"Warriors Eat Pirates and Shit Ninjas"

Yeah, that about says it all.

So, whenever anyone asks me to do a different kind of race, I am almost always up for the challenge.

200-mile relay? Why not!

Time trial bike race? Sign me up!

Obstacle course 5k where you run through fire and crawl through mud?

Absolut-!

Wait - what?

Oh yeah - I was all on board for the "obstacle" part, but seems that when I was asked about this back on Easter, I must have been in a cheesecake/banana mousse coma and sort of missed the "jumping-over-fire" part.

When it was brought to my attention by Spie, it was too late. Money paid, deal on.

So without further ado, let me introduce you to the Warrior Dash.

The Warrior Dash is a 5k obstacle-course run. All of it is on trails and through wooded areas, and almost the whole thing consists of sloshing through mud.

I was told there were 12 obstacles, but I didn't count. And although I promised to take a disposable camera along, it's been a crazy weekend here at Chez Cheese, and I forgot.

We've got action pics of some of the obstacles, but for the rest, you'll have to deal with my often-tangential description.


The Warriors - Havilah (Ellen's sister-in-law), my brother-in-law Patrick, and me.


Me and the Preggo. A real warrior would have worn her Big Girl pants and hauled some ass through the mud pits. *shrugs* Guess we aren't all cut out for the horns.

Side note - what on Earth is Havi doing in the backgroud? We are supposed to EAT ninjas for lunch, not pose like one!


Sweet head gear. Once my fur lined panties arrives later this week, the REAL fun will begin, if you know what I mean.

*wink*

And if you don't know what I mean, it means you're my 11-year-old neice sneaking peeks at my blog, and you shouldn't be reading this adult material anyway. So get off before I call your mom.

Either that, or you're on a dry spell. But dont' worry. I used to have dry spells too. It'll pass.


Intimidation.

Anything look "off" in this picture? Nothing? Maybe it's just me...


All taped up, just in case. I had my orthodics in my shoes, which I wasn't about to part with, especially right in the middle of marathon training. Word on the street was that in the first (of two) mud pits, there were floating shoes from the poor souls that didn't think ahead to use duct tape.


Kissin' the guns.

Okay - so the gun that usually goes off is actually in the form of fire shooting out of two columns bookending the start line. We run underneath them, and dang, it's hot.

We run for about 1/2 mile, mostly over grass, with a few muddy hills and puddles thrown in. It's slippery, somewhat strecherous, and hard to keep the footing safe. First obstacle comes up, and we have to hurdle ourselves over a bunch of busted out cars in a busted-out-car graveyard.

Following that, we have to hurdle a bunch of walls - I basically run up, sit my fat stuff on the top, and toss my legs over. We rope climb up a muddle hills, army crawl through some large drainage piles, hurdle ourselves over a HUGE drainage pipe (that I actually slide right back down off of, and had to be boosted over with the help of a man behind me).

Enter first mud pit - I slid down a hill and right as I got to the bottom, I launched myself dive-style into the waist high mud water. I slopped through - feet getting stuck in the mud under the water, and then battled my way up the muddy incline at the other side. It was a joke trying to get footing.

It was right around here that I noticed everyone else walking.

Why?

Because trying to run soaking wet and covered in mud is like trying to run with ten pound weights on my ankles.

I got a couple of encouraging words from the walkers around me as I kept running.

I eventually rounded the corner to the open main field.


It's the hay stack climb.








I know it looks like I was sitting up there, but believe me you - I was not. I was stratagizing while trying not to tunble straight down on my face. Apparently it paid off too - Cheese told me that a couple people tried to run down (?!?!) and biffed on their faces.


Next up - the rope climb. Good thing I kissed the guns earlier - I really needed their help.

It was here that I also heard "GO IRONMEG!" coming from the crowd from none other than Iron Clyde!! Turns out his wife was running it and he was (perhaps for first time, Clyde?) being the spectator. Dude, it was AWESOME to hear that name be called out!








And down.....

