My third mud run is behind me and here is what a nearly 54-year-old guy can tell you:
I was definitely representing the ahem, senior class. That is, the 50 and older crowd.
I was surrounded by youngsters, most of them in their 20s and 30s, with some even younger, like in their teens.
I kept up with one young whippersnapper who was about 13 or so.
Every time he was walking but then saw me running, he would start running as well. I kept pace with him for a good while, so that was cool.
There was one guy who looked like the pitchman in the Old Spice commercials: Chiseled and six-pack abs.
Of course he was in my wave and of course he was shirtless.
He immediately dusted me on the course.
I decided I hated him.
Me? I was in a skintight sausage casing, including leggings that made me look like I was auditioning for Mel Brooks’s “Men in Tights.”
I had more rolls than a delicatessen.
On the other hand, there was quite the assortment of people in all kinds of shapes and varieties. This was no beauty pageant.
For most people this was a chance to socialize and make an outing of it with friends and family.
Some of the signs along the route on this mud run, the Warrior Dash at Pocono Raceway, were inspirational: (“Two miles done. One to go!”)
Some made me smile. (“Be careful on the course. Call me when you’re done. Love, Mom.”)
And some were downright unfair. One about a tenth of a mile from the starting line, one sign read: “Finish line. (Just kidding. You have another three miles to go.)”
There was lots of climbing of steep ladders and other obstacles.
I heard one woman say of her efforts to get over one: “Well, that was not very ladylike.”
Not sure what she did.
One obstacle featured real barbed wire and I saw some women climbing OVER the wire.
Even though my privets were tucked in high and tight, I said no thanks and decided not to risk it and did a soldier’s crawl UNDER the barbed wire, thankyouverymuch.
I finished the 5K and its 12 obstacles in 48 minutes, which was a minute better than last year’s performance.
In crossing the finish line — hark!
I could hear the cheering!
The shouting!
The screaming!
Oh wait.
That screaming was my legs and knees! Never mind.
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