December 2010…our apartment…7 pm.
Dan: Hey Fraker you wanna do the Warrior Dash?
Me: What’s that?
Dan: It’s a race where you run through mud and obstacles.
Me: Hmmm…running? The only running I do is to a bar for happy hour or away from burglars, zombies or an ovulating Roseanne.
Dan: It’s only $40…
Me: $40? The only time I spend $40 is after a ran to a bar during happy hour or on a couple of raw steaks to stop an ovulating Roseanne.
Dan: Lots of friends will be there…
Me: Friends? The only time I go with friends…
Dan: I swear if you say the words “ovulating” or “Roseanne” again I will strangle you with my jock strap.
Me: …
Dan: That’s what I thought…you get a free beer and a Viking helmet for participating…
Me: SIGN ME UP!!!…you also get a free beer and a Viking helmet for paying $40 to have an ovulating Roseanne sit on you while wearing your jock strap.
Dan: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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That’s what the conversation was to convince me to do the Warrior Dash (it may not have gone exactly like that…when I awoke the next morning my memory was hazy and all I smelled for 48 hours was the faint odor of gooch and regret). That was six months ago. I originally signed up for the Warrior Dash so I could have something to get in shape for (normally it would be for bikini season, but my doctor strongly recommended I don’t wear bikinis anymore because I was a boy and I shouldn’t confuse people because of my man-cans and lack of a distinguishable penis…go figure), but a series of events (Halloween 2010, beer, pizza, beer, wings, beer, uncomfortable upper thigh chafing and beer) caused me to have zero conditioning for this event. Uh-oh.
For those of you that don’t know the whole story of the Warrior Dash it’s a 5k (3.1 miles) run that includes all sorts of obstacles along the way. All you need to know about the event is from one of their T-shirts at the gift shop: “Mud. Sweat. Beer.”
The Warrior Dash was held in Logan, Ohio. It’s a little town an hour southeast of Ohio and judging by the looks of the houses as we drove through the town center to park our cars…this was the big event of the year. People were sitting on their porches just watching us drive by. We weren’t even near the Dash itself…but the townspeople were riveted. (“Hey Earl, get out here! There be some o’ dem city folk coming through! And they’re using them horseless carriages we heard about!”)
After we parked we took a bus to the battleground. When we got there we had to sign a waiver saying that we won’t drink alcohol beforehand (oops), we wouldn’t dive in the last obstacle (double oops) and we wouldn’t whip it out while yelling “Everybody wang chung tonight!” (didn’t do that…I sang Bohemian Rhapsody). We were doing our run at 5 p.m. and we got to the battleground at 2 p.m. so we did what any trio of twenty-somethings would do…we drank. Not only did we drink, but I took inventory of the pros and cons of the pre-race festivities:
Pros
- Scantily-clad women. Just imagine if you will a sea of in-shape women in sports bras, short athletic shorts, bikinis and even just underwear (it took me 53 takes to figure it out, but there were ladies in underwear…then I looked 257 more times just to be sure). If that doesn’t get your mast all full and proud you must either be gay, with your girlfriend or just cranked one out.
- Gatorade and vodka. There’s nothing more beautiful than dehydrating yourself with alcohol and rehydrating yourself at the same time with Gatorade. It makes me feel like an alcoholic athlete…an alcolete! Now I know what to drink on a Friday afternoon before going for a jog…chug a 32 ounce Gatorade with 6 shots of vodka, run 20 minutes and when you get back a healthy buzz is your reward.
- Black smurf. It’s exactly what you think…and it was awesome.
- Dog dish. So after the first two gatorades I spotted a dog dish, but not just any dog dish…it was an Ohio State dog dish. I gave it the token drunk logic for property (wait 10 minutes then it’s yours) and after the required time I simply slipped it in my bookbag with the goal of cleaning it out when we got home and drinking out of it all night. Jackpot!
Cons
- Dog dish. Why the hell did I want to steal a dog dish? So stupid!!!
- Dude in thong. Now I know what I did to everyone by my calendar, but with one important difference. Thong Dude: disgusting. Bryan Fraker in thong: ravishing. Big difference!
4:45 hits and we make our way to the throng of people at the starting gate…10 shots deep. After 15 minutes of slurring, stumbling and ogling the dude in thon…I mean hot chicks…a man with a megaphone starts the countdown: 3,2,1…
BOOM!!! Two towers of flames shot up in the air to signify the start of the race.
The Race
The first part of the race was a nice, leisurely jog across a 100 yard field of green grass and happy dreams. For this leg of the race I felt fairly confident that the 3.1 miles wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve had to do in my life. After the field we turned a corner and…I’ve never actually sh*t a brick, but upon looking at this hill…I crapped a whole patio.
