World’s Toughest Mudder 2017, goal: make the brown bib dirty

This was my third year at Lake Las Vegas NV taking on the epic event that is World’s Toughest Mudder, a 24-hour, 5 mile obstacle course loop through the desert. About a week after my first Tough Mudder in Charlotte NC 2013, I found out about WTM. At that time the event was in New Jersey and the first contenders in water obstacles were breaking through ice to complete the tasks at hand. While that didn’t sound like that life for me, I wasn’t totally against the idea or going to stay no, I mean really, why not? “Embrace the suck” they say, “get comfortable being uncomfortable” they say.

The following year WTM moved to Las Vegas and this seemed promising, warmer weather, right? What could possibly go wrong, right? Ha. After a full year of competing in various obstacle course races throughout 2014 and two days of back to back Tough Mudder, I felt greatly inspired to visit this new location, volunteer and really see what it was all about. With only two weeks to plan, I bought a plane ticket, signed myself up for a “night ops” volunteer shift (10pm – 6am) and made my way out there. I watched the racers go off at 10am and eventually found myself sitting for a long while as the contenders faced the 35-foot cliff jump into the lake for the first time, the king of all obstacles, conveniently placed a mere quarter of mile from the finish line. During the day it was super-hot, suns out, guns out kind of day and we all knew come nightfall, the temperature was going to drop. The cold I had prepared for, the massive windstorm that started shortly before I arrived for my shift, I had not. It was a miserable 8 hours, I hated my life. Like really WTM, WTF had I signed myself up for?! I’m a person of my word, so I took the 8-hour beating that storm handed me, but seriously, what about those participating in the dust storm from hell?! Was I really up for that challenge?! I thought this event was all about the miles, not a free exfoliation in the process. Nonetheless, once registration opened for 2015, I signed up.

With a full season of what seemed like endless weekends of OCRs, I did every event I could, if I was racing, I was training, and training meant creating new muscle memory for whatever WTM could throw at me. I went back out to Las Vegas, head held high, I felt proud and honored to be among the few crazies to participate. I had a goal, 50 miles. To some it seems farfetched, but to me it seemed completely achievable if I didn’t quit. I knew over time, I’d get to the point where I would be done, or my body would be done with the obstacles, but that doesn’t mean I had to quit, I just had to accept penalties. Penalties come in a variety of ways, for WTM it meant more miles (that are not tracked, yet still accumulated) and possibly a penalty obstacle. I have no clue how many miles I really did at WTM 2015, but the books have me at 45. [Fun fact: The Monday before the Thursday I left for Vegas is when I found out my team had been selected for the first season of Spartan Ultimate Team Challenge. I barely could wrap my mind around the show with WTM finally upon me, I kept the next adventure to myself except for the one person I remember telling while swimming in water that takes your breath away. I still had a feeling like someone would pinch me and Id wake up.]

Fast forward to 2016, I had all the gear I needed, all the investments that go into WTM had been made, I just needed to do it again. After the SUTC show, Amber Johnson and I had created a beautiful little bond and decided to run this course as a team. I loved this idea because truth truth, Aimee Flint is not a runner, I’m an obstacle junkie and Amber would be the white rabbit to keep up with. Tough Mudder is all about comradeship and WTM is no different, “I understand that Tough Mudder is not a race but a challenge. I put teamwork and camaraderie before my course time.”, so assistance from others is and can be very common during the entire 24 hours we compete. Early in the race (third lap to be specific), I was unaware someone was about to give me a boost and a fellow contender indirectly “popped” my already injured knee, bringing my jog down to a hobble. Don’t worry though, hope found me later. Coming through the finish of my 4th lap, I had a list of gear changes, clothing changes, shoes changes that I needed to accomplish, however due to miscalculations in time, we missed our pit crew like two ships that cross at night. Struggling to remember my mental list, working to get everything done as quick as possible and not having the expected back up, I moved with absolute haste. I couldn’t fully make the adjustment on my gaiter (shoelace & ankle cover to keep out debris) and threw my leg back behind me. When I pulled my leg forward & straight again, the catch in my knee had released, my terminal extension back and I was no longer hobbling. Lap 5, LET’S GO!! Unsure if I’d have another issue with the knee, I did play it safe for the remainder of our time on the course and outside of losing each other at one point during the night, the least kickass moment of that race, we kicked ass as a team. We suffered together. We were strong together. We got the 50 miles. We got the coveted brown bib. Really, I couldn’t have been prouder.

