A couple months ago Dan peer pressured me (and Josh and his friend Andrew) to sign up for the Dallas Tough Mudder. The tag line is “Probably the toughest event on the planet,” so why not? Watch the video…
So… why the heck did I think I can do that?? I’ve been running a few times a week and my speed has significantly improved. Still not awesome (or even Josh’s slow jog place), but good for me.
I figure every couple of miles I’ll have to do a crazy stunt and then I’ll be so glad that whatever that is will be over, I’ll be happy to run again. Each morning and night, I do a strict regiment of pushups. I’m up to ten. So that’s good news.
There’s a park a few blocks away from my house that has monkey bars. I’ve run there a few times. Honest to sweet baby Jesus, I could only do three monkey bars for a while. THREE. That’s bad. Seven year old Shannon would hang her head in shame of that. Seven year old Shannon also weighed half as much.
In better news, this weekend I did SEVEN monkey bars when my dad and I walked up to my grade school. Maybe it was home field advantage, maybe it was partially do to the fact that I wasn’t sweating, but either way I hope I get at least six the day of the race.
Besides running, push ups and my pathetic playground workouts, my best strategy so far is to not think about the Tough Mudder at all. Total denial has aided my sleep at night and made me overall less anxious about doing stunts designed for people who do XFit and Navy Seals.
Dan said I can’t cry during the race, that will only make more mud. Of course, I’ll post after the event (assuming I live). In the meantime, I should probs stick to competitive Oreo eating, that seems all-around less stressful.