I'm a Maniac

So, summer is coming. And what does that mean? MUD RUNS!

This past weekend was the Rugged Maniac, my first of the season. I have four more planned, but I may add a fifth beyond that.

The RM was held at the Portland International Raceway. I was signed up for the first heat at 9 a.m. I like grabbing the early slots because the course isn't torn up yet from all the other runners. I had a friend who raced in a later match and learned a secondary reason to show up early: you avoid the lines at the obstacles, which can really eat into your finishing time.

And time is one thing I'm concerned with. I track my races at Athlinks, so I can compare my performance to others and most especially to myself, to see if my daily gym visits are really paying off. While there have been races that didn't have official timing, this was the first time I had to pay extra for the timing chip. This is a little sensor that tracks when you cross the start and then the end. You tie it into your shoe and it should stand the abuse. Most races, this is free if it is offered at all, so everybody gets one and you really get a sense of how everyone performed. With having to pay a bit extra ($10!), there were far fewer takers.

When I arrived, the sky was not looking too promising, and within five minutes it started to rain. The registration desks hadn't even opened yet. Bad omen? No such thing.

This race did have a nice feature that I haven't seen before. The start area was actually blocked off by a small wall, similar to those you would probably find peppered throughout the course. I thought they would be moving this once things got started. But nope, they called in the runners with instructions to scale the wall. It became a bit of a "You must be this athletic to run this course" kind of litmus test. I vaulted it pretty easily and was the first to do so. The announcer noticed and called out my bib number: instant fame (of a sort).

The thing I noticed first about the race was that we were at a race track, so the land was pretty level. I was guessing this would make the whole thing much easier. I would soon find this wasn't really the case. The first obstacle was a stream that ran across the course. It was about a three foot drop to the water and about six feet across. Some were climbing down into the water and out the other side. I went the path of the more adventurous and leapt across.

Next came some some short walls to toss ourselves over. This was quickly followed by a theme for this race: bleachers. There were two small sets placed back to back, forming a small pyramid to climb over. Throughout the race, much larger bleachers were encountered that we had to run up, across, and down. Nothing too taxing, but they were metal and we were covered by mud by this point, so the footing was treacherous.

Other obstacles included the tires in the classic football training arrangement, hanging from ropes in a cage that you have to crash through, and a hill of the things trying to suck you in or spill you out. Several trenches had been dug out, some we had to jump across in quick succession, others we had to crawl through. These crawl trenches were covered and pretty long, so the interior was pitch black. There was someone in front of me and I was able to keep tabs on them by the reflectors in their shoes. But suddenly these disappeared and I knew there was a turn in the tunnel. This slowed my down a bit as I didn't want to ram my face into a wall.

About two thirds of the way through the race I finally ran out of breath and had to slow down a bit. This cost me my target time. I was hoping to complete the race in thirty minutes flat. My final time was just over thirty-five minutes. Not bad, but on par with what I'd been racing last year, so it's hard to say that I had any improvement.

After the end of the race and showering off I jumped with the kids through the bounce castle and then took my first ride on a mechanical bull. Held on pretty long but the cost was my pinkie finger. Mashed it up pretty good, scrapping a good chunk of the knuckle off, and leaving it swollen for a couple days.

With the first mud run behind me, my Saturday was far from over. Next was the Portland Starlight Parade. I marched with the Portland Zombie Walk group. Dressed in my zombie best, we scared the kids and adults alike, all in good fun. We even had a set of zombie Disney Princesses. Before the parade, we were hanging out with a Mardi Gras band, the Grimm float (but I only knew a couple of the folks that were there), and the cheerleaders from PSU. There was much revelry (including me leading a crowd in the Chicken Dance).

What sort of summer adventures do you have planned?

Way of the Warrior

So, late last summer I was convinced to do this totally insane thing. Insane, even for me. It involved lots of running and being outdoors and I was totally unprepared. Wouldn't I rather be watching a movie, playing a video game, or sleeping?

But I saw the pictures: running over the tops of derelict cars, being outdoors to jump over fires, preparing for a ninja battle. (Oh, wait. There are no ninjas in pictures)

I had to admit, I was intrigued and interested. So I signed up.

