Da Fashionista.com

The Scene

So today I did the 5K San Diego Mud Run!!!!

I know, right? WHO AM I???

Backstory: Styleminded floated the idea a few months ago. Some friends of hers were signing up as a team. They are all young and hot and fun. Blah blah blah.

A mud run was nothing I had ever EVER considered doing. For a million reasons. I'm not the sporty monkey type. I might hurt myself. What if I couldn't finish?

But 2008 is about living not worrying. It's all about diving head first into my fears, right? So I promptly said “SIGN ME UP!” Why not?!?

I must admit that as soon as we signed up I promptly put it out of my head. Kept "forgetting" the date…on purpose. Styleminded would bring it up every so often but I was in total denial.

The denial turned to panic on Friday when Styleminded sent out final details. There was a link to the mud run's official site which I had avoided like the plague. Thought looking at it would make me chicken out.

This paragraph almost did - freaked me out to no end all weekend:

TIPS & SAFETY
_______________________________________
- Wear your grungy clothes and old sneakers, because more than likely they won't be going home with you.
- There will be a rinse off area and changing tents for participants.
- Bring a big trash bag, dry clothes and a towel
- Leave your jewelry at home
- Drink fluids before, during, and after your race
- Do not dive head first into the mud pit
- This is a fun run so help your neighbor if he or she needs help
- There will be medical staff along the course and finish line
- We are not responsible for your personal gear
- Do not let your children go in the mud unattended
- Wear a cool costume!

"Grungy clothes and old sneakers?" Um, yo no entiendo.

"Rinse off area?" I need a long shower with lots of lotions and potions and hair products after a run. Think I’ll need at least that after RUNNING IN MUD!!!!

"Clothes in a trash bag?" Ugh. I’m not homeless.

"Take off my jewelry?" But I’ll be naked without it!

"Drink fluids?" Ugh. OK, mom!

"Do not dive head first into the mud pit?" What kind of retards are we running with that would even ponder such foolhardy behavior???

"Help your neighbor if she needs help?" Um, that will be me needing help, thank you very much, neighbors!

"Medical staff?" Wah. I would totally be the one that gets taken away in an ambulance and ruin everything – after-school special style.

"Not responsible for my stuff?" Ugh. So I could be covered in mud and then not have any clothes to change into?? What kind of sham is this???

"Children in the mud unattended?" I repeat who are the tards doing this race??????

The last one “wear a cool costume” I get and I LOVE.

But this morning the denial that had turned to panic now turns to sheer terror. The only costumey piece I can manage is my sweet Miller Lite headband that I scored in Texas.

Head out to San Diego bright and early with Styleminded and Mr. Honorary Hot Chick. Another co-worker Teriyaki is meeting us there. Our team name is Dirty Sexy Money aka Ridin' Dirty. In the immortal words of Heidi Montag, Oh snap ;)

Love: How roadtrip conversations always meander and end in self-revelation. How beautiful the scenery is on a gorgeous So Cal day. How Styleminded is wearing tiny Target shorts and tennies she bought yesterday. How cute Mr. Honorary Hot Chick is with his new hair cut and that he wants to pick up disposable cameras.

Don’t love: How it’s going to be over 100 degrees during the race in April. How my friends tell me that other co-workers who barely talk to me said they could never picture me doing a mud run. UGH. What they know about me? How my ankles are creaky from yesterday’s gym session. And how today could conceivably result in a black eye and chipped tooth.

When we get to the mud run site, it’s a sea of people. About 3000. My eyes are like saucers taking it all in.

Most are fit, the rest are just normal. Most are in grungy clothes, some are in hilarious costumes.

I run into a girlfriend from USC (random!), we check in our clean clothes in plastic bags (oh the humanity!), we take some quick "before" photos, and we do a "yay team" cheer.



Then it’s race time. This is what the course looks like.

Four mud pits. One 500 ft incline. Some hay stacks to jump over. EEKS!! No turning back now.


As the countdown begins, I AM FREAKING OUT!!!!!!!!! And when I freak out I become a clown.

Mr. Honorary Hot Chick finds my terror hilarious and decides to be the little brother I never had (or wanted.) Proceeds to tease me the WHOLE race.





When we go through the water hoses at the beginning, he’s there snapping pics and laughing at our girly ways.






And when we go into the first mud pit...


He’s there snap snap snapping away as he cackles and happily swims around in the mud like a fishy.





The sensation of going into a mud pit ON PURPOSE is bananas. It weighs you down instantly. And it’s crazy slippery.







So obviously, I scream. I scream like the hot dainty old chick I am. I scream LOUDLY and REPEATEDLY. I scream so much that Styleminded forgets that she’s freaking out and dissolves in laughter.


However, I try to tone down the screaming because I realize I am expending unnecessary energy and still have 2 miles to go. Also pipe down because I am getting splashed by other runners struggling like prehistoric animals stuck in the La Brea Tar Pits. And since I fear mud flying into my mouth like nothing else, I try to keep my shrieks muffled.

At one point, Mr. Honorary Hot Chick is almost taken out by mud to the eye. Some young fit boys are at a medical station with huge blisters on their feet. One guy runs by in a pirate costume. Another one in speedos with swimming footsies. It's a blood bath. It's a comedy of errors. I take it all in, learning-nerdy-monkey style.