The whole first mile of the Warrior Dash was uphill. Not just uphill, but the angle was like that of the mountain the yodeler has to go up on Price Is Right. It was like they carved the angle out of Hitler’s arm when he gave the Nazi salute it was so evil. To use Oregon Trail terms I went at a grueling pace for 30 yards, a strenuous pace for 50, a steady pace for 75 and then got typhoid and dysentery for the remainder of the race.
After about a half mile of hills we met our first obstacle which was a simple climb a wall, duck under barbed wire thing. I did that without ripping my short jean shorts so that was a win in my book. Our reward for completing the first obstacle…another Hitler Hill. Yeay!
Here marks where I noticed a person in particular that would be around a couple of times throughout the race: Fat William Wallace. It was a guy in full Scottish garb carrying around 275 lbs. in excess carbs. He was my nemesis. The one man I didn’t need to see because it just made me feel worse about my physical condition that he, Mel Gibson’s stunt double at the buffet table, was gonna beat me…I might as well start buying industrial size bottles of lotion because no girl was ever gonna find me attractive again.
At the end of this Hitler Hill was a refreshing dip in waist deep water. I fought so hard to not pee in this water because I didn’t wee before the race and since I was already covered in murky, smelly water no one would be the wiser. However I didn’t because I figured 53 other people had already done it and I didn’t want to be the one guy to do it and have the person behind me make a big deal about how I made their water 20 degrees warmer for some reason. The big perk of this level was a photo that showcased my body in all of its beauty. Have a gander and a quick note…it’s not what you think:
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Ok so after fearing the copyright crap they said here’s what to do to see my picture: click on this link to go to the event, type Bryan Fraker in the name, select me and view either picture. Stupid businesses wanting to make stupid profit.
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Rounding that corner we came upon broken down cars and tire obstacles. You would clear a busted up car and after you land you have to go through the tire obstacle like during football training. Being the cool guy I am I thought it would be a great idea to do the Dukes of Hazzard the first car. I leapt off the ground, landed on the car and…almost busted my ass because I was wet and unable to slide. The other thing I did that I thought was hilarious was upon entering a beat-up, rusted out pick-up’s front seat I quipped “Oh…so this is where my parent’s conceived me.” Nobody laughed. Probably because it sounded like “(heavy panting) So…thsitheiwtwhmyprenatscoeawgewnme!” No wonder people looked at me like I just had a stroke.
Finally after the cars we got to the halfway point. We were given ice cold water that hit the spot…when I could reach my mouth. I ended up just thrusting the cup upward, getting a few drops in my mouth with the rest of it landing firmly on my chest. So with my thirst slightly curbed and my nipples becoming NMD’s (Nipples of Mass Destruction) I lurched forward around a tree to find…yet another mother f^$&@ing hill.
Passing this Hitler Hill was no small task. I needed to stop a couple of times to catch my breath and not, um, water the course with patches of blue and red-vodka smelling bile. All the while I was getting encouragement from Dan and his bro which was a great gesture, but at the time I would have swung at them had I not been so certain I would have fallen down, landed on my face and been squashed by Fat William Wallace (who passed me.)
At the top of Hitler Hill number NINE!…I mean four, was a series of bungee cords tied up in such a way that you would have to either duck or climb over them…at least that’s what they wanted you to do. What’s the fastest way to get from point A to point B, class? That’s right…you plow right through everything. I just lifted them up over my head until I got through the obstacle. This was the only obstacle where I felt I had won…by completely ignoring the rules.
A little bit further along the path and we came upon what was described to us before the race as a “wind tunnel”. When someone says “wind tunnel” you expect to be running through some industrial fans that try their best to knock you on your ass as you attempt to go through. I got excited for this obstacle because of two things: 1. I would fall on my ass and laugh hysterically or 2. A hot girl’s top would fly off. Either way I would get excited. However when we got here it was:
A shanty-town tunnel made of plywood and tarp that was three feet off the ground. Disappointing.
“Wind tunnel” my ass. They should have called it the “break wind tunnel” because you had two lines of single file people on their hands and knees crawling through what I hoped was mud to get through. If you would have farted in the tunnel you would have made life a living hell for the six people behind you. I’m pretty sure the person directly behind you would have had their skin burn off from the close proximity to methane and being eye level with the expulsion zone.
After saying a little prayer thanking God no one farted we got up and moved along, but not before I saw another person who I should be beating: a female Supreme Court Justice in full-robe with a gavel. How the hell is Sandra Day O’Connor beating me? The Supreme Court is full of people whose combined age is somewhere between 890 and 3,468 years old. These people survived the Civil War, had beer with William Shakespeare and got to bare-knuckle box a sabertooth tiger…how’s she beating me?!?!?!?
