Sometimes you have to let your inner stupid out. Other times you need a good smack to the forehead, lodging him deep, deep inside.
That’s what I’m wrestling with as the little voice in my head keeps imploring me to let my inner stupid free.
Do I listen? Do I?
Ahhh!
It’s all thanks to a colleague. He approached me at a work picnic and asked if I wanted to partake in something life changing. Something liberating. Something I would never forget.
I thought he was referring to the hand-made potato chips on the buffet line, but apparently I don’t think “big” enough.
“A Tough Mudder!” he said.
I gasped. And recoiled.
“Keep your voice down!” I snapped at him. “My wife might be around. She hears us talking like this and WE’RE mud.”
But the inner stupid in me whispered: “Now … keep talking.”
A Tough Mudder. Ever heard of it?
It’s an endurance race with military-style obstacles. They’ve become popular in recent years because the average IQ is dropping precipitously. I blame reality TV.
The organization that puts these events on around the world bills them like this: a “hardcore 10-12 mile obstacle race — mud run events designed by British Special Forces to challenge the toughest of the tough.”
Requirements? Inner stupid.
I was intrigued. No idea why. Because I’m not tough, and I don’t like mud. Frankly, it sounds like a horrible idea. It has obstacles called “Fire in the Hole” — where you slide through a pit of fire — and “Arctic Enema” — where you swim through a giant ice bath.
Oh, and there’s an obstacle with electrified wires dangling down. Appealing!
I keep getting emails from my colleague asking if I’m in.
Sometimes he writes things that make me wonder if I should trust his advice (or recommend him for mental health counseling.) Like when I told him I needed to make sure my family would be OK if I didn’t survive.
He emailed: “Hey: I wouldn’t worry about dying too much. I mean none of us are getting out of this thing alive anyway right? No wait I didn’t mean the Tough Mudder. I mean life in general …”
There — right there! — that’s one of those moments when you shut the door. You got the cosmic answer you’ve been looking for. Get the mud out! Appropriate response should have been: “Restraining order is in the mail!”
But not me. I’m still thinking about it. I’m still considering it. Researching it. Studying what kinds of obstacles are on the course. How I might train. What kind of beer they give you at the end of the race. You know, important questions.
Most of all, whether it’s time to let inner stupid run wild. It’s been a while since he’s seen the light of day. Maybe a little mud will lodge him back in for a while.
Have you done a Tough Mudder? I would love to hear from you. Especially if you survived. Drop me a line at brianlthompson@bellsouth.net.