Just call me Mudder - Tough. Mudder.

Saturday September 10th, 2016.

Time to put my body through the hardest, toughest, craziest shit I've ever done.

6:30am - Alarm goes off and I'm up and at 'em. I have 2 hours to make and eat breakfast, shower, fit in a quick yoga session and tape up my knees and back. 

8:30am - We've got our buddies waiting outside, we're all laughing nervously. The sky is grey, the air is cool, and we're all a little jittery. We're checking each other out, am I wearing the right clothes? Think these shoes will be alright? What'd you eat for breakfast? Man, I don't know if I can do this - You can do this! We can do this! We're gonna friggen do this. Let's drive. 

10:00am - We arrive at the offsite parking. It's setting in. People are changing from flip flops to runners. We're trying to guess whose running and whose spectating. The comradery with strangers starts early as we walk to the busses and joke about lack of toilet paper in porto-potties. If you can't get over that obstacle just wait til we get to the event. 

10:30 - We file off the bus with the same excitement of a field trip - some of us anyway. We see the Finish line first. Did they do that on purpose? There are already people in view on the course - our start time is soon. We line up with other jittery first timers and distract ourselves with talks of what we're going to eat tonight. We swap training notes, we poke fun at ourselves, at each other. Before we know it we're signed in and pinning our numbers to our chests. This is real. 

11:30am - Like cattle we pile into the "Warm-Up Zone" after chugging the first of many electrolyte-pumped hydration sippers. The speakers thump with Jay-Z, Drake... anything they can think of to get us hyped up. It's raining now. Some people are hunched, trying to warm themselves - I've embraced the weather. This is nothing compared to what's ahead. We break the ice with those around us, still looking to find someone who looks more scared or nervous than we do - aha! Found one - ok. I'm ok. I got this. Let's go already.

12:00am - They move us to the starting line - holy shit. But it's not just Ok-GO. Come on. This is TOUGH FRIGGEN MUDDER. Of course there's more hyping to do. We salute legionnaires, returning Mudders. We salute EMS teams running together, and those who have raised money along their journeys - I let out an extra loud YYYEAAA, look up to the cloudy sky and remind myself this isn't just for me - don't worry Nonno, I got this. I make eye contact with my team. Michael nods and smiles. We shout TOUGH! MUDDER! with the rest of our heat like a swarm of vikings going into battle, the horn blows and off we go. 

We weave and wind through trees and mud puddles and the rain eases up. We see spectators cheering for loved ones, and engage in a couple high fives. Before we know it we're at our first obstacle - Kiss of Mud: Army crawl under barbed wire...in the mud of course. Let's go.

Next obstacle - Skid Marked. It's our first wall. Our first taste of what it means to work together to conquer a Mudder obstacle. There's four of us in our team, legionnaires are already in place on the other side with arms outstretched and helping people over. I go first, using one of our team members as a step ladder and the hand of a marine-type to pull myself up. Next comes Michael, then the rest. We're already sucked into the comradery of the event and stay to help a few more over. We're already heaving but we did it - and we're stoked to keep up the momentum. 

And on we go, winding through more woodsy trails, hitting the 2 and 4 km marks and three more obstacles. We pull ourselves through muddy tunnels, and get ourselves over what Mudders call Berlin Walls. I make bit of a crash landing as a drop 8 ft from the top of the wall, bang my knee nice and hard, but I shake it off and keep moving. We conquer the Blockness Monster and the Mud Mile, where I get another beautiful bang-up, this time on my elbow. This is a team obstacle for sure, I'm pushing peoples asses up over my head, I'm getting pulled up by those same strangers once they're up and over.

We hit the 6km mark shortly after making our way through the Birth Canal - low crawl under a water filled liner. The weight is killer, there's feet in your face and dirt in your mouth. Tough. Then it's up a hill, down a hill, up a hill (a mogul ski hill to be exact) and back down. All the while we hear hooting, hollering, cheers and OHHHHHHs. We're 7 km in and we hit Everest 2.0 - the one obstacle I actually had nightmares about.