After these two obstacles, there was a tire-hop where you have to one-foot hop through a mess of tires, like a football player - only these were filled with mud and staggered in a way that forced you to leap more than actually hop. This was then followed by a series (like 16 or so) up and down hills - all riddled with big roots and mud holes.

Ahh, and for the moment we've all been waiting for.

The fire jump and mud pit. In video!

(I am the one in the white visor and white tank)


And just in case you couldn't really see me (or concentrate over Cheese's screaming), here is a up-close picture of my brother-in-law.


Nice of him to bring a little Christamas to June with his chestnuts and an open fire. Just hauling the ol' boys over the heat...


Same goes for the final mud pit - here is Havi, so you can see just how low and deep you have to get into it.




Can anyone out there explain how my entire being is crusted over with mud except for this one little spot right there on the bottom of my shirt?!?!


Me and my ten-pound ankle weights.


Me and my War Paint.




Three Warriors


Hi Mom!


Me and Patrick


Puttin' a little (s)ass into it.


Well, as long as the mud made me sloppy, why shouldn't the beer?


Nom, nom, nom.


Real Warriors eat the grizzle.

Guess if you can't be one, marry one.



Final thoughts?

Do.This.Race.

It was plain old stupid fun. Wet, sloppy, muddy, fun.

Oh, and did I also mention stinky? Hell yeah, it smelled like a massive turd from the second we stepped off the shuttle through the last mud pit - real people turd, too. I mean, could a race be MORE tailored to the girl who is chronically a shoelace-distance away from crapping her pants? And oddly, it actually made it more fun - thinking I was swimming in turd.

Now if THAT'S not an endorsement, what is?

Kicking off Race Season - Wisconsin 1/2 Marathon

I know, I almost forgot I did these silly little things called races too!

But alas, it’s true – I still run, bike and (sometimes) swim.

Thus, I have managed to drop what sparse duckets I have on a few races this season, and completed my first one of the season this morning – the Wisconsin half-marathon.

I ran this race last year, and they have a killer awesome course that I happened to PR on last year.

Sub 2, baby.

*golf claps*

So yeah, its kinda one of my favs.

So here we go again this year, and the race didn’t disappoint.

First off, Spie came out to cheer me on, which was AWESOME! Even after doing her long run this morning, she rode her bike all around the course – sadly, I has laser focus for most of the race, so I only caught her once!

So without going into a mile-by-mile replay, let’s hit the highlights:

Picture the scene:

Me - Deep in the corral with 30 seconds before the gun goes off.

My bowels - Moving.

Huh. Weird.

Because until that moment, all efforts to make a poopy had been unsuccessful.

As luck would have it, we get the final warning before the gun, and who decides to show up?

Mr. Turtle, just peeking his head.

And Neck.

Hell, the little bastard was waving to spectators as I crossed the Start.

Now, common sense would say, “Take a second to go to the bathroom BEFORE you cross the start line, because you cross, the clock starts.”

But the Panic Megan said, “Go go go!! Just hit the Porto-Potty at the first station ASAP!”

So off I went, managing to withhold a MAJOR running faux paus until Mile 1, where Scene 2 went down as follows:

BATHROOM!

NO!! THERE’S A LINE!!!

*FOOT TAP FOOT TAP FOOT TAP*

FINALLY!!!

COME ON POOP – HURRY UP!! STOP HANGING AND JUST FALL IN ALREADY!!!

PHEW!

NO TOLIET PAPER?!?!?!

WELL, LET’S HOPE IT WAS A CLEAN BREAK!

PANTS UP AND WE’RE OFF!

And over the rest of the course, I ran as fast and as smart as I possibly could – trying to make up those lost minutes, which I estimated to be about two minutes in total.

And since I forgot my watch (I apparently couldn't be bothered with small details at 3:45am), I had no idea how things were fairing for me, especially considering that only Miles 1 & 2 had clocks.

But no matter – I didn’t care. I actually liked running “naked” – mostly steady, with kicks here and there, and a slow down if needed (but never for long).

It was just me, and my mind, and my own self-motivating thoughts to push through the pain and the slowly creeping fatigue.

