Warrior Dash 9-21-2013

Ran the Warrior Dash today in Thompson, CT that is the farthest possible northeast corner of the state - an hour and twenty minute drive from home.  I do the race (as written below) to overcome my fear of crawling under the earth.  The photos are generic photos of what the obstacles look like in other settings.

http://warriordash.com/location/2013-warrior-dash-connecticut/

***

So, you ask, the book begins with a scene of me underground, stuck, in dire straights.  A teaser with no delivery.  True, I was pleased, thrilled, relieved, exuberant, thanking God and any and everyone else that the Tough Mudder chose not to include Trench Warfare in their Vermont race.  But now, in the aftermath, I feel unsatisfied.  I did not get a chance to face my ultimate phobia - crawling in a narrow dank, dark tunnel, under the earth.  That is why I find myself driving an hour and twenty minutes on this foggy Saturday morning in September to the Thompson Speedway in the farthest Northeast corner of the state to participate in the Warrior Dash, a 3.2 mile obstacle race that promises underground trenches, as well as the balance beam over water, and the Death Leap over Fire  that I also escaped in the Tough Mudder.

I have been feeling good about this all.  I would wear my tough mudder finisher tee-shirt to show I have no fear, but since I am a tough Mudder, I don’t need to advertise, so instead, I wear a plain white racing shirt.  I am a tough mudder inside where it counts.  Despite that positive feeling, I do start to have some worries on the drive.  I recall what my friend Rich told me when I told him I had failed to sign up in time and wouldn’t be able to race.  Maybe, it is a sign, he said.  That night, desperate to be able to say I conquered all my fears, I email the race support team and tell them I screwed up and missed the registration deadline, and is there any way I can still register. I offer, in fact, to make an additional donation if they can find a way to let me race.  I am delighted when they email back that I can register onsite for an extra ten dollars cash.  Driving to the venue, the sunny skies over my house turn grey, a deep fog sets in.  I see one, then another, then another dead animal in the road.  I try not to make any analogies.  I keep Rich’s it may be a sign comment at arm’s length.  I could just end this book at the finish line of the tough mudder, with raising the Dos Equis to the race gods.  It would be a shame to end it in the hospital, getting my fractured hip pinned.

The racers have been going off in waves every fifteen minutes, and already I see some walking from the finish line black with mud.  The crowd has a different vibe that the Tough Mudder.  Instead of ripped serious athletes, this has more of a grab your wife, boyfriend or son and daughter and come out and run.  There is little tension, and much festivity.  I register quickly, leave my bag at the bag check and walk right to the start corral.  Like the Tough Mudder, no one is checking your start time.

After only a short wait, the race starts.  We run out onto to the speedway, and up the banked track.  I have not been running much due to the plantar fasciitis in my feet, and I can feel it in my wind.  Still I jog along and pass many of the racers , some of whom are already walking.  There are no obstacles for a while, a trick organizers use to thin the waves so there is little waiting time at the obstacles.  After we have looped the track, we run across the infield where we must climb over wrecked cars and then through rows of tires, and then over more cars, then back to running.   The early obstacles involve lots of climbing, which I love, and goes fairly easily.  There are footholds in the walls, one obstacle has a slanted wall with a rope that you grab and help pull you up, another wall is straight up, but again, it has both a rope and footholds to help you climb.  I take my time at the top, and gently swing my legs over and back myself down.  If I am going to break a hip, here would be a place, perched twenty feet in the air on a thin wall, but I am soon down, and still together at least so far. 

While the climbing comes easily -- I see few people having difficulty with it, I do feel quite winded.  I permit myself to walk on the approach to the obstacle and then to take a few steps after before breaking back into my trot.  

We cross mud mounds with pools off muddy water, waist deep, then up a mound and through another pool.  I have caught sight of the balance beams farther ahead on the course and see one person fall off with a splash.  The beam doesn’t look too narrow, but the wind is picking up, and now my shoes are muddy and wet.  

And then there it is in front of me -- the tunnels.  There are three of them, holes into the earth.  A cloud crosses the sun and the wind picks up again.  Here it is my tormentor.  At last we meet.  I examine to see which one is wider, but they all look about the same.  Rather than taking the open tunnel, I get in line behind four girls who are all entering the same tunnel one by one.  I figure this way I can follow their voices at least until I am left behind.  The ground is very rocky, as I descend into the hole in the earth  I My back hits the top of the wall if I try to kneel.  I have a little wiggle room from side to side.  I stretch to a plank position, keeping my toes on the ground.  I use my hands and start to bear crawl and find I can, although it squeezes my abdominal muscles.  The women in front of me are already gone.  I grunt as I move forward.  In the gym when lifting weights I try not to grunt as it is not considered proper etiquette, but I hear I unleash each grunt as an SOS type signal.  People can laugh, but at least they know someone is in the tunnel, someone is alive in there.  If there is a sudden earthquake of cave-in, they will shout  “Help -- He’s in there, a guy’s in there being buried alive.  We need shovels.  Dig!  Dig!”

