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Tough Mudder became a popular racing event a few years back. All of the Joe Rogan fanboys and dudes with unkempt beards signed up in droves to run a few miles with their boys and complete obstacle courses entitled things like “Ape Shit” and “The Hangover.” How cool!
I watched from afar as close friends signed up for the event, and I would always politely decline their invitations, coming up with excuses like “I have to rearrange my sock drawer that day” and “I’d rather sew my head to the living room carpet than do that.”
It’s not that I was scared, really, I just saw right through the event as one of the dumbest things I could willingly spend sixty dollars on. Was the cultish, Jonestown vibe of your local Crossfit box (be sure to call it a box because it’s definitely not a gym) not enough for you?
After paying the entry fee, you get to crawl through barbed wire in a mud pit. A consent form must be signed prior to starting making sure that you know how serious this is.
Running through electrified wire in your compression shorts, a form fitting t shirt (or no shirt at all if you’re really tough) with a running number on it, and no shoes on because you lost them in the last obstacle courses muddy hole called “Skidmarked”?
Is this a fucking Bosnian war re-enactment or a race?
Couple the mud and possible electrocution with the fact that it all takes place at abandoned airports or anywhere else with large unused plots of land and you have yourself something of a hardo convention. I hate to use that term but it perfectly encapsulates the person that chooses to run a Tough Mudder.
It’s a meetup consisting entirely of people who, through years of niche workout regimens, are now unable to lift their arms entirely above their head or play any sort of normal sport with even intermediate success.
Weightlifters have always been the worst at real sports, and a majority of them are participants in Tough Mudder competitions. Faux athletes that can’t hold my jockstrap on a basketball or volleyball court.
Ask yourself what the point of doing a Tough Mudder is. Do you want an Instagram picture with your entire body caked in mud? Is it the free 12 oz cup of beer you get at the end of the race?
Can’t you just picture it? You finish the grueling 5k and accompanying obstacle courses and are met with one (1) free beer that you can hold while your awful girlfriend takes a million candid photos of you. “IPA’s for life, bro!”
If for some reason social media wasn’t the centerpiece of every situation we now choose to take part in, would you still participate in a Tough Mudder? Imagine if the creators of Tough Mudder made a rule saying you couldn’t take pictures after the race? Would you still do it? I’ll bet next months rent you wouldn’t.
This goes back to a point that I’ve made before. Why do people pay money to do this kind of thing? I once ran a 10k here in Chicago that cost me something like 100 bucks to participate in.
As I ran that race, I could only think of one thing: I could have just done this for free. But back to Tough Mudder. Take a jog outside. Go to your local gym and lift some weights. Fuck it, go sign up for Crossfit if you really want to.
I’ll continue to rip on those Crossfit sheep for as long they remain en vogue but I say this with the utmost sincerity: anything is better than saying you’re training for a Tough Mudder. What a bunch of jackasses.
There’s a very specific type of douchebag that signs up for Tough Mudders. I’ve got to think they’re big fans of MMA and probably Affliction tees. They think quoting Ron Swanson at parties is still funny and take Snapchats of themselves drinking bourbon with a bacon garnish because that’s just who they are. A real man’s man. An affinity for Florida-Georgia Line and late 2000s Eminem is also probably a prereq.
Listen, could I stand to ease up a little bit? Maybe. How about instead of bashing everything that I find silly, mundane, or moronic I just keep my mouth shut? I could turn that high powered roast hand right around and look inwardly. I have flaws. I have things that I could work on, sure.
I could write all day about that. But this my blog, and in my blogs and in my mind all of my opinions are correct and I’m the best at everything.
So to all of my detractors, enemies, and most importantly Tough Mudder participants all over this country, I only have one thing left to say: do less. Do way less. Now cue the motherfucking music..
Image via Youtube
Respond
jduda@grandex.co
Do you like anything besides shitty sandals and bottom tier breakfast options?
He is too cool and smart to like things.
This is an activity for real men. It’s no surprise that all of the pussies on this site avoid it in favor of playing Guitar Hero in their mom’s basement
If you run a tough mudder, but don’t upload pictures of the event to instagram, did you even run the tough mudder?
FIrst rule of Tough Mudder: you upload tons of photos of you at Tough Mudder.
Second rule of Tough Mudder: you upload TONS of photos of you at Tough Mudder.
“I play real sports, not trying to be the best at exercising.” – Comment you leave on a photo of someone doing a Tough Mudder
I did a tough mudder in Chicago
To show Twitter I was cool
And when It finally was over, I felt ten followers lower
But fuck it, it was something to do
I’m living out in Chi-town
I drive a sports car just to prove
I’m a real big baller ’cause I made 30K
And I spend it on Avocado Toast
But you don’t wanna be mudding like me
Never really knowing why like me
You don’t ever wanna step off that obstacle and be all alone
You don’t wanna do a tough mudder like this
Never knowing who’s who like this
You don’t wanna be stuck up on that obstacle singing
Stuck in all that mud singing
All I know is hashtags, hashtags
Darling, all I know are hashtags, and stories
I’m just a crossfitter who already blew his WOD
I get along with hipsters
‘Cause my name’s a reminder of a pop song people forgot
And I can’t keep a girl, no
‘Cause as soon as the sun comes up
I cut ’em all loose and Tough Mudders my excuse
But the truth is I can’t open up
This is delightfully awful. Very well done.
I feel so sorry for you. Not really, but just wanted to acknowledge your total patheticness
You and Kendrick Lamar should do a track together.
There’s a can of tuna with your name on it just waiting for your input
I hate crossfit and the tough mudder cults as much as the next guy, but if you’re still in your twenties or you aren’t married with kids, or have a job the requires you to travel every single week — and you’re not going to the gym to lift weights combined with some level of cardio at least 4 times a week before or after work, then I don’t have a lot of respect for those people. Trash people with trash dough bodies.
Seriously, leave regular maintaining-by-alcoholic-body weightlifting out of this, duda
TL;DR: I’m am a massive loser
Why don’t you stupid cubicle dwelling fucks stop beating off to Wonder Woman comics long enough to give us an edit button
Duda, any time you wanna volley some balls, hit me up. $20 says I rock your shit
I second that. Semi retired collegiate volleyball player here. Consider his shit rocked.
Where’d you play?
No One Cares State imo
Kindly eat a bag of dicks, sir
Guys, guys, guys. You’re losing sight of what’s important here: knocking Duda down a peg or two.
He’s absolutely right
It would be easier to fill your bathtub with mud, roll around in it then run around your house and scream at inanimate objects
And way more entertaining for the rest of us
We can’t quote Ron Swanson any more?
Spot fucking on
I just ran my first tough mudder per a friend’s recommendation. Waited 10 minutes at each obstacle because of the buildup of people. And many of the people were taking endless pics for social media. I will admit I took one as well
You and I will never be friends
So you jog a few hundred yards, stand around for 10 minutes, then climb up the sand mound / mud pit / whatever then jog another 200 yards and wait around for 10 minutes? Sound really tough…
I did this one time and one time only and never again because:
1. Its mostly Crossfit dbags trying out their “functional” fitness they pay $150 a month for.
2. The annoying groups of people that would pose to do pics, from the group of obviously low-key gay fitness guys who can’t come out because their wives and kids wouldn’t appreciate it or random group of girls who wear matching tutus with with compression outfit because they’re bffs or a bridal party or some other bs.