Some people argue that long-distance running is boring. Those same people might suggest that the addition of fire, ice and electricity, as well as a host of other hazards, would make the activity far more interesting. It is through this mentality that Tough Mudder was born.
As I browsed the gruesome details on the Tough Mudder web site, I thought: ‘only a masochistic nutter would consider doing this.’ So, on a sunny morning in mid-May 2012, I was lined up among hundreds of other people, singing the national anthem before reciting the Tough Mudder pledge, which includes the line: ‘I do not whine, kids whine.’ Roughly five minutes later, I was crawling face-down in wet mud, unable to lift my head due to the barbed wire inches above me. It was about that point I realised this was going to be unlike anything I’d ever done before.
I’d been convinced to take part by a friend, Ray, who had for some reason stumbled upon the web site. The site, with the tagline ‘probably the toughest event on the planet’, doesn’t beat around the bush. Upon signing up, participants will be under no illusion about what they’re letting themselves in for: 12 miles of muddy, painful, arduous brutality as they tackle the 28 obstacles that stand between them and the finish line.
Another line from the pledge states that ‘I put teamwork and camaraderie before my course time.’ Unlike marathons, this is not a race, you’re not even timed. The emphasis is on helping fellow ‘Mudders’ out and making sure everyone crosses the line.
This attitude was greatly appreciated when I reached the obstacle dubbed the Berlin Walls; a series of 12ft blockades that I, at less than half that height, would never have been able to conquer without aide.
Stuck in the mud
Some obstacles, however, are down to you and you alone. Trial by fire requires you to run through the middle of burning bales of hay, which leaves you blinded and gasping for breath. For trial by ice, you submerge yourself in freezing water, diving several feet under to swim below the wall and make it to the other side. Most painfully, trial by electricity forces you to crawl through mud as charged wires jolt your back and legs.
The aptly titled Mud-Mile sees you take on a seemingly endless series of wet, muddy, slippery hills and troughs, while the inclined monkey bars put your strength to the test. The punishment for falling: another dip in ice-cold water.
As I dragged myself out of the water – I fell having conquered a less-than-impressive three bars – I saw my family watching on gleefully, camera in hand. It was at about this time, with my body ready to pack it in, I wondered why I had paid good money to put myself through this. But then, I saw something glorious: the finish line. Unfortunately, between me and it, there was another daunting obstacle: Everest.
Everest is a massive quarter-pipe, covered, predictably, with mud and water. Some people are able to haul themselves up unaided. Mere mortals such as me, however, were grateful for the Tough Mudder pledge, for everyone that made it to the summit then lay on their stomach and extended their arm in order to help other participants.
I prepared my run-up, and set my sights on two arms directly in front of me. I got some good speed going, leapt into the air, and was delighted when two hands firmly gripped each of my wrists. After a bit of leg flailing, I dragged myself up, giving a celebratory high-five to my fellow Mudders before helping others up.
I try to help Ray climb Everest… and fail.
The final obstacle was actually another electricity job, but by this point I think by body was too numb to feel the pain. Ray and I crossed the line together, where we were awarded a t-shirt, a bright orange headband and, in true Tough Mudder style, a beer.
I was battered and bruised, mentally and physically drained. It was utterly brutal and pushed me to the limit. Above all though, it was cracking fun and something I look back on with a fondness and a touch of pride. And, without doubt, there one thing no-one can accuse Tough Mudder of being: boring.