Last Saturday, I ran Warrior Dash 2013 in North Carolina. Now, Warrior Dash has always held a special place in my heart - it was the first OCR I ever did and the one that got me addicted. I was looking forward to running my 3rd WD - especially since I was pretty much guaranteed a warm weather race (which I have sorely missed thus far this season). While the weather held out, the race itself was disappointing.
Disappointment started as soon as I arrived at Rural Hill, where the race was being held. I was running alone - my running partner had to go to her son's high school graduation (excuses, excuses), but I was ok with that. As usual, something came up for me, physically, to mess up my ability to prepare. This time it was nausea/stomach upset that had been going on 1.5 weeks - I had lost 3-4 pounds by the time WD rolled around, I was so miserable. So that Saturday, I got up, dry heaved a bit, choked down half a protein bar, and set off for my 9 am wave. I'm glad I was in an early wave - the registration was, to put it mildly, a complete cluster. I'm not sure if it was disorganzed, if the volunteers did not know what they were doing, or if there simply weren't enough volunteers to handle registration. At any rate, there was a lot of grumbling in the long and slow line. I barely managed to make it into my wave.
I was not pleased.
The race itself was not as challenging as in the past. Obstacles seemed simpler than previously. I found myself getting bored here and there. In spite of not feeling well (and not hydrating well enough), I was making excellent time going into the final obstacle - the mud pit.
Now, mind you, I have run over 15 OCRs since I started getting muddy. I've gone through watery mud puddles, uphill through 100-yd long barbed wire crawls, and through absolutely putrid sludge. None of those pits held a candle to the nastiness that was this mud pit. It was more like a combination of molasses and quicksand. It was the stickiest, heaviest mud I have ever been in. And, like most everyone else in the pit, I had a difficult time not getting stuck.
And, then, of course, I did get stuck. For real. Both legs - completely unable to move. After 10 minutes I struggling, I managed to free my right leg. However, my left leg was deep in the mud. Every time I tried to move it, I could feel my shoe getting pulled off. I love my Inov-8s - no way was I losing one of them in that mud pit! So, I continued to work and struggle to free myself, even as I had visions of needing a crane to pull me out. Luckily, at some point, a wonderful man had pity on me and helped me to free my left leg. With waning energy, I managed to make it to the berm at the edge of the mud pit. At that point, I looked up at a guy standing there, and pitifully asked him to pull me out. He did so, and I stood up on the other side, I was amazed at how much mud was clinging to me. I felt 20 lbs heavier. I finally crossed the finish line, thoroughly beaten for all the wrong reasons.
I don't know how long I was stuck in the Molasses Swamp, but I do know that many people opted not to try it all, skewing finish times. As I headed to the wash down, I looked down and realized that I was caked in mud. Usually, at washdown, I can count on at least one skeevy guy offering to help me wash my back off. No one offered this time. Possibly because no one could tell that I was a girl.
I changed in the Port-a-Potty (no changing tents - yay) and grabbed my beer token. I'm not one to drink alone, so I scanned the crowds, spotted a guy wearing a giant Afro wig, walked up to him, and gave him my token. He was thankful and surprised, but I just smiled and headed back out to my car.
I was done. In more ways than one. While Warrior Dash will always hold a place in my heart, I doubt I will do another one.
