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Before the Mud.

Before the Mud.

Last year I was asked to take part in a Tough Mudder event. And in a moment of weakness I agreed. There followed a period of training, running and the like, life happens. A body not used to moving faster than a brisk walk dragged to a moderate shamble, pull-ups elude me even now after an injury, but I got some work in. Then travel and building and selling a house and family and a calf injury slowed everything down. Strange how quickly a date comes round when you ignore it.

After the mud.

After the mud.

Our team of nine became five during the preceding months, but the day and the start time arrived with clear skies and healthy fear. We all did it, helping each other, and others. It was as advertised good fun, and no-one minds if you walk, shamble run or crawl around the course.

Post Cry-baby gassing.

Post Cry-baby gassing.

A healthy dip in icy water.

A healthy dip in icy water.

That's us at the far side, climbing a wall.

That’s us at the far side, climbing a wall.

There are twenty-three obstacles, over the eleven mile course and we made it in just over four hours. A fun way to spend a Saturday, maybe next year I can be better prepared. What? Again? Do you know some people do multiple circuits on the same day, astounding. Hats off to them, not something I fancy.

Anyway, I’ll leave you with one last picture, just for the fun of it.

After a good dunking.

After a good dunking.

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