My wife calls it “being a boy.” Sometimes she says it in a bad way, such as when I tickle too hard, throw snowballs in the house, or try to give her a sweaty hug after going for a run. “Quit,” she’ll snarl, as if I’m the the boy from elementary school pulling her ponytail, “quit being a boy.” But sometimes she simply uses it, well…to remind me that I’m not as young as I use to be. So sometimes I hear “Have fun being a boy” or “Be careful being a boy” as I head out the door to go mountian biking, to play basketball, or to go…
…WARRIOR DASHing!
The official Warrior Dash shirt (which I am currently wearing to inspire me while writing this blog) displays the image of a black viking-style hat and simply asks “Are You A Warrior?” I don’t know about my official Warrior status, but I can now say I have finished the 3-mile adventure race and lived to write about it. After conquering completing the course featuring mud hills, mud pits, mud trails, pond crossings, cargo nets, fire jumps, and other obstacles (did I mention mud), I must admit I felt more like a boy than a warrior. And I mean that in the best possible way. For lack of a more poetic description, the Warrior Dash was simply…FUN.
Where else can you compete on a giant playground for grown-ups? Where else can you run/wade/trudge through a pond just because the course goes that way? Where else can you purposefully ruin your clothes sliding down a thirty-foot mud hill into a knee deep mud pit? Where else can you jump fire? And where else can you encounter runners dressed as He-Man, French Maids, Trojans, Fred Flintstone, etc?
Only at the Warrior Dash.
That’s right…and I just found out I can do it again. The small town of Clayton, GA has decided to host the race a second time and is inviting back all of its 10,000 muddy friends who participated in May (That’s right…10,000 runners). I guess it’s never too early to sign up and start training for next year’s race. So if you’re looking for a challenge, if you’re looking to have some fun, if you’re looking for a chance just to be a boy, then I encourage you to check out the Warrior site and mark the 2011 dates on your calendar. That’s 10 months to work on your costume, join the local Y, and then come home and give your wife some nice, sweaty hugs.
So what should they play when you pass away? Haven’t thought much about it? Me neither. It’s my wife who throws out a “When I die” question ever so often. I usually try to change the subject, but this morbid blog idea came from her latest Facebook update. I’m not a Facebooker, but I’ve often been accused of being a Facebook moocher (and will be until my wife changes her password), and this is what I found on her current FB status:
CNN is full of suffering. Image after image, report after report, suffering upon suffering, and eventually I have to turn the channel. I have to take a break from all the suffering, think about other things, watch something funny. But then I feel guilty, at least I can turn the channel, at least I can think about other things. There are thousands upon thousands suffering in Haiti at this very moment who can’t turn the channel, and my prayers are for them and for the gung-ho missionaries like my brother-in-law and his wife serving there as part of the active body of Christ.