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MuckTales

I think somewhere in the scriptures it says, “He who is not dirty let him become as a little piggy.” No? Well, I’m sure it’s going to make the next edition.

Jason and I did the Dirty last week with Abigail, Jeremy Rowley, my brother Drew, and his wife Simone. The Dirty Dish is a filth fest for runners. It’s really more about freeing yourself from acceptable hygiene practices than getting exercise. As you slosh your way through a 5 or 10K, whichever you’re tough enough for, you’ll find yourself in slimy pits, on top of muddy ramparts, or in the midst of a stinky lake.

I made duck feet and feathery tails for me and Jason. They went from pristinely clean to filthy in just five minutes.

Most members of our team were Dash veterans so they knew what we were in for. We expected muck in places where the sun don’t shine and being worn out beyond reckoning. We were surprised by one thing though: this year’s obstacles were a lot wetter. The water to dirt ratio was significantly higher than last time; there was less soggy soil and more pools of filth. We were in one of the first groups out the chute so the temps up in Soldier Hollow were still in the 40s and all those puddles were awfully cold. Most of us had numb hands and arms after our first dip but we kept moving to discourage our chilled extremities from giving ideas to the rest of our bodies.

You had to either go over or under these pipes. Under was a guaranteed mess but over was more precarious.
The slop ‘n slide was sloppier this year, so naturally more fun.

Another change for me from last year was the condition of my ankle. Tearing my tendon 3 months ago meant that this time I had to contend with a testy foot. Thanks to my injury I couldn’t just jump into the murky depths, I had to carefully navigate my way through them so as not to damage my tendon any further. That caution and instability made me feel infinitely weaker, a bit like an old lady, a curious state for an unabashed mud seeker. But even with all that extra care my ankle was still pretty aggravated with me after the run. I guess there’s just no pleasing some tendons.

Simone bypassed quite a few obstacles so she didn’t look like she had fallen into the vat of Hershey’s extra chunky chocolate that had swallowed the rest of us.
Jeremy, Drew, and Jason were giggly with delight throwing globs of mud at each other.

This year we continued our juvenile costuming tradition by naming our team MuckTales and dressing like ducks. Yes, MuckTales is a play on DuckTales, that Disney cartoon you watched incessantly when you were a kid. Jason and I came as two of the triplets. I believe we were Dewey and Louie but don’t quote me on that. However, you can quote me on this universal truth: sopping sweatpants make running really uncomfortable. The white sweatpants Jason and I wore to represent our duck feathers were a very bad idea. They absorbed all that muddy liquid like sponges and we came out of each trench about 15 pounds of gross sludge heavier. You don’t know chaffing until you’ve sprinted while sporting gritty dripping sweatpants. Although most of the other participants didn’t seem to recognize our characters, everyone caught on that we were ducks except for a delirious couple that thought we were piggies for some reason. (The feathers and beaks didn’t clue you in?) I guess with all our layers of goo we probably looked more like sewer treatment pond scrapings than anything else.

Our group, with the exception of Simone, looked like we had been dredged up from the bottom of a bog by the time we crossed the finish line.

We had a lovely grubby time running the Dirty Dash again. It was a bit chilly and I think our whole group was still cold hours later from that foul freezing water but it was all worth it for the chance to completely put aside cleanliness and see Jeremy get hit in his open mouth with a mud bomb. I will long treasure my mucky memories and the grime I keep digging out of my toenails. Dirt and fond recollections are the gifts that just keep on giving.

Rachel October 2, 2012 No Comments

The Con is on!

It’s back! Just when you thought that gaming could get no geekier Rowley Con strikes again.