This is actual footage of the exact version set up at our event - not of me, but you'll get the idea. 

I stood in this crowd and watched people run, faceplant, run again. I hooted. I hollered. I shuddered and nearly cried. I was TERRIFIED. Michael went first. I needed to rely on more than just the hands and muscles of strangers to catch me. I ran once, twice, three times and finally grabbed hold of someone. They grabbed my other hand, and eventually my ankle. I held on for dear life and eventually, answering the calls of "PULL HER UP! PULL HER UP!" was yanked up and over. I caught my breath, I shook it off, and helped several other people get up. What. A. Rush.

We have a hill to climb, then back down, then up again - 8km - back down. Another obstacle, Pyramid Scheme, we're exhausted. We catch our breath, then take advantage of legionnaires who have stacked themselves and are helping first timers up the ramp. We see a check point - We're halfway there. 

Jesus. Another friggen hill, what feels like the longest one yet. We're heaving. We're out of breath. But we're also side-by-side with the spectator path and there's a mom with two kids under the age of 8 walking up alongside us. Motivation. Keep going. Make it to the top. We hit the first obstacle I can't do, Funky Monkey - it's monkey bars . Shit. Michael's got this no problem, I cheer him on. He gets his first real injury of the day. But he did it. I'm out of breath just watching.

We hit our 10km mark. We're feeling the burn in our legs now, our feet are starting to swell and we're hearing less WHOOOs and more uggghs. We get to an obstacle called The Liberator and see our first medical concern, someone's fallen off and hurt their ankle. We tackle it anyway. A teammate almost sacks himself on one of the pegs, comes away shaken, but ok. Moving on.

More hiking. Next is Cage Crawl. More like cage freak out. Water is 2 or 3 feet deep. Cage over top with about 6 inches of breathing room. Pull yourself across on your back - no problem. The water is cold and I'm not a great swimmer, but this isn't swimming - this is holding, breathing. I get through it but I panicked. Boy oh boy did I panic. I walked away with jitters, goosebumps - that one freaked me out.

Shake it off. Keep going, breath. Next is Cliff Hanger: Ropes on a muddy hillside. Upper body. Team work. Helping hands. Nothing fancy. Muscles still burn though. Glad its done. Next is Devil's Beard: Heavy net, army crawl... naw, more like monkey crawl. Tiring, but a breeze compared to some of the other ones. Keep going. 

Next: Hold Your Wood. Grab a log, walk a loop with it. Some people go solo but we're a team. Michael and I pair up and I put my shoulders to the test. I need a break but get back into it and we complete the loop together. It's all good. Breath. Hey look - we hit our 12km mark. Only 5 more the go. 

We find Arctic Enema. I'm still shaken up from Cage Crawl so I sit this one out. The boys face their fears of ice cold water and take the plunge. Another km and a half and the wind is picking up, it looks like it's going to rain again. We find King of the Swingers and hit our 14 km mark. How appropriate. Leap from a platform 10 feet up, grab a bar, swing to hit the bell then plummet into 14ft deep waters. Not for me. So I take the chance to loosen my laces, expel some gravel from my shoes, hey there's Michael - Holy crap that's scary. But I'm proud of him, I'm spent just from watching. 3 km to go. 

Another loop and some logs to propel ourselves over - Lumber Jacked. This is where I got the nice bruise on my belly. We're exhausted. We go up a hill...flat....up more.... loop... King of the Mountain - some hay bails to climb over, slide down... another down hill now. Then up again... then down....second last obstacle - Balls to the Wall. Upper body, think gym class ropes, up and over the wall. I attempt it, and realize I'm on empty. I need to conserve what little I have left to get through this last lag. I watch Michael power through his aches and do it. We hit 16km as we make our way up the last hill. We get high-fived by volunteers waiting to cheer us on. They promise it's the last hill and we're almost there - just 1 more km downhill to go.

