Saturday’s high temperature at Mansfield’s Lahm Regional Airport allegedly reached 55 degrees.
I have my suspicions.
As if Tough Mudder’s 10-plus mile obstacle course wasn’t already challenging enough — participants received an email late last week suggesting the event might have to be cancelled because of, get this, too much mud on the course — Mother Nature decided to inject herself into the proceedings.
When my teammates and I left the starting line and spilled onto the course at 8 a.m., it was 45 degrees. When we tumbled across the finishing line about three hours later, it was still 45 degrees. The sun shone briefly, making a five-minute cameo appearance before being taken hostage by a low-lying blanket of gunmetal gray clouds, and the wind never stopped blowing.
Running across exposed fields in wet clothes and into stronger-than-expected headwinds sapped us of any excess body heat we may have generated. Given our pace, there was precious little excess body heat being generated.
Ironically, the only time any of us felt warm was shortly after dragging ourselves out of the ice water bath known as Arctic Enema. It turns out anything feels warm after that.
One member of our team, a longtime friend and former college roommate, flew in from southern California to take part in the event. When he boarded his plane in Los Angeles, the mercury had reached triple digits. Imagine his surprise when he splashed into the slop for the first time.
Tough Mudder isn’t supposed to be easy and it certainly wasn’t for the several thousand participants, some without shirts, who made their way to north central Ohio over the weekend.
And that’s what makes Tough Mudder what it is.
It’s not for everyone.
A lot of people ended up in the medical tent over the weekend, the course conditions and elements conspiring against them. Thankfully, most of the injuries and issues were minor.
A rescue diver was taken to MedCentral Health System/Mansfield Hospital in critical condition Saturday after suffering what event officials termed a “medical incident.” The condition of the individual has yet to be released and we can only hope for a speedy recovery.
According to the Tough Mudder website, the average age of participants is 29. My 40-something teammates and I have a lot more mileage on our tires. We weren’t the fastest on the course, nor were we the slowest, though none of that mattered.
Tough Mudder’s founding fathers didn’t design a race, but rather an endurance challenge. Officials are quick to point out the fact that there is no clock at the finish line. It’s not about finishing first. It’s about finishing.
For someone who grew up competing against everyone at just about everything, it is a refreshing change of pace. I still love to compete, though most of the competition these days is against myself.
The camaraderie forged through shared experience (suffering?) trumps the win-at-all-cost mantra so many of us adhered to for the entirety of our brief athletic careers.
The younger me might have gone as fast as he could Saturday morning. The younger me might have done so at the expense of his teammates.
When our team gathered the night before the event, the first-timers among us joked over a glass of red wine that it would be every man for himself Saturday morning. By the time we wriggled through the mud underneath the barbed wire at the first obstacle, they understood how silly that conversation must have sounded. And by the time we reached our second obstacle, the newbies were lending a hand to complete strangers.
I have a 7-year-old son who shares his father’s love of athletics. He plays soccer and baseball and just earned a new belt in his martial arts class. We have two baseball games on the schedule this week and instead of stressing to him the importance of winning during our drive to the ballpark, maybe we’ll talk about what it means to be a good teammate.
Isn’t that the more valuable lesson, after all?
Curt Conrad plans to begin training for his next Tough Mudder after some much needed recovery time. Follow him on Twitter @curtjconrad.
