The land of the free and the home of the brave. That’s what the world calls America. But in truth, it’s the land of the free because of the brave. Let that marinate for a moment.
Mmm that feels good, doesn’t it? Because of the brave. When we say, “brave,” we are, of course, referring to those courageous men and women across this great country of ours that risk their lives for the sake of freedom by participating in Tough Mudders, Warrior Dashes, and Spartan Races.
I’d like to quote the Bible, if I may…
John 15:13 Greater love hath no man that this: That a man participate in a Tough Mudder, Warrior Dash, or Spartan Race for his friends.
There are a lot of ignorant people out there that think running a military-style obstacle course requires you to have six-pack abs, be able to bench a couple hundred pounds, or have played organized sports at least once in your life, but that’s not what it’s about.
It’s about bending life over and taking it from behind without a condom or lubricant of any kind. It’s about proving to yourself and the world that you can run through several inches of mud, come within mere feet of fire, swim short distances without drowning, and crawl underneath barbed wire that would literally cut you if you stood up for some reason. It’s about showing your fucking dad that you can make it through a manmade trench filled with murky water, possibly even colored with dye to appear greenish, without being so grossed out that you puke all over yourself and cry like a schoolgirl. It’s about showing your high school gym coach that she was fucking wrong about you. You are a man, and you can do stuff. You can jump on stuff, maybe even throw some other stuff. Hell, you can even climb stuff.
Heroes don’t let petty excuses like genetic mediocrity, unhealthy eating habits, or a total lack of sexual appetite keep them from achieving greatness. Heroes look death in the face and say, “Not today.” No amount of laughably low-wattage electrical shock can stop you from posting pictures of yourself covered in mud on Facebook and Instagram, in effect proclaiming to the world that you are a survivor and one of the baddest motherfuckers walking the planet. What woman doesn’t desire a slice of the dick pizza you’ve got cooking in the oven when she sees your profile picture of you looking like a beast that just emerged from a swamp, hands lifted over your head in victory as you cross the finish line?
You’re not just part of the crowd, another mindless drone going about his day-to-day life, working for the man and taking shit from everyone because of your below average IQ, lack of muscle definition, and shameful work ethic. You’re a warrior. A Spartan. A tough mudder.
“What about CrossFitters?” you ask. “Are they too not heroes in their own right?” Allow me to construct an analogy.
CrossFitters are like the Marines of the world. Respectable, to be sure, but those brave few that participate in Tough Mudders, Warrior Dashes, and Spartan Races are like Navy SEALs. These are the most hardcore ass-kickers on the planet, not some Kipping pull-up doing wannabe “athletes” training in a warehouse with multiple cooling fans. These killing machines are outdoors in nature, swallowing flies and wallowing around in their own filth.
These are men and women that even “American Sniper” Chris Kyle would respect, God rest his soul. Sure, he has 160 confirmed kills, but did he ever complete an obstacle course allegedly designed by British Special Forces to embarass mildly obese Americans? I don’t know; I haven’t seen the movie. But I do know that if he was alive today, Chris Kyle would buy every one of those mud-covered sons of bitches a cold beer.
If you’ve survived a Tough Mudder, Warrior Dash, Spartan Race, or the like, you’re an American hero. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. .