We've heaved and huffed with strangers who wanted to give up. Knee pain, back pain, sore feet, blisters. We're a mess. But everyone's convincing each other we got this. We can see the finish line. It's right there. I pass on the last obstacle - Electroshock Therapy. It's done though, we're done.

5:30pm : We finally cross the Finish Line.

We get our T-shirts, our honorary Tough Mudder 2016 Headbands. I'm so relieved. I'm proud, I'm pumped. I'M STARVING. Where's that free protein bar! Ah, there it is. Nom. MMmmmm . Maybe a beer isn't such a good idea right now.... Water. Lots of water. We get our bags. I peel off my shoes and socks and I finally really look at myself. Yuck. Gross. Awesome. Yes. I did it!

MUST TAKE CELEBRATORY SELFIE! 

We get on the bus. Everyone's dirty, exhausted. I'm giddy. I'm proud. I'm overwhelmed with accomplishment. I'm answering texts and other messages, people asking how it went, are we alive, is everything ok. Yes. Everything is good.

One last obstacle, walking from the bus to the car. The pain is setting in. Holy shit my feet ache. The tops and bottoms and toes and soles. All of it. My legs oh my dear sweet legs. Every stride is an ouch. 

Must. Get. To. Car.

There it is! Praise the angels thank you Jesus. I make a sad attempt with wet wipes to clean off some of the dust dirt and mud and get in the car. I chug some water, put the key in the ignition, buckle up and head out. Everyone's pooped. All I want is pizza, and to soak my feet. AND A SHOWER.

The drive home is a breeze, we get home, brag a little - or maybe a lot - to our welcoming party, and hit the showers. Never has a shower felt so good. The mud disappears down the drain and now I can see my battle scars. I have never been more proud of scrapes and bruises. I've been showing them off. I love them. They remind me how hard it was, how tough I was. How tough I am. I can't wait til next year.

Just call me Mudder - Tough. Mudder. 

Just Me

Tough Mudder is in 9 days. And yet I feel like my journey is just starting. Again.

I've been in a weird place these last few months. I've been in a lot of weird places.

I've been in grief. I've been lost. I've been found. I've been lost again. I've been with friends. I've been alone. I've been searching. I've been looking, listening. Seeing. I've done a lot of seeing, and noticing. Observing is a good word. Cataloguing, saving. I've been happy, warm, humbled.

I've felt a lot too. Being in a place, and feeling something, I've learned, are two VERY different things. At my Nonno's funeral, I was IN shock. I was IN grief. I was in a state of sadness... but I didn't feel much. That, I know now, is why I felt compelled to raise money for The Scarborough Hospital Foundation in his memory. That's part of why I'm doing Tough Mudder to honour him. I've said it before, he probably wouldn't understand what Tough Mudder is if he was here, if I were to tell him at one of our family get togethers... but I think now, where he is, he gets it. When I organized the fundraiser lunch, with all the sweets and teas and painting, he wouldn't have understood it if he was still here, but where he is now, when I talk to him and ask for strength, or tell him I miss him, he hears me. He understands.

I've dealt with this before - as a kid. When I was 8, my Nannu died - that's grandad in Maltese. My mom lost her dad long before my dad lost his. It was different, I was sad, I was hurt, I was confused. But I didn't understand. I didn't bare the weight and guilt that adults feel when they lose someone. Kids feel loss differently. I spent so much time with Nannu as a kid, he and my Nanna took us everywhere, and yet, my most vivid memories of him only come from pictures or home videos. I do have one, of us standing at my front door, him standing there in shorts, socks pulled up high, in a collared dress shirt and sweater vest, with his pencil thin mustache and a toothpick hanging from his lip. Waiting. Waiting for me and my brother to get ready so he could drive us and Nanna somewhere - I don't remember where. They took us everywhere, they babysat me when my mom first went back to work, looked after me when my mom was giving birth to my brother, they were so present - but I don't remember him as much as I wish I did. Instead I remember my Nanna, and growing up with her, a strong independent lady who relearned how to drive when she was widowed at 60 so she could continue to explore and enjoy life. That's what I remember.

