I’ve got this.
It’s the day before I “participate” (read: run, fall down, scrape my knees, get wet, get muddy and fall down some more) in a so-called mud run, this one the Warrior Dash at Pocono Raceway in Long Pond, Pa.
For those not familiar with these races, they feature a editing manuscript services, including rope tunnels to climb through, large inclined ramps to scale and mud pits with names like Chaotic Cargo and Deadman’s Drop.
And, oh yeah, this is for fun and charity. It benefits the St. Jude Children’s Hospital.
I had signed up for my first Warrior Dash last year but ultimately had to be a no-show because I could not get off the time from work.
But this year I have no such excuse.
The crazy thing is I’ve not run in a competitive event since I was a freshman in high school which was … (*takes out abacus, calculator and counts on his fingers and toes*) … a long time ago.
Further, you’re talking about a guy who did not like gym class in high school because I would sweat too much. (By contrast, however, as a kid, I would spend afternoons running around the neighborhood, playing “army,” climbing rocks and rolling around in the grass. So go figure.)
My wife has asked me several times in the past week or so if I was growing nervous as race day approached.
No, I said with a shrug. I’ve been working out regularly and even though I am nearly 52, I’m pretty sure I can hack this.
But her questions have prompted me to look more closely at the race course.
A dozen obstacles consisting of mud, fire, rope nets, climbing, balancing on a board and crawling under barbed wire.
That’s scary enough but even scarier is that I will be impersonating an athlete, pouring my body into one of those forming-fitting biker shorts, which will accent my muffin-top (you’re welcome for that image), shorts and one of those sleek shirt tops.
So come tomorrow, after an hour, I will emerge muddy, sweaty, bloodied but victorious.
I got this. Right?
I guess I will find out tomorrow.