And I laugh my ass off most of the time.

The 500 ft hill is no joke though. I am not particularly winded when we reach it so I think it should be ok. However the easy dirt path suddenly becomes a 90 degree rock wall climbing situation.

I am TERRIBLE at climbing. Not a scramble monkey AT ALL. I always pick the rock to step on that isn’t a good idea. I am much better at being the reading-and-writing-and-joke-telling-monkey type.

But somehow I find my groove. Remind myself that I've been running 3 miles no problem for weeks. I push myself to get through the fear.

Make it down the hill in one piece only to hit another disorienting mud pit. Mr. HHC is feeling sassy and starts flinging mud at all of us. We are horrified. Haven’t we endured enough?

I tell the girls I am going to get him with a big mud pie. Splat. That'll shut him up.

He’s totally unsuspecting when I sneak up. At the last minute, I actually feel bad and opt to hit him in the chest. Decide to respect his pretty face.

Ugh. Bad idea. This creates a mud war situation. He gets me not once but TWICE with mud pies to each side of the face. NOT THE MOUTH, THANK GOD!!!! But close enough. Ugh. He is Mr. Diabolina’s new hero.


At the end of the race, Mr. HHC and I get about five minutes ahead of the girls. I am uber proud to be keeping up with his pace because (in case you’re blind) he’s very fit. He keeps encouraging me and saying he’s impressed. Yay. My little brother is a sweetheart.



A damn dirty ape who I still have to pay back. But a sweetheart.

The four of us link arms and cross the finish line. We come in like 52nd out of 75 teams. 55 minutes. Whatever we just did it for shits and giggles. Next year we do it for costumes and first place ;)




The aftermath is a little like Scream the movie. Hilarious but still a horror. We are caked in mud and have to wait in this long line to rinse off. The water is ice cold and hardly more than a cat piss trickle.

There are people everywhere watching you strip down. There are discarded shoes and t-shirts at every step. It's like a surreal post-Apocalyptic landscape.

All the while, Mr. HHC tells us we look very pretty. Ugh. I could kill him.



I eventually strip down to my bathing suit which ugh, is never pleasant. When we are all semi-clean, we pick up our plastic bags and change and head to the beach for a couple of hours.

Styleminded and I are matching in little halter dresses. ADORE!
Mr. HHC is burned. Bad. Pay back for mud flinging is a bitch ;)

Get home, have a glorious shower, hit Whole Foods where I see Lauren Conrad (she was TEENY, had the front part of her hair in one of those braids that I love and was wearing an easy white v neck with LIGHT jean skinnies!)

Go to bed early and proud of myself and loving my friends. But wishing Mr. Diabolina wasn’t away on business. Missing him already.

The Outfit
Nike white T
Nike biking shorts
Brown halter bathing suit

The Accessories
Adidas socks
Nike running shoes
Miller Lite headband

The Grade
A






The Commentary
I am super bummed we didn’t do matching funny costumes. Especially since Mr. HHC is ALL about them. Next time we know we can at the very least get funny T-shirts made.

I followed the Website's directions and wore workout clothes I could live without and wouldn't mind leaving behind. The Website also distinctly said to not wear cotton cuz that drags you down and no pockets cuz mud will get in them.

Figured the baggy white spandex top would show just how muddy I got for the pics AND reflect sunlight. The tight shorts are something I hardly ever wear anymore – being 30 and all - so that was easy.

Teriyaki had the same idea with her outfit. Great minds think alike ;)

The headband was also super helpful somehow. Not sure why but it was.

Wore shoes that I was ready to retire anyway. Now I get to buy the ones I’ve been wanting for a month. They will be my half marathon shoes. Maybe pick em up Thursday. YAY!!!

The brown bathing suit underneath was genius on my part. I essentially just took off the mud soaked tee and shorts, rinsed off and slipped on my purty color block Forever 21 halter dress. Voila.

I adore this dress. So hot. About two years ago, I saw it on this beautiful brunette on my street and hungrily asked her where she got it. When she said Forever 21, I almost collapsed. How had I missed it????

Searched and searched for it for weeks. Had given up on it when I popped into a Forever 21 affiliated store called Preference at The Paseo. There it was winking at me, waiting for me. Meant to be.



Bought it before I "blossomed" last year (read: gained a ton of weight.) So now the plunging neckline is quite the male headturner.

Ugh. Me no likes. I dress for me, other women, Mr. Diabolina and my gays. In that order. Straight men really don't factor in the equation.

Today’s sole faux paus were the sandals I brought for post-muddiness, my much beloved Stuart Weitzman gladiators. Should have brought cheapy flip flops as the whole post run area was covered in mud residue. Dumb dumb dumb of me. Tried to be super duper careful to not ruin one of my favorite pairs of shoes.

And that, my pretties, was what I wore on one of the funnest days in my 30 years on the planet. Thanks to Styleminded for organizing. She is my baby girl. I am going to miss giggling with her every day.



p.s. Who wants to sign up for the next one? I think I'm addicted!