This was my third year at Lake Las Vegas NV taking on the epic event that is World’s Toughest Mudder, yet again. Ive spent majority of 2017 adding rock climbing and ninja obstacles to my workouts rather than an OCR focus. Over the last year, Ive watched my body go from being great to holy shit, where’d that muscle come from, *flexing in the mirror, flexing the mirror* (so good I typed it twice); and with those physical changes came mental changes. I knew I could get the 50 miles, my strategy for quickly getting back on course worked well in a past event, I simply needed to replicate and beyond last year’s mileage, yet something about this year was different, I was different. My story is: obstacle course racing gave me life, rocking climbing changed me, and ninja set me free. The better I got, more I couldn’t wait to apply the person I as turning into and try out these new skill sets. As Tough Mudder likes to play with your fears a little bit, have I mentioned the 35-foot cliff jump yet? Its easy to be on course and focus solely on the miles, it’s just putting in the work, I could do that, I have done that, but I accomplished that by letting fear and doubt get in my way. I did this by “accepting the penalty” rather than failing the obstacle and “earning the penalty”. In years past, Id jump in the water and take the bypass lane, accept my penalty without putting try first. With each of those decisions, you are consistently adding more accumulated but not tracked miles and I’ll be damned if I were doing that again; 2015 I had 45 miles, but how many miles did I do beyond that? 2016 I had 50 miles, but how many miles did I do beyond that? 2017 I had to make a change. I am strong. I am brave. I can endure. I have endurance. I can do these obstacles. I can jump off a cliff. Matter of fact, there is nothing I can’t do, can’t is just a fear, it’s just a choice. It’s a light switch, do I choose the dark or do I choose the light? On or off. My shift for 2017 turned to the obstacles rather than miles; how many miles could I do while completing (or at least attempting) each obstacle each lap? How hard could that be, right?

With a twelve o’clock start time, the first hour of WTM is obstacle free as this splits up the 1600 crazies who were just released into the desert for 24 hours. At 1pm, obstacles started rolling open and with every 30 minutes a new obstacle would come alive, the contenders would go from bypass/ go around to tackling the obstacles right before your eyes. By the time I was out for my third lap, all day time obstacles were open, and I was ready to get down to business. Every obstacle from 1pm through lap 5 were perfect, 25 perfect miles, no penalties, unfortunately that was about to change as we all faced the obstacle completely out of our control, the outside temperature. As the temperatures began to drop, so did my ability to continue running, the pain spread across my knee caps turning my jog to a strong powerwalk, but this did little to keep me warm. It was lap 6 when I failed my first 2 obstacles, adding a half mile to my overall distance. And if I was cold before, I made a very poor decision trying to complete one of these obstacles and it killed my core temperature. I finished that lap completing an obstacle yet I still choose the penalty route simply to avoid another swim. I couldn’t get back in that water. After coming into the pit with 12 hours 4 minutes, 6 laps and 30.5 miles under my belt, I sat there on my little seat, sipping my perfectly made drinkable oatmeal trying to figure out my next move. At WTM, miles are important, obstacles are important, being on the course when that sun rises is your holy grail, everything you worked for during the night rests solely on the sun rise. With the idea I wanted 100% completion, determined not to slide into penalties simply to get the lap over with and ideally still out there when the sun is up, I made the hardest decision to date, I pulled myself from the course. I thought if I took some time to warm up, I could do 5 more laps in the 11:30 hours, totally doable, however I was taking the worst penalty of them all, stopping. Id designated 2 hours, 1:30 get warm and another :30 to get my mind right and get my ass back out there; two hours turned into six. With every passing hour, the temperatures were dropping just like all the contenders on the course. I heard at one point there were only about 100 people pushing through the night, Im sure this number was exaggerated, nonetheless it was believable to me. The next four hours, I drew out lines in the sand, landmarks in time but I could not will myself to go back out, crying didn’t help either. They say the hardest part about stopping is starting again and I am now familiar with that feeling. Six o’clock rolled around and you could tell the sun was coming up as well as my final line in the sand, I had no other choice but to suit up and go back out because I aint got no gotdamn quit in me. It was about 6:30 in the morning when I set out for what would be my final lap, lap 7. I still couldn’t run, my earlier powerwalk had slowed and the steep downhills were done by walking backwards. I had a damn near perfect lap with only 1 missed obstacle and from what I understood, it was the one I wanted to miss the least; this penalty gave you an additional .6 miles and through yet another water obstacle. The silver lining though, the exit was at mile marker 4 and only one more mile to go. With three obstacles until the finish line, I was approaching what would be my only cliff jump of WTM 2017. I walked down the hill, stepped onto the platform, stood at the back of my lane and shouted, “I have one question for you, Am I Clear?!” The volunteer said yes, and I promptly walked to the opening, said “oh shit” and my feet let go of the edge. All year long, I told myself to have zero hesitation jumping off that cliff and I did it. ::BLOOOOSH:: With the splash of the water, the climb out of the lake, the walk to the finish line, WTM 2017 was all over. Id collected 7 laps, 36.1 miles, completed all by 3 obstacles but still had no 50-mile recognition, no brown bib. I crossed the timing mat, Nick of TMHQ crowned me with the WTM headband, I went to my tent, pulled out of my pee smelling wetsuit and compressions (no one said ultra-racing was pretty), cleaned up my tent, donated my left-over food & water, took the long walk back to the car and headed off to the Airbnb.