When I turned the corner to homestretch, I was pretty sure I had made up the Poop Time, and then some. I was confident that – yes – I put it all out there, and ran my race as best I could. No excuses – I gave it all that I had, I all that I trained for – and when I finished, I gave it every last gasping breath in my body.

But the clock told a different story.

I fell short of new PR.

By seconds.

Ten seconds to be exact.

I immediately felt the tears – stupid poop!! Next time I am going to let you just fall out of my shorts – to hell with the toilet!!

But then I saw Spie – and she was so happy, and so supportive, and so congratulatory that it was hard to stay down on myself.

My muscles were cramping, I felt like I was going to puke, and I then decided – yeah, you did everything you could do. Be proud of that. Be proud you about to vomit Roctane. Be proud that you ran until almost-collapse. Be proud.

And I am.

I mean, yeah, it’s hard not to go over and over and over every mile and say, “Well, I could have gotten my water faster at that stop” or “I could have gotten up that hill just a few seconds faster,” but I am trying not to do that. I did what I could in those moments. There are no excuses. I literally did what I could.

Shit happens – literally, sometimes. And like a recent blogger post that I have really taken to heart – no race will ever be perfect. But what you do whatever it takes to make it as good as possible.

And you never resort to excuses.

Not even excuses of the brown 2-minute variety.

So it is what it is – and what it IS is a motivator to kick things up a notch – it’s like Potential knocked on the door and said, “Hey, I'm your Potential. Pleased to meet you. Can I come in?”

And I am going to open it wide and welcome him with open arms. Because this race showed me tht I actually have potential.

Potential to actually be faster - not just envy it.

Potential to race smarter – and not complain about elements I can’t control.

Potential to actually see what my body is capable of – and not just wonder.

Potential to "race" - and not just simply "run" these events.

Potential to mentally conquer - or, like Liz says, "Adapt and Overcome" - because I am an athlete and that's just what athletes do.

So this race? This may not have been that perfect race, and I may not have reached the time I had hoped for, and I may not have acheived what I wanted.

But yet, I still got what I came for – and what I needed.

"I Never Saw Two People Enjoy Their Wedding As Much As You Two"

So says my mother.

And I tend to believe her, mostly because from the second I turned the corner out of the hallway to walk down the aisle, I was in wedding bliss.

I carefully reminded myself all the tips of the days that were imparted to me by all of you:

"Take it all in."

"Go slow."

"Remember EVERYTHING."

"It goes so fast so enjoy."

And I did. All of it.

I remember just about every last detail - and the tiny group was just right to make sure I got a chance to talk to everyone, and still spend most of the night (and quite literally every song) on the dance floor.

In fact, my dress is ruined at the bottom from all the dancing.

So here are a few of the moments:


The cake, complete with the silver ribbon to match my dress. However, I have no idea who put those rose pedals around it.

Not my call.

But quick story - Cheese and I actually were thoughtful about putting together this cake - I mean, we all know how important cake is in my life, so I wasn't just going to show up with some Betty Crocker nonsense (well, to be honest, given our budget, I might have, but the fancy cake actually came with our food/drink package, so we took full advantage!) So we chose moist white cake with three layers of thick fudge and Baileys Irish Cream filling, topped with buttercream frosting -yeah, 'cause that's how I roll - if your not in a sugar coma, it doesn't count. But I never got to eat it. Remember that story - I'll finish it in the next post.....

The table - I post this for a few reasons - this first is that my sister (again) did all the centerpieces, and I loved them. So simple, so perfect. The little bags with the "d" on them are actually homeade chocolate chip cookies made by my mom, while those red labels are embossed by my sister Devin. She did ALL of them. The lower case "d" represents my new last name, and was also the same lower case font we did our invites in. I liked the casualness of it. My mom then decorated the rest of the table with the grey runners and the floor-length linens.