With only a week to prepare, I bought a new pair of running shoes and jogged three miles a night. Had to break-in the shoes and break-in my muscles because I was going on my first mud run. That's right, this was Warrior Dash 1.0.


I was about to find out exactly how out of shape I was. Those three mile night jogs? There was actually a lot of walking involved, and some very heavy breathing. After the first night, I could barely walk the next day. But I was bound and determined to complete this race and to perform well.


It was Atheana that got me into to this mess, so I would be competing against her and her husband Carey. But Atheana was feeling competitive, saying she's going to smoke me. I responded that I've got plenty of stamina. She fires back "You can't run the race on your knees!" Touche.

As it took Atheana at least fifteen minutes longer to reach the finish line than I did, it was a lot of talk with no show. But I had become addicted.

Now: Warrior Dash 2.0: The Glutton for Punishment!

I've mentioned my previous mud runs this year: Foam Fest and Run for Your Lives. I also had the Spartan Sprint to start this season off. Plus, I've been going to the gym since March. I was much better prepared for the Dash this time around. I was familiar with much of the course, it's obstacles, and had gotten into much better shape.

So, how did it go?

This time I went solo, no family, no friends. Just me against the world.

And right off the bat, luck is against me.

I'm just settling into flu symptoms that started a couple days before. Sore throat and cough being no friends to running. The weather is cool, overcast, and near raining. My clothing choice, though appropriate most mud runs, leaves me unprotected from the environment and with chattering teeth. However, these are minor setbacks against all the preparations I've made.

I'm expecting a near clone of last year as I approach the same start line as before. With the flamethrowers announcing the beginning of the race, my three hundred-odd companions and I take off into the woods. Over a small hill, down into a ravine, then up a steep, dusty, and winding trail that really kills all the enthusiasm the race announcer had built-up minutes before.

Like last year, the first obstacle is the river. Previously, we jumped into the water, climbed over a couple logs and then came out again on the same shore. This time logs were replace by tumbling jugs, like underwater broncos trying to buck you off. We also had to wade quite far downstream, over a river bottom filled with random craters. My guess was they had dredged the bed to remove large rocks and left holes everywhere. A much tougher swim this time around.

Most of the obstacles returned from last year, and the race ran pretty much the same course. But two of my favorites were removed. First, the earlier mentioned running over a car junkyard. Second, the wobbly table tops. Like playing the lava game as a kid, where you have to jump from one piece of furniture to another without touching the ground, you have to move from table to table. Each surface only has a single leg and is not very stable. Last year, I passed these flawlessly. I missed them this time around.

With some obstacles missing, they had to introduce some new ones. We got a much denser and difficult version of the spiders web that I had first encountered at the Foam Fest. There were also some trench and barbed-wire crawls.

I kept a pretty good pace most of the race, but there were many times I was so winded I had to walk. But as long as we were not headed uphill, I would catch my breath and start to run again. When I got toward the end of the race, when I knew that all that stood between me and the finish was a small hill, fire, and mud I found a second wind and really increased my pace. I started passing folks left and right and gave everything I had left to finish strong.

I performed much better this year. By looking at the race results I made the top 100 for my age group. And I was less than 10 minutes away from the lead. I was also in the top 10% overall. I don't know my official results from last year's race, but by best estimates, this year I beat it by 10 minutes. I like those odds for coming out on top next year.

At the end of the day I took a dip in the pond to remove the mud and donated my now year-old shoes, purchased originally to run the race last year but still in good shape, to GreenSneakers. Now, my running shoes are those I got from Portlandia.

Now that I've closed out this year for mud runs, I'll continue to train, to come out on top of the Warrior pile, but also be ready for the more insane Tough Mudder next year.

Stiff competition

My wife recently introduced me to interval running. You walk a certain distance, jog a bit, and then sprint.

Repeat.

What I learned this weekend is that everyone will need to do this kind of training if they want to be ready for the zombie apocalypse.

Now, I have a Plan Z, so I'd like to think I'm more than a little prepared for the this particular end of the world scenario. But having the idea of what you will do and having the physical capability of performing are two different things.

