The day started off with parental duties – piano recital, a picnic lunch at the soccer fields, and then a game.
Then we rushed home to change and left the kids in the care of their grandparents.
Since the day we signed up for the Warrior Dash, I had been telling Chad that we would not be running it together. I did want to hold him back with my snail’s pace. As we drove, he firmly decided that he was going to stay with me, and I didn’t argue. I was feeling more unsure by the moment. I had never run 3 miles in my life, let along 3 miles with obstacles.
We lined up for the last wave of the day. It was a party crowd, screaming and stretching, taking pictures in their running gear, full of confidence.
The time started and we took off. Maybe fifty yards in, some of the people in front of us began to walk, and we passed them. Okay, I am still running. Yay for that.
We passed the first mile through a hot a muggy field and Chad convinced me to keep running until we got the first obstacle. It was further than we expected, and when we got there I was relieved that there was a bottleneck of runners. We would have to pause to wait our turn. We easily walked over some beams and ran to the water break.
We passed more people all the time. Sure there were plenty of people in front of us, but I wasn’t the slowest one there (like I had feared).
Jumping through tires and over cars, which was even worse than just running.
Before we knew it, we got to the mud. Skirt around the mud, or jump right in? I chose to jump and let out a yelp as the cold, red slosh went all the way up to my chest. Our feet suctioned to the ground and then slipped slipped slipped as we made our way out of it and up a hill. Laughing and trying not to fall, we grabbed at every tree trunk that was available.
With the wet earth pulling our clothes downward, we ran on.
Across a ravine on a slippery rope.
Over climbing walls
Swimming through murky cool water, climbing up on buoy's (with help from Chad and a kind stranger behind me) and jumping in again, losing my bib somewhere in there with all the other floating bibs.
Down a very long and very slippery firemans’ pole,
Jumping over fire
And then we saw it, the finish line, and the clock.
Lets make it before the hour mark, Dew, Chad said as we scrapped our knees into the mud and under lines of barbwire, the last obstacle.
And we did.
It was exhausting, and exhilarating, and filthy, and the rest of the evening and the next day I just couldn’t stop thinking about how much I felt like a kid again. I could not stop thinking about how fun it was.
When exactly do we forget that using our bodies this way is fun? That running, jumping, climbing, swimming, pushing ourselves and getting filthy is so much fun? That even though it is so hard, it feels so good?
We know that when we are kids, and then exercise becomes torture on a treadmill, something to avoid or dread.
I am so glad I remembered.
This is why I want to be in shape. Not for a smaller dress size, not for a better facebook picture, not to keep my confidence.
For the joy.