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The Narcissist's Guide To Tough Mudder

Because why the hell else would you put yourself through this?

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You were apprehensive, but then you saw that vapid-hot fitness model, whom you follow on Instagram for no reason at all, posted a Mudder photo and hoovered up 1700 likes and you changed your mind.

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But nonetheless, you dutifully put in a few extra hours at the gym (if only so those obliques will really pop for the photos).

The only training you've really done was solely to facilitate humblebrags (which felt great), but now your arches hurt and you haven't actually run more than a few miles at a time.

And you signed up for the last heat of the day (so you'd have time to sleep in and get ready and shave everything), but somehow you're registered in the first wave and have to be up at 5:00AM???

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WEEKLONG TRAINING CRAM SESSION (because that's always a great idea).

You check in and you're told repeatedly (as you were in several emails you didn't read) that it would be unwise to bring your phone on the course. You won't be able to take action shots of this thing. You're coming undone.


Adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins, you take off in a dead sprint. You fly by everybody. THIS IS YOUR MOMENT AND IT WILL GO VIRAL because the one thing you did verify (after you grudgingly left your phone in your bag) was where the event photographers would be stationed.

But then you actually jump into the ice cold water and realize you're not, in fact, a cold-blooded reptile who's impervious to extreme temperatures, and you emerge looking less than spectacular.


Your adrenaline has been frozen solid. Now everyone's passing YOU. Even though this is not a timed race and is supposed to be about camaraderie and team spirit, you feel like an utter failure and you're pretty convinced you'll be a humiliating meme before the halfway point.

Vigor renewed, you blast through the course, passing him every mile or so, then letting him pass you. You don't even care that you can't feel your quads and you keep tripping over your own feet. It makes you seem endearing and real to your Mudder Crush (who hasn't noticed you because, in case you've forgotten, he's participating in a 10+ mile obstacle course).


But then you finally get to that dreaded electroshock obstacle, and as you're mentally preparing for it, the person in front of you gets caught in a snarl of high voltage wires. They're trapped as they're shocked over and over before your horrified eyes.


But there's a crowd watching and cameras and a merch counter (MAYBE THEY HAVE TANK TOPS!) waiting on the other side of the finish line. You steel yourself and dash through it, and at this point, you're so terrified you don't care what you look like. You just need to cross that #*@%ing finish line alive.


As you share your accomplishment, your heart swells with a joy that can only come from the thinly-veiled bitter envy of forgotten friends and other online acquaintances you'll never actually meet but who feel compelled to Like it anyway because otherwise why even follow each other?

Thought so. See you at the next one!

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