So, this past Saturday I took part in my latest World War Z training exercise. A little mud run called the Run for Your Lives. Your standard 5k obstacle course, only with packs of zombies strewn about.

Yes.

I said "zombies". In a race. Somewhere, Samuel L. Jackson said something epic.

In most mud runs, I try to hold a steady pace throughout (although after the halfway point I tend to power walk the uphill bits). But that won't work when you turn a corner and the undead jump out screaming for your brains.

The way it works is this, along with your number bib you get a flag belt. Just like the gentler version of football, your opponents (i.e. Zed) try to steal your flags rather then chew through your skull (there is a reason I didn't play sports in high school). You get three life points, three successful zombie grabs and you're dead.

At the start line I talked with a gentleman who is a veteran of these runs. His advice: stay in a dense group and power through. Chance of survival: Nil.

How very reassuring.

We start the race in a dark meat cage, a soldier letting us know the rules before opening the gate. There will be health packs on the course, he says. To heal our zombie wounds, he says. A count down, and we're off.

Now, I like to get an early start on mud runs. They have heats all day long, usually every half hour or so. Early in the day means cooler temperatures, smaller groups, and the track is less torn up. What I would learn is this was to be the least muddy, but (not surprisingly) most bloody run I've participated in. My strategy doesn't pay off though, this is one raw race course. It's full of ruts, rocks, branches, and to my later horror, blackberries. More on that later.

The first obstacle was a new one for me. A black house, with little black windows that you have to crawl through. Already there are people screaming. It's pitch black and filled with smoke inside. And there are naked wires hanging from the ceiling sending electricity into the unwary. Well, I'm wary and I don't get shocked. Getting to the other end you can hear the growls, here comes the first clash with the undead.

You burst from the smoke into a large open field filled with zombies. Time for the first sprint. Downhill, over uneven ground. I dodge a few of the walkers and shamblers, but here comes a runner. And he is out for blood. And wham! I've already lost my first flag. I make it the rest of the way unscathed.

We're in the clear. We cross a stream and... enter another open field with zombies. Time for another sprint. I'm successful in my dodging techniques this time and keep my remaining health, despite a bottleneck in the course, leading into the woods, defended by one more brain muncher.

A short jog through the woods leads to a muddy, but easy, crawl. Then back into the trees and: you guessed it, more ghouls. These aren't as aggressive, but the trail is small and maneuvering is difficult. We clear this crowd, and find a fork in the road. We can stay in the woods, or head out into the clear. But there are more of the unfortunate wretches out in the sunshine. We decide to stick with the "obviously safer path" (tm).

Yes, I did say we. We're maintaining a group of about five (we have, however, lost our veteran, haven't seen him since the smoke house), we pickup and lose folks from time to time. Still in the woods, we complete the first mile. By this time, I've received my first wound. A small blackberry vine was across the road, attempting to trip me. Only one end was in the ground, so instead of falling, it ripped across my exposed ankle, thorns leaving a jagged line. I've had, and I'll have, worse.

One of our number takes a spill while running past a wraith. This zombie offers to help her up. My advice to you: Never Accept Help From the Undead. Sure, she gets a hand up, but off goes one of her flags as well.

A note on the zombies themselves. It seems that the apocalypse has occurred during Halloween night. There are every stripe of undead: rednecks, scuba divers, doctors, Disney Princesses. Eventually I'll even be accosted by Batgirl.

More sprinting past the cursed. More walking to recover our breath. More jogging to keep our spirits and courage up.

Then it happens. We're running for our lives through some zeros. One makes a grab at me. I leap to the side, off the trail and into a massive blackberry plant. I'm up to my knees, but I can't stop now, my "health" is at stake. I jump clear of the bush, but a vine is wrapped around my left leg. It tries to hold me back. I pull free and pay the price. I now have what looks like claw marks running down and around by leg. From the inside of my knee, across my calf, to my outer ankle. It isn't too terrible. The blood only wells, it never runs. After a bit more jogging, though, I get the sting of poison and my calf muscle starts to burn in that special way. I'm able to walk it off, still alive (even by game terms).

More obstacles, over and under walls. A maze.

