A few weeks ago I found myself hiking up ski hills for hours in very cold weather. There was also plunging into ice water, crawling through subterranean passages, wading through waist-deep mud and hurtling myself over 12-foot walls. Did I mention running through live electrical wires?
I’ll bet you’re thinking this is a piece about some kind of political torture situation, right? Actually, I volunteered for all of this. On May 11th I participated in
Tough Mudder at Mount St. Louis Moonstone, north of Toronto. Tough Mudder is a 10-12 mile military-style obstacle course designed by British Special Forces to test a person’s physical and mental resolve. The average participant in a Tough Mudder event is a 26-year-old beefy dude, which begs the question of why a 40-something mother of two would want to take something like this on.
When I told
Erica about my experience at Tough Mudder she remarked how it could be compared to motherhood. She’s right: Hauling myself through muddy, pain-filled miles is not entirely dissimilar to raising children. For starters, it was dirty and gross, so there’s that. It also required the help of many people to complete. I had a great team, but also relied upon the kindness and brute strength of strangers. It took a village indeed. Most importantly, training for and completing Tough Mudder required a large amount of dedication and determination. There were days when I didn’t want to train, and moments in the course when I didn’t want to continue, but I did because I’d made a commitment, kind of like motherhood.
Motherhood, though, had nothing to do with my motivation for participating in Tough Mudder. On the contrary, actually. I’m a born-again fitness buff who only discovered exercise at 37. Since then, my fitness has become a motherhood-free zone. When I’m in the weight room, I’m no one’s mom or wife or co-worker. I’m just the kind-of-old broad trying to lift the really freaking heavy stuff, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. When my Lulus go on, I leave the mommy in me behind. The time I spend getting fitter and stronger is challenging and rewarding, meditative, and invigorating.
I feel so strongly about the separation of gym and motherhood, in fact, that I didn’t allow my children to come to Tough Mudder and cheer me on. How’s that for a statement? Here’s my reasoning: Kids, being kids, usually have to pee. Or they are hungry, or bored, or cold, or in some other way requiring of attention. I have no problem with this in most areas of my life. I did, after all, sign up for that job. But Tough Mudder was the culmination of hours, weeks, and months in the weight room, on the treadmill, the stair machine, and hills at the park, and it was mine. So what was it like? Really, really cold, for one. It was indeed physically and mentally challenging, and it was a tremendously rewarding experience. I’m going back for round two in September, so I guess there’s something a little addictive about pushing the limits like that.
I spent Mother’s Day this year bruised and scratched and completely thrilled with myself. It was this mom’s perfect gift to herself.
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