While I was mulling over if kneecapping a Supreme Court justice to beat her in a race is a felony some dude whooshed right past us with the biggest white-man fro I had ever seen. He had to have been the leader of the wave of people that started after us. Great…I got lapped by Art Garfunkel’s son. I’m on a roll!
With my body image reaching an all-time low and my lungs and heart giving me the finger we reached the first of many rapid fire obstacles in a row…the vertical cargo net. Now this cargo net was right where the starting gate is for every heat to start at so people were able to see you and shout/boo/laugh at whatever you did. I had seen this thing happen a million times on American Gladiators and if those still in shape former athletes could do it then by God this out of shape semi-professional beer drinker could give it his best half-assed effort.
I got up to the top, looked down and realized that being tipsy and 25 feet above the ground with no safety net equals a sh*tting-your-pants moment. Luckily my pants were already brown and that gave me the confidence that I could repel down safely. Next up was a balance test. You know those dog show steps they have to climb up and down to succeed in their obstacle course? They had a human version of that. It was really easy and involved less fur and butt licking.
Step three in this obstacle gauntlet was the horizontal cargo net. For most people this involved careful timing and slow, methodical crawling along the ropes. For me it involved a big leap forward into the netting at each stage and hoping the momentum carries me forward and I only land on five people at a time. The strategy worked and only 13 people suffered massive head trauma from my exhausted and sweaty ass. New record!
The next obstacle was a brief walk through waist-deep water and after fighting the urge to pee again we were only three obstacles away from finishing. First was the wall. You had to climb it like in those Army commercials, but these were easier because there were wooden footholds every three feet up so even Verne Troyer could do it in under eight hours. After that piece of cake it was just a short turn of the corner and two obstacles away from freedom!
The last two obstacles were right next to the main grounds for the Warrior Dash. There were people standing there watching you jump over two piles of Duraflame logs on fire and army crawling through mud under barbed wire to the finish line. Naturally I wanted to have a grand finale that would make people cheer, buy me beer and cause women to blow me kisses all the way to the end. Plus there were two cameras stationed after the logs to get our picture taken and put on their website. After situating everything and figuring out what I wanted to do…it was go time!
I sprinted (ok…it was a light job that looked like slow motion) around the corner, hopped the two flames like Carl Lewis (ok…it was more like John Madden hopping over the fruit platter to reach Turducken) and upon landing I was ready…I ripped my shirt just like Hulk Hogan and it split perfectly down the middle. I remember hearing people say “take it off!” and after I ripped it I expected to hear a loud cheer, but I’m sure all that was heard was an awed hush and a couple of people vomiting. Eh…it’s their problem they can’t stomach this much sexiness, not mine.
After I ripped my shirt I dove in the mud feet first, got it all in my ears and slowly crawled to the finish. Here’s a picture of Dan and I finishing. I’m on the left. Just notice the difference in emotion upon finishing. Dan: full of energy still and dancing past the line. Me: no energy at all and heavy breathing while thinking if I could give $20 to someone to piggyback me to the car.
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Ok same deal here as before: click here, type Dan Ensign in the name, click on him and look at the pictures on the bottom right of us finishing. Then look at the other ones. He is quite the nimble and graceful body, isn’t he?
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Once we passed the finish line we were given necklaces saying we survived the 2011 Warrior Dash. I will cherish this thing forever. I’m gonna get married, conceive my children, watch them being born, divorced and buried in this thing.
Upon finishing I just wanted my bed. Our time was 54:50.85 minutes making us 8,674th out of 9,841 people from Saturday. Turns out Fat William Wallace and Sandra Day O’Connor both beat me. Just throw that on the pile of achievements Bryan Fraker has that he’s not ecstatic about along with getting his first kiss at 16 and peeing himself during a baseball game when he was 10.
We trudged our way to the beer tent for the free brew Dan told me about, but I ended up giving my beer away because I couldn’t drink it. If you know me you know one thing is certain: if I ever turn down a free beer something is wrong with me. We ended up saying our good byes to people we knew and made our way to the car.
The ride home involved a battle between me and my eye lids to stay awake (I won by decision). We went back to my apartment, showered and went to Champ’s for dinner where I turned down yet another free beer. After dinner we went back home and I went straight to bed for 11 hours of the deepest, most fulfilling sleep I’ve ever gotten that didn’t follow, um…whoopie.
All in all am I glad I did the Warrior Dash? Hell yeah I am. I ended up scoring an Ohio State dog dish, finding out Gatorade and flavored vodka is a great combo, finishing a 3.1 mile race I had no business running and somehow getting a picture that’s priceless. We asked the girls to look at me as I was suntanning and act disgusted. Here’s what ended up happening:
Would I do the Warrior Dash again? My first thought is “Hell no! There’s no chance in hell I want to put myself through that again, but then I just look at this picture:
Sign me up.
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Here are a two more pictures of the Dash:
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