(If you ever write about characters who run frantically from zombies, chainsaw wielding yokels, or rabid animals, this makes for great research)
There’s nothing better on a Saturday morning than getting dirty. Innuendo aside, the MudDog Run 5k had multiple stream crossings, a sea of mud, climbing walls, and a slip-n-slide to die for. And mud. There was mud.
Here we are prior to the race. Notice the cleanliness.
As soon as the starting gun went off, we ran down a steep embankment and across a stream. Of course, when the stream is churned up from runners, it’s impossible to tell the footing or the depth. I prudently held back toward the rear, so I could see from all the face-plants where NOT to cross. I passed one woman hopelessly struggling to free herself from the quicksand of mud. She was stuck worse than a cow in a flash flood. Yes, I passed her. I did momentarily wish I had a tractor to pull her out, but I had a race to run. Hope she eventually got free.
There were more stream crossings than I could count. Sucking mud, slippery moss-covered rocks, embankments so steep I had to crawl up on my hands and knees. The last mud run I did, I got stuck halfway down the slip-n-slide and had to scoot myself along, so this time I launched myself on my belly and was shocked at how fast I rocketed down the hill. So fast that I caught air on the ‘speed bump’ at the end and wound up submerged in the muddy pool. I think there are pictures of it online somewhere. It was pretty spectacular.
Tunnels of mud, fields of mud, walls of mud. Then they made us army crawl through a vat of flour. Luckily there were three more stream crossings before the finish line to wash off the crusty wet dough.