Mudder May I Take a POUNDing?

So, a couple Saturdays ago I participated in the Tough Mudder. It was basically an 11 mile long obstacle course, with obstacles pulled directly from a boot camp set up in the 80s by Dr. Kavorkian. The weather was normal for April, meaning that it was cold and rainy. And the rain made the already muddy course even muddier.

So it went like this:

1. Run through mud
2. Jump over 15 five-foot walls
3. Run through mud
4. Wade through waist deep ice water
5. Run through mud
6. Swim through mud
7. Run through mud
8. Run up a hill, down a hill, through a lake, up a hill, down a hill, through a river, up a hill, down a hill
9. Jump off a 25 foot high platform into a freezing cold lake
10. Run through mud
11. Run through a field that is on fire
12. Run through mud
13. Etc.
14. Etc.
15. Etc.

 Do you get the idea?

There were a total of 24 obstacles spread throughout the 11 miles. They don’t call it tough just for fun. I think that there were three separate ways in which it was challenging. The first, and probably easiest to prep for, was that it was long; it tested one’s endurance. The second was that it required bursts of strength to get over the obstacles.

The third was that it was mentally challenging. I have to admit, I was a little freaked out waiting my turn to jump off the high dive into that lake. The volunteer said, “One – Two – Three” and I took a step forward, off the platform. As I was falling I realized that taking that step wasn’t actually what I had wanted to do. I’m glad that I didn’t take the time to think about it. Several of the obstacles didn’t require any particular feat of strength or endurance, but just made me decide whether I was going to give up or do something that was uncomfortable.

 

I’m happy to report that I survived, with the help of some great teammates (and some helpful strangers), although my legs are a little worse for the wear. Going back to work most people thought I was crazy, and I probably am. I like the sense of accomplishment that I get from stretching the limits of what I think I can do, whether it’s a marathon or a Tough Mudder, and the lessons I learn about myself.

I just hope I can talk someone into doing it with me next year.

**********

Since I  really took a pounding I thought I'd share the recipe for an awesome pound cake we made a few weeks ago. (Thanks to my wife for the juvenile word play). It's full of butter and that can only mean one thing: it's from Paula Dean.

Mama's Pound Cake

Ingredients

• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) butter, plus more for pan
• 1/2 cup vegetable shortening
• 3 cups sugar
• 5 eggs
• 3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for pan
• 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1 cup milk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

With a mixer, cream butter and shortening together. Add sugar, a little at a time. Add eggs, 1 at a time, beating after each addition. Stir dry ingredients together in a bowl and add to mixer alternately with milk, starting with the flour and ending with the flour. Mix in vanilla. Pour into a greased and floured tube pan and bake for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean.

Thanks Paula!

Freak Bowling Accident

The setting: mid-August, just 5 weeks before the Run Woodstock trail half-marathon. A man, his pretty wife and three cute kids walk into a 70s era bowling alley (somehow, all bowling alleys are 70s era).

Important fact: the man is a horrible bowler.

The man miraculously begins the game with a turkey, then the law of averages kicks in. The game is no longer going well. He stands with the bowling ball poised for action. He visualizes the perfect throw, begins his approach, takes a deep breath and swings the ball back. Then, disaster… and pain. Somehow his knee managed to insert itself into the forward trajectory of the ball.

The ball gives a hearty chuckle as it rolls down the gutter.

The man stifles walrus-like moans of pain while his wife ponders whether or not what just happened is physically possible unless the swing had actually been aimed at the snack bar. He shakes it off. His knee is tender to the touch and occasionally sends a shot of pain, probably to remind him of the extent of his suckiness. Game over. The mostly happy family exits the building.

Two days later he goes for a long training run. The side of his knee starts aching, then hurts in earnest at around mile seven. He toughs it out, because he's way too manly to give in to something so trivial.

Diagnosis: IT Band Syndrome (irritation leading to inflammation of the iliotibial band, a tendon that runs on the side of the leg from the hip to just below the knee)

Recommended treatment: A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Mostly rest, ice, ibuprofen. Maybe an occasional visit to a local voodoo practitioner. Nothing works. The man is frustrated. Weeks pass, and so does Run Woodstock, with no improvement. Every time he runs his knee starts hurting after a mile and a half. It doesn't hurt him except when he runs, which on the one hand is better than being in constant pain, but on the other, serves to repeatedly trick him into getting his hopes up until they come crashing down as the pain mounts during the same stretch of Snow St.

He's come to his wits end and contemplates the uncontemplateable; going to see the doctor. He knows that the doctor is going to tell him to stop running, and he can tell himself that without having to pay a deductible, and that would mean missing the next race, the Veterans Half Marathon. He returns to the internet to dig deeper, like Columbo with broadband. There, tucked into some of the shadier running injury sites are claims that some people find relief of IT Band Syndrome with a certain type of knee brace. He immediately orders one, tentatively tries it out and, to the sweet music imagined choirs of angels, feels no pain.

He's back in the game, baby.