And there are unexpected things that you bring on yourself.
I didn't expect to see mud clods in my nose when I got home. I didn't expect to feel the grit in my teeth, still. I didn't expect to see mud from my ears on the Q-tip after my shower. I didn't expect to have quite so much mud in my nether regions.
Hence, the Mudathlon...
What is a Mudathlon? A ridiculously fun, and pointless, run that involves, as you can see from the sign, mud, obstacles, and beer.
Curiosity peeked? Mine was.
Obstacles included mud, obviously, and big-ass spindles, and walls, and a really high drop, and countless logs, and 100 yards up a creek, and paint ball ambush, and a 30 foot high mud slide.
It was even crazier than it sounds.
Here we are in the "before" picture. Tim, my boss, Scott, and me. These things are so much more fun when you share them with friends.
We wore our "Rock Out" shirts, a respectful shout out to our DBTK brethren.
At the start, I couldn't stand still. Nothing like a big fat pile of the unknown in the form of a race course riddled with "obstacles" to crank you up.
Before the start, I took some pix of the mud pit.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking... Why? No answer. It's pointless. Either this looks like fun to you, or it doesn't.
The obstacles weren't that tough, though the 30' mud slide sent me air born and ass-first into a pile of hay.
Eventually, we returned to the mud pit, and the finish line.
Me and Scott slogging to the finish.
It's difficult to explain what it feels like to be covered, head to toe, in sludgy mud. It's heavy. It's wet. It's a little cold. It stings your eyes, and you have nothing clean to wipe it off. It's just plain crazy.
Tim and I, after.
After almost an hour in line to get sprayed off by a fire hose (less pleasant than it sounds), I was clean-ish. I retrieved my camera and went back to the scene of the crime.
Pile of discarded shoes, too muddy to take home.
Couple enjoying the fire-hose shower.
Another couple enjoying the post-race fun...
... which included a fun cover band.
GPS watch, survived, thanks to a Ziploc shield.
My Mudathlon medal, joins my others, unwashed.
As the girl behind me in the hose-off line said, sometimes you gotta say "What the hell."
Big thank you to Tim's daughter Paige for the pictures while we were running.
Numbers: 3 miles, in mud, water, mud, over obstacles, through tunnels, more mud, over hay rolls, down a mud slide, over walls, and more mud.