The course for World’s Toughest Mudder 2017 has been described as the hardest they’d built to date, they kept you in and out of water frequent enough to piss you off, they tested you by saving all the grip strength obstacles for the back half and their Kiss of Mud obstacle (muddy barbwire crawl) was better described as Kiss of Rocks because the flesh on your knees if overrated anyways. With that said, it was my favorite course to date, and not because of the journey it’s taken me to get here but the journey I took the morning after while at the Championship Brunch (the morning after event where we celebrate those who won, we eat bacon and watch video footage from the day before). I struggled a lot with my decision to pull myself from the course that night, take the pit time, yet it was surrendering my pride as I walked into the brunch surrounded by brown bibs when it all hit home. Everyone around me was celebrating and I didn’t feel like a champion, I was disappointed in myself, I had mixed emotions and began to cry, I started to beat myself up over the coulda, woulda, shoulda, and lost sight over the whole thing. I didn’t have that feeling of proud Id experienced years prior when other contenders asked me how I did, I felt embarrassed to claim my 36.1 miles. I think they call that a pity party. “As a Tough Mudder I pledge that, I don’t whine, losers whine” and the reality was, I hadn’t lost a damn thing. After telling my story 5 or so times, the tears began to wear off and I began listening to my own words as well as the words of others as they were amazed Id only failed 3 obstacles in 7 laps. Somewhere in that 7th lap, I was discussing my progress with another contender and said, “some days we do great, some days we do amazing”, and these words started to have meaning. It’s funny how some of those laps become one big blur and others you remember everything exactly the way it happened, and I had a lot of those memories in that lap 7. Like when I got to the warped wall and there was no one on top to help catch me and pull me up, every lap beforehand I had attempted this slippery, dust covered wall and failed every time except lap 6. Id didn’t make it lap 7 either, however what I did make was the highest attempt on that wall so far with my fingertips breaching the top, I almost had it, all by myself. And just like cupcakes, I saved my biggest highlight of this story for the end. As I walked to Rope-A-Dope, a 5-foot forward jump that’s over water to a rope which one must climb to the top then traverse themselves down on the other side, I noticed I stood alone. To the right of me, I watched, what played out in my head like a Japanese animation, as contenders slid their way into the water, bypassing the jump, bypassing the obstacle, taking the penalty, when one of them shouted at me, “don’t think, just do”. His words were so hollow as he took easy way out. To the left of me, magically appeared two guys, I stood there watching them in awe as they both jumped for the rope, went to the top and down to the other side, when one of them shouted at me, “don’t think, just do”. The exact same message yet received completely different. Without hesitation, I jumped, I climbed, I traversed, I hit the ground, I inhaled, and I roared. That was the defining moment of my WTM 2017. To look right, I could get that 50 bib and be like “hey guys, I got a 50 bib” or to look left, go for 100% completion, attempt every obstacle every time every lap, no matter how cold, how red, how throbbing my hands might have felt. I chose left and those 36.1 miles were the hardest earned miles I’d ever done to date. They were better than 2015’s 45 miles or 2016’s 50 miles or that brown bib. “As a Tough Mudder, I pledge that I overcame all fears.” I didn’t come to WTM this year to collect miles, I came to collect my best miles, I came to collect obstacles, I came to collect my fears and prove it’s a four letter that’s driven by self-doubt. It’s a choice, like that light switch. And I couldn’t be prouder.

Thank you to all those who have loved and supported me through my journey, its been a hell of a ride so far and may they keep coming. My biggest shout out goes to my best friend, my rock and my pit crew personal Matthijs ‘Nicolay’ Rook, I appreciate you put up with my shit, you suffered along with me, stayed awake to endure it all and made some of the worst oatmeal in history, but I couldn’t have done it without you, I am forever grateful.