I don't even remember where I lost my second flag, but now we are two-thirds of the way through the course and I'm down to my last flag. Ahead is a nearly ninety degree ramp (this course runs partly over a motocross track). The wall is probably twelve feet tall and there are more of the reanimated at the top. At this point, we've gathered more survivors into our group, including a couple dead-men-walking/running. These are folks that have already lost all of their flags. With nothing left to lose, they offer themselves as decoys and meat shields. How very noble, but I can't climb the hill fast enough to get past the guard. I've lost my last flag and now I'm dead.

I keep running, no longer dodging the dead. I'm a decoy. I'm a meat shield. I'm not sure if I'm saving any lives though. And it turns out that this was the last group of the dead.

At the end is a water slide into a pool of "blood" and a crawl under an electrified fence. I've finished the race, dead on my feet. I think only one of our posse actually made it through alive.

When I get my results, despite multiple rest stops as we gathered our strength before plowing through our antagonists, I've finished this race at my fastest pace yet. At 36:00.3, just over eleven and a half minutes per mile, or an average speed of 5.5 mph. I'm really getting the hang of this, and I think I've drastically improved my chances of surviving the end of the world.

All roads lead to Foam

When I was a kid, I wanted to grow to be a ninja. Or at least a superhero. Well, that really just meant I wanted to be Batman.

I dedicated my life to pop culture: watching movies and cartoons, reading books and comics, bringing my mind to the absolute pinnacle of human potential. However, I didn't do the same for my body. I did some working out with my father, took various martial arts classes, and even learned a bit of gymnastics. I didn't devote myself to it. I was an amazingly fit nerd, not too physically coordinated, though I did a lot of walking, which kept me in shape.

As a geek I know this: superheroes train, a lot. The X-Men had the Danger Room, and many other heroes had some sort of training ground to help simulate the types of territory they may dispense justice within or ground they may cover during a chase. When I was a kid, my dad bought twenty acres of property. While he had very specific plans for much of it, one thing we talked about was building an obstacle course. One step on my way to superhero-dom. Well, that never actually materialized, but we did get a trampoline, and I used that to good effect.

Lately, I've been going to the gym quite extensively. Four or five days a week running and weight lifting. Still not reaching the levels of Bruce Wayne or Matt Murdock, but above average for a geek. But it's training, and for a more realistic purpose. Last year I was introduced to mud runs, which found a special place in my little nerd heart.

For those unfamiliar, a mud run is an obstacle course through some rough back country. You run over fields, through woods, and up and down hills. While many races share some common obstacles, such as wall climbing, there is a theme that sets aside some special obstacles for a particular event. And, as the name suggests, there is always mud. You will not come out of this clean. 

This past Saturday's event was the 5K Foam Fest. It's a bit on the easier side that the ones I've done before, but still an exhausting challenge. As with most events, team participation and costumes are encouraged. For a would-be superhero, I'm not much into the theatricality of it all. Instead, I'm there to challenge and push myself. I'm there for the competition, which is my own form of fun.

Foam Fest starts with a nice little jog across a pasture, before heading into the woods. Five foot wall climb, no problem. Crawling on your belly through a mud filled trench, no sweat. They didn't even use barbed-wire on this course, as most others do. Easy! Ouch... Some of the ropes over the pit that keep you crawling are electrified! More running. Another, now eight foot, wall. Here's something new: the spider forest. Ropes tied tree to tree like spider webs that you have to jump over, duck under, or a combination of the two. Football practice-type tire run. Where is all the foam?

Eventually, after a tough hill climb, jumping over trees, we come a halt. There is a line to ride down the ginormous slip-n-slide. And it's foam powered! Many took the ride and wiped out at the bottom, me included. But I was up and running again without injury. Then, more foam. A giant ball pit filled with the stuff. A human car wash, which had foam over six feet high and gave me my first mouthful of the nasty tasting stuff.

More mud, more hills, more obstacles, and even more foam at the finish (including my second mouthful). I'll admit it wasn't all running. During the later uphill portions I did some power-walking. I got passed by some folks, but passed others. But I never stopped, I continued to push. I completed the course in just under fifty minutes. My best time for such a race, but when you get down to the numbers 4 miles per hour isn't that impressive. Next time I'll do better...

Besides, nothing better than a good mud bath.