Cheese's nephew - but the reason I put this in is this: Look at what he's holding. It's a chinese take-out box filled with Swedish Fish, Mike n Ikes, Tootsie Rolls, Peanut MnMs, Red Vines and Reeces Pieces. If he turned it, you would see a similar red round label also embossed with lower case letters that read "thank you." Heck yeah - No wedding of mine was going to be without a self-serve candy bar!! And thanks again to Devin for the labels she put on literally 100 boxes.

Ellie giving a speech. I believe it went something like this: "Now, I know many of you don't know Megan all that well, but in addition to being kind and beautiful and smart, you should also know that when she gets raging drunk, she pees in closets and on floors."

*Insert crowd roaring here*



And then up was Devin. My favorite quote from her speech? "Cheese, I intially wanted to use my speech to call you an asshole for stealing my best friend, but I see how happy you made her, more happy than we have seen her in so very long."



Is that a tear I see? Did Devin actually *gasp!* cry?!? Dang, makes my stone cold heart all warm and fuzzy.

Mom, in the two seconds of her speech she wasn't sobbing.

The best man and speech.

Just chatting.

I *heart* this picture.

And now, for the first dance...

"Today is the day I make you mine" - Today, by Josh Radin

"You looked right through me, there was...no one else

I sat besides you and...became myself."

Cheese and Momma Cheese

And lest we forget my dance with my mom - "You'll Never Find Another Love" by Lou Rawls,which she used to dance around to while holding me right after I was born. Momma Q spun me around for four minutes while my dress hung on for dear life. Yeah, these are the G-rated pictures.

Me and Nolan

Flower Girl Kennedy and her dad- sweetness!

Momma Q

"I got a feelin'....that tonight's gonna be a good night...."

"Here we go, here we, now we on top!"

Daddy Cheese

"Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur, the whole club was lookin' at her

She hit the floor!

Next thing you know -

Shorty got low, low, low, low..."

"I like the way you move - da da duh."

Devin and Patrick!

"Let the music play

He won't get away..."
"Just hit the groove and he'll come back to you....Let it play!"

Nicole, fellow blogger and probably the best dancer of the night - showed my ass up, for sure!

Nolan and Jenny

"Footloose! Cut loose! Kick up the Sunday shoes!" And then Colin dropped to the floor and did the catapiller. Hell yeah, he did.

Footloose wore him out.

Oh, looks like someone's crashing from the sugar binge of the cake, pastry table, cookies, and finally four trips to the candy bar!

"Rock me momma like a wagon wheel, rock me momma any way you feel"

"Oh oh! We're livin' on a prayer!

Take my hand and we'll make it I swear!"

"Pour some sugar on me!"

Check Jenny out!

Me and Nicole at the Dollar Dance - oh yeah. Have I mentioned this?

Apparently, anyone NOT from Chicago likes to participate in this thing called the Dollar Dance, where the maid of honor and best man collect money from people who want to dance with the bride and groom - it can be any amount of money. The point is to make extra money for the honeymoon - and I guess its all the rage in Kansas. I dreaded this, but we actaully made out with mad loot.

Who knew I am sort of a hot commodity when it comes to dancing?

Now I can't say for sure how much Nicole paid for a little "Megan Action," but I am p.r.e.t.t.y sure I made it worth her while *wink*

Lady: "You come here often?"

Kade: "No, my mom wants me home and in bed by 8."

Lady:"Well, can I buy you a drink?"

Kade: "Sure, I'll take a milk, straight up. You know what? Make it a double - I brought my cookies over from the dinner table."

Lady: "Your mom every talk to you about cougars?"

Kade: "Like the ones in the zoo? Oh yeah. She said to stay away because they'll bite me really good."

Lady:"Your mom, huh?"

KAde: "Yeah - she looks sort of like you. Do you know her?"

Love.

Is the night already over?!?!?! They had to literally drag our asses to the car to go to the hotel. I could have stayed many more hours. But bigger and sunnier and sandier things awaited!

Hope you have enjoyed it so far - I know we have.

So if you're not sick of this yet, tune in tomorrow for some pictures (I'll find that one of Devin!) and a recap of the rehersal and honeymoon.