September 25, 2013

No, you should NOT do Tough Mudder - an open letter to my husband

If you ever wanted a real peek into my marriage, well then here it is.  Fortunately I married an awesome (albeit fragile) guy who can dish it out and take it.  And yes, I know I'm sleeping on the couch tonight.

Dear Husband,

Lately your upcoming participation in Tough Mudder San Diego has been a hot topic in our home.  Personally, I find it adorable that you think this is a good idea.  Professionally, I can only begin to ponder the precious photos I could collect if I attend and capture your "Arctic Enema" moment.

As one of our good friends pointed out during dinner the other night, he imagines it will be so cold that it will be mostly arctic and very little enema.  I won't connect the dots any further, this is a family friendly site after all.

But let me try to see it from your perspective for a minute. I get it, all of your buddies have decided that this will be a bonding experience like no other.  I can totally relate.  I remember having similar feelings when I was 18 and dressed from head to toe in purple being forced to drink grain alcohol and create synchronized dances in the name of sisterhood.

Yes, I know that plenty of businessmen pay good money to have similarly torturous things done to them.  The legality of it is still a bit fuzzy to me, but the phrase red room of pain comes to mind.  At least Tough Mudder sounds manly, yo.

Do you recall the annual Father's Day tennis tournament last year where your mother and I had to help you hobble off the court mid-match?  That's right, it was tennis not tackle football.

In no way am I saying you're not an athlete because you are.  We only have wine glasses in our home that say "tennis champion" to remind me of this every time I indulge in a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.  That's right, I married a tennis champion.

I am all for you chasing your dreams and I'll always support you in whatever you choose to do.  I simply didn't realize your dreams included being electrocuted while running through vats of mud. In the cold.  With a bunch of dudes in spandex compression gear. Crazy.  I must have missed that somewhere between the first and third date we went on.

Also, I agree wholeheartedly - drinking a Redbull before heading out for a 10 mile race is an excellent substitute for endurance training.  After all, you were really whipping past those 5 year olds on the cargo net climb over at Sesame Place this weekend and I know you were just kidding when you mentioned how winded you were after it.

So I just want to let you know that after Tough Mudder, when you come home with unidentifiable injuries, hypothermia, and at least one condition requiring an MRI but a fantastic sense of comradery, I will still love you to bits.  But not if you wear that orange headband.

The Wifey

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