Anyway, the hard part about losing Nonno is the memories. Thinking of my wedding, dancing with him. Of growing up knowing he was sick, but strong. I can still hear his voice... I can't hear Nannu's. Both realities are sad. They were two very different men, but with like values. They both worked hard, they both loved their families. They both wanted the best for us. They both left behind families who love and miss them very much.

I'm rambling. But I'm learning sometimes it's better to ramble. To rant. To get it all out there. Swimming in these thoughts in my head, alone, isn't always the healthiest thing to do. Yes, sometimes I need my quiet, and even here, writing/typing it all out but not really sharing with anyone in particular... it's not the same as tugging on the sleeve of Mum, or Hubby or Bestie and saying, hey, I need to talk... but this works for me. In it's own way this works for me.

I'm gonna jump here, because I got off topic - sort of. 

Honestly, I'm self editing here - I've finished writing this entry and realized - we're lacking some fluidity here, go back and contextualize for a second. When I write these, I don't know what I'm gonna write, I just write. I let it all out - sometimes I'm surprised at what spills out, but it's all valid, it's all necessary, it's all me. So it may not connect right away, but it all makes sense in my head - bare with me. On to the next thought: 

Last night Michael, hubby dearest, described me in a way I knew was true, but made me think in a way I hadn't really before. We were talking about the future, about family, about kids. I expressed my excitement to one day be a mom, to have a little human call me mommy. I said I know our reality now isn't ready for that, but that it's something I've always wanted very much. He said "Marina, your personality, the kind of person you are, you want to serve, to care for people. You want to mother and nurture, it's who you are".

That's the meat of the conversation there - there was more but it's not what's relevant. What's relevant is his perception of me. It's true. I am that way. And THAT's why I'm not one to tug on someone's sleeve and ask for help. I'm more one to be tugged on, in fact I rarely wait to be asked, I'm jumping in to offer help and guidance and support before people even realize they need it.

That's just me. 

It's not bad. 

It's not wrong. 

It's just me.

There's more to me than being the helper, the protagonist, the hero. There's the needy me. The praise-seeking me. The clingy me. There's independent me, strong me. Self-sufficient me. But there isn't a "I am the only one who matters" me. I'm ok with that. But I've learned with my increased self-awareness lately that, though I'm not the only one who matters, I do matter.

I'm important.
I deserve. 
I am worthy. 

Some people look at these ideas, and think wow, that sounds selfish. That's how I looked at it. 
There's a difference though, between selfish, and self-love. 

Self-love. 

hoo. (that's a big ol' exhale right there - not a sigh, sigh's to me are helpless, pitying, that's not what that "hoo" is. just an exhale.)

Exhale the bad out. 
Inhale the good. 

I accept. I embrace. I am strong. I am bold. I am loved. I can do this. 

I'm still training myself to make these mantras a habit. A reality. I believe in their purpose, in their significance. I am still working on applying them to myself. In saying them out loud and BELIEVING them. Not with my brain, with my heart. Well, with both I guess. 

Yoga is helping. 

I'm not going to go too far into this again but Yoga, specifically Yoga Camp care of Yoga with Adriene has helped immensely. If you're reading this and going - I want this for me - go. Go to the link. Go to her page. Do the camp. It's all you. Seriously it's all on youtube. No driving to class, no fees, no excuses. Do it at home, do it in the park, in your backyard. Find a spot, tune out the world, and get acquainted with Adriene, and with yourself. 

Anyway. 

Yoga is helping. Even if it's only 20 minutes. It grounds me, it helps me remind myself of my intentions for the day. People question why I wake up at 530 "just to do yoga". It's not just to do yoga. It's not a fitness craze. It's to anchor myself. In fact, the whole concept of anchoring myself didn't even come from Adriene or her yoga videos. It came from following The Rock on instagram. 