I keep my head down and focus.  I hear Dr. Fuller’s words, “Be logical, keep going and you will eventually come out.”  I have to stop and rest a moment.  My breathing is growing heavy!  The rocks cut into my arms.    I get back in the bear crawl position, but this time, my back hits the ceiling again.  Fortunately, the ceiling is not earth, but plywood.  I grunt again, and then force myself on.  Just a little further, just a little more, and then to my amazement, I am out.  I get first to my knees, and then use my hands to stand.  Its done.  It couldn’t have taken me more than a minute.  I watch other racers, rise out of the other holes and sprint on.  I look back at my nemesis and smile.  I feel like doing a little jig.  I make a checkmark in the  air.  Did it, done.  I break back into a run.  The flags on the poles that mark the course are stiff in the breeze that has now turned lost gale force.  I am am cold and I get a shiver as I see what lays ahead.  The balance beams over the water.

Next there is another balance act that looked easy when I saw it on the video, but looks much different face to face.  We walk up a narrow plant, across a narrow beam, over a wall, along another beam, another, wall, then down another plant, all while being sprayed with a hose.  I should say the other racers do this.  I am standing and watching.  It looks much more difficult in person.  I make it up the first plank but then stop before going across the beam.  The water is blasting me, and I have to go down to my knees and hold on with my hands to.  I have no faith I will make it if I stand, so I crawl across the beam like a giant caterpillar in a rain storm, inching my way along.  I am able to stand, then and grasp onto the wall, which is easy for me to climb.  The next beam is also narrow, but by holding onto the wall, i can stand step on the beam and quickly reach across to grab the next beam.  I manage to make it the rest of the way on my feet without falling, as I run away, i hear someone remark about how fun that obstacle was, and I have to agree.  Obstacle racing is like an adult amusement park.  One fun ride after the next.  Adventure and thrills.

Now we are at the balance beams over the pool of water.  I stop to observe the obstacle.  There are four beams over the water.  I watch others cross them.  I check to see which beams wobble, which are straight.  The wind continues to gust.  One racer nearly blows over, but he is able to scurry across.  The next thing I know I am out there.  Please don’t fall.  I have my arms out like Karl Wallenda.  The wind hits me and I flutter.  I can see it now as I try to balance, I go down, conking my head on the other bar, getting knocked out, and then sinking into the muddy water below.  I break into a run, and with a leap I am across.  Did it done.  Another check mark.

The next obstacle involves crawling again. We crawl under barbed wire, but instead of crawling on rocky mud, we are on grass.  I feel one barb on my back and so press myself down.  I go slowly, but steadily.  After the barbed wire, we crawl under a mesh screen.  My but hits it, but the screen has play in it, so I can rise to my knees and scurry along and am not impeded until the end when there is one last line of barbed wire I have to duck under.  

We have to cross climb a cargo net, which is pretty easy.  With my long reach, it goes quickly.

I can hear the band now as we must be nearing the finish.  We have to run up a tall sand hill, and though I am tired, I recall all those hill runs, and make my class proud by powering up the hall, passing several other racers with ease.  We run along some trail, then down the hill.  I am cautious, but my balance is good, and I make it easily. 

Then we come to the warrior roast, the leap over fire.  The flames range from a foot to two to three depending on the wind.  The fire itself is not very wide.  At the other end a photographer takes pictures of racers doing the warrior leap.  I let the runners in front of me go.  To an observer, it makes me look like I am afraid.  I am after all stopped dead, staring at the flames.  In truth, I am just waiting for the other racers to clear so the photographer can focus on me.  This is my moment.  When he does I run with the swiftness of Achilles, and leap high into the air, soaring over the flames.  I am hoping for an iconic Michael Jordan Nike soaring in for the dunk type shot.  Peter Canning Tough Mudder, Warrior, FireLord, Skywalker, Hero.  I land, stumble, but stay on my feet and continue on. 

 There is the mud pit, and then the finish line, and then a shower, courtesy of the local fire department hoses.  I change into dry clothes, I find the St. Jude Warrior Fund tent and give them my promised extra donation, and then drive home to my three daughters and to Chevaughn.

Warrior

Finish Time was  47:16  134 out of 247 for men 50-59.  Overall place 4114 out of 8146