Tough Mudder is all in your head

Here’s something that took me a while to figure out: Tough Mudder was, for me, about 75% mental. Yes, the hills were a lot of work. And some of the obstacles were physically challenging if not impossible for me at my level of ability, like Hangin’ Tough and Funky Monkey.

But a lot of the other obstacles, when you step back and look at them, aren’t that grueling. Jumping into a pool of (not ice cold) water? Crawling through a tunnel? Going into the event, I thought they were just things to slow you down, and almost provide a break from the running.

And they were, for some people. But for others, who maybe have some fears or hangups about enclosed spaces, heights, or the unknown, they were the hardest parts of the course.

Here’s the thing: willpower is like a battery. Numerous studies have shown that we only have so much self discipline, and the more we use up, the less we have for later in the day. These studies have fascinated me for a while, and they usually involve having someone do tough math problems or keep their hands submerged in ice water, and then choose either a plate of cookies or fruit (harder problems lead to more cookie choices.)

Basically, if we use our willpower on task A, we won’t have much left for task B. Some theorize that we can mitigate this by taking regular breaks, so 50 minutes of work followed by 10 minutes of “active recovery” will yield better results than just pushing straight through consecutive hours.

In Tough Mudder, you’re looking at several hours of stress in a row, with no real breaks (you can stop for a rest, but there’s not much escaping this environment.) Under these conditions, willpower depletion can be massive, and that’s where the obstacles come in.

For me, I had to “work” hardest to simply start the Mud Mile and Walk the Plank. I’m still not sure why Mud Mile was so hard; probably I just didn’t think that I was going to make the leap across the first chasm (ours didn’t have that much mud to walk through; it was more about leaping deep and wide ditches.) Walk the Plank is a more obvious fear. Looking 12 feet down (17 if you include body height) can be intimidating!

So whether you’re jumping from a high height into muddy, possibly freezing water, facing fear of heights…

Tough Mudder - Walk the Plank

Or slithering through an underground tunnel that’s barely wide enough for your shoulders, facing claustrophobia…

Tough Mudder Trench Warfare

Or just launching yourself into the world’s craziest slip & slide, facing fear of losing control…

Tough Mudder Greased Lightning

(and don’t get me started about the electric shocks!)

Under the exhausting conditions of Tough Mudder, these actions can be incredibly daunting, and there’s no way to adequately explain it to Bob from accounting the following week.

The trick, really, is to embrace your inner four year old and remind yourself constantly to have fun. Because it’s tons of fun, and you’ll realize it when you’re through it but getting to the end is so much easier if you keep that in mind from the very first step.

Tying this back to my upcoming marathon, I’m lucky that I only have to do one activity, albeit for a very long time. My concern is that my willpower will erode over the course of the race, and each step will be harder to take than the one before it. I don’t have a solution to that yet, but I’m thinking a lot about the mindset I’m going to want to adopt for each quarter of the race. “Have fun” will probably enter some of it, but I still need to come up with some kind of “make it no harder than it has to be” system. Fingers crossed!

Photo Credit: Gareth Ledger

Tough Mudder Everest (video and tips)

I’ve spent a week procrastinating on an overview of Tough Mudder Toronto 2012, but I think the overall concept of what we did is still too big for my tiny little brain. So here’s some footage of Everest, in which one climbs up a giant quarter-pipe:

This was the second last obstacle of the day, and we’d been climbing Mount St. Louis Moonstone’s hills for something like 14 km before that, so my biggest worry was that I wouldn’t have the legs to make the climb.  I remember going into it trying to figure out how many attempts I was going to make before giving up and walking around it.

But I did it in one.  Here’s some of how that happened:

Use the help available to you. See all those people at the top with their hands reaching down?  They’re there for you.  Sure, aim for the top ledge, but be ready to grab a helping hand.  For some of us, accepting help is the hardest obstacle to overcome, so this is a great opportunity.

Pick ONE hand. There aren’t too many misses in the video, but a lot of the ones I saw seemed to be people without a clear plan going up.  When they reach the moment where they know they aren’t going to make it, a quick decision has to be made among the many hands that are in reach, and quick decisions are not easy after a long day.  I think a lot of people tried to grab three hands at once instead of just one.  I had mine picked out before I started my approach, and I pointed to him just to be clear, both to me and to him.  It was my teammate, but it could have just as easily been someone else.  Oh, and as long as you’re picking, choose someone with long arms.

Go fast.  High school physics time: your job on this obstacle is to convert kinetic energy to potential energy as you go up the ramp.  You’re not going to get much additional acceleration one you start your climb, so bank as much speed as you can and try not to lose too much as the ramp gets steep.  And it gets steep really fast – it’s not a gentle slope by any means.

Don’t let go until you’re secure.  When I did Everest, I thought I my hand grab was almost a high five and I grabbed the ledge at the same time.  The footage shows that I was a mile from the top.  Perceptions get messed up on an obstacle like this, so make sure you’re locked onto the top before you let go of the hand that helped you, or you’re going to slide back down.  I saw it happen, and I doubt that it was by people who were having so much fun they just wanted to do it again (though it was plenty fun.)

Fun follow up: fresh from our victory on Everest, we all knew we had just a mile or so left to trot out before the electric shocks and the finish line, and we all felt pretty good about ourselves.  Plus we were at the bottom of the hill!  Smiling confidently, we turned the corner, and saw another uphill.  There were a few swears at that point… (See the first “near-breaking point” story here for back up)