Running a race that includes obstacles in mud pits wasn’t something I had ever particularly wanted to do. But if we only ever did things on our bucket list, we’d probably end up doing a whole lot of nothing most of the time.
So the fact that more than 24 hours later I am still trying to figure out how to get enough dirt out of my clothes so I can put them with the rest of my dirty clothes to wash isn’t an indication that I didn’t have a good time. Well, it isn’t an indication that I’m not glad I did it, at least.
Maybe I’m too old to sincerely enjoy a mud run. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have a childhood that involved playing in mud so I don’t understand the appeal. Maybe I’m not the type of person who finds combining running (something I already don’t like) with mud (something I don’t have any desire to deal with on a typical day) to be a winning combination.
Or maybe I’m just not (as the race refers to participants) a “dirty girl” at heart.
I’m fine with any of those explanations, really.