Yes. 

The Rock. 

Dwayne "Can you smell what The Rock is cookin" Johnson. 

On Instagram. 

Celebrities are super humans. Some of them anyway. I am very selective and methodical in my choices of who to follow. To be inspired. Not jealous. Inspired. 

He wakes up at 4:00 am to anchor himself before his crazy day ahead. His crazy is much different than ours. We think getting up, making breakfast for ourselves, and driving ourselves to work is crazy. He wakes up, works out, and typically has a list of 10 or 12 things to get through before hitting the hay (sometimes for only a few short hours). And most days those 10 or 12 things span across several states, or even countries.

Shit, right?

Suddenly making breakfast for myself doesn't seem that hard.

One day The good ol' Rock posted about his anchor. His gym. For some people its yoga with their pets, and for others its pumping iron. While some just need coffee and contemplation (I just watched Stranger Things ok - you're welcome if you get the reference, if not, just accept it as someone's anchor)

Back to the point: The Rock. Anchor. Grounding. Important.

You know what, I just googled "Rock, instagram, anchor" and I found it under "Rock Shares Inspirational Instagram Post". Perfect.

"You always want to protect the thing that allows you to do what you do. In this case, my "thing" to protect is my training. Regardless of what time zone I'm in, or getting pulled in a thousand different directions or how little sleep I've gotten - I'll always find a way to train, get after it and push thru. Training is my anchor - it centres me and allows me to then work a full 12-14 day of business. Find your anchor. Protect your anchor. And always clean up your own sweat 😉. #CentralIntelligence #WorldPressTour #3Countries #In3Days #GERMANY #OurAnchor" 

How can you not be inspired by that? 

Let yourself be inspired (Inspire, another word I've realized my love for as of late).
Anchor yourself. 

Find what matters.
Do it. 

Do we get it? Do we understand? What's an anchor.

Something you drop off a boat to keep you from floating away.
What are we trying to avoid floating away from?

Ourselves.

Yourself. 

Myself. 

AIYYOOO
EUREKA
AHA!
THERE IT IS!

I'm not crazy I swear. I type how I think ok? But seriously, that's what it is and when I realized that I had the same aha moment, reading an Instagram post by The Rock on my lunch break in my car sipping an Iced Cap.

I was already doing the occasional yoga video, and it took me awhile to finally slap myself (figuratively, not literally, self-love remember?), and just say OK I NEED TO DO THIS NOW, on the regs, every day.

When I got to day 6 of yoga camp, and felt like maybe I'd skip a day, something inside my churned, it twisted and knotted and said NOOOO.

That's when I knew. I knew I needed it . I needed my anchor. I was floating away and I needed to come back to me. It's not that I need to stretch or I need to breath... that wasn't the thought. The thought, the mentality was :

I need to do this because this is something I do for me.

And when a personality type is as focused on everyone else as I am - that's a HUGE breakthrough to have. Realizing: "Shit, doing something just for myself is important too". It's a big deal.

It's helped me identify the weird places I've been. It's helping my exercise self-awareness. Anchoring my day and setting an intention, a purpose, even if it's just "I will have a good day today", is helping me bring things into clear focus. I have a lot to work on still, a lot of self-bettering to do... but I'm proud of the fact that I've made it as far as I have.

I don't know if it's Nonno passing away, or signing up for Tough Mudder, or starting a new job, or breaking my hand. I don't know what sparked this intense desire to be me. But something did. These new perspectives, new lights shining into spaces I didn't know existed before...They sparked and caught and even if it's the littlest of flame right now, I'm adding to it each day. Little by little I find out more about myself, accept more about myself... like kindling.

So in nine days, when I cross the finish line at Tough Mudder, the journey isn't over. 

This is just the beginning.