Our friends, Jeremy and Amber, recently hosted their second annual Rowley Con: a weekend of gaming and geeky debauchery. Their house overflowed once more with nerds bent on becoming the Supreme Geekolator. This year’s battles for dominance came in the form of Hoard, Dance Central, Agricola, Space Truckers, and Twister. Each category had its own winner and then an uber nerd was selected based off overall scores. I am proud to proclaim that this year’s geekalo was my own skilled hubby. Yes, Jason ruled the other nerds with a level 10 ironclad fist! Okay, technically he tied for first place with our friend Adam but, through a series of tiebreaker tests, he proved himself the rightful champ.

My attempt to look supremely tough as Supergrirl here somehow just made me look super ornery. Superheroes are allowed to give crusties too, right?
People seemed to leave their children to their own devices through most of the Con, which of course led to raging chaos. But the kids did settle temporarily on the couch Saturday afternoon to watch the Muppets and eat suckers.

Various other contests were going on simultaneously throughout the weekend making it impossible to take part in everything. Our friend Lee contributed to the Con with old school Nintendo 8-bit game competitions: Donkey Kong, Pac-Man, Galaga, and Tetris. These were popular with both the little kids and the once-little kids. Amber also set up a cute table specifically for Phase 10 challenges but, sadly, I never got a chance to phase-in.

Jason fittingly sped around in his Flash outfit flashing as many people with his bursting tights as possible.
I may have forgotten to put on the mask but my Batgirl outfit still made me super tough. I literally broke our metal sliding door handle in half with my overpowering strength just minutes after donning this costume.

The costume contest provided yet another means of demonstrating one’s shameless geekery. I would have dressed up whether there was a prize involved or not, I’m just that nerdy, but the prospect of geeky glory certainly added to my motivation. This year Jason and I decided to disguise ourselves as the super duper. We both came up with two different superhero costumes so we had unique iconic eveningwear each night. I made me a Batgirl costume and upgraded the Supergirl outfit I sewed a few months ago for our polar plunge by adding some additional pieces. My Batgirl costume was mostly the workings of my imagination, not any pattern, so I was happy that my creativity didn’t end up upside-down or inside-out. Yeah! But, alas, I did forget to wear my bat mask to the Con, which ruined the secret part of my secret identity. As for Jason, his package seems to have become an integral part of the Rowley Con package. He, with some of my encouragement, decided, once again, that a pair of super panties was perfect attire for this affair. He flashed us speedily and readily in his Flash Underoos on Friday night. At least his Captain America outfit, Saturday’s costume, was adequately covering and didn’t reveal any mysterious bulges. Bulges notwithstanding, apparently no one can resist a brazen man in leggings because Jason and I owned the costume contest once again.

The dark recesses of the basement appropriately became home to the Dungeon Master.
The last part of Jason and Adam’s tiebreaker test was a finger sword fight wherein Jason finally claimed victory with a plunge of his index finger.
Jason’s Captain America outfit covered all of his bits properly but, strangely enough, everyone seemed to miss his red tights.

Dungeon masters, gold hoarders, dot munchers, sheep breeders, and alien garbage gatherers: they were all represented at the Con. Practically anyone, except sufferers of chronic too cool syndrome, could find something to please their inner gamer at this event.

Who can resist the tighted superhero?
Jason’s costume contest prize was a latex horse mask, which he promptly convinced Jacob to prance around in.

Many thanks to the Rowleys for graciously hosting this fest. We came, we played, our children trashed your house. It was good geeky fun and perhaps, if Jeremy’s dearest wishes come true, we will do it all again next year.

Rachel April 19, 2012 3 Comments

My Secret Life as a Leprechaun

I discovered recently, after long holding beliefs to the contrary, that I am in fact part Irish. I’ve always enjoyed celebrating St. Patty’s Day, even when I wasn’t Irish, but now I can pompously claim that I’m just honoring my heritage when pinching greenless bystanders mercilessly.

‘Tis the wee feet of little lucky lads.

This year I decided to do something a wee bit special for my nieces and nephews to pay homage to The Emerald Isle. I sewed tiny drawstring bags out of appropriately festive fabric and filled them with chocolate coins. Then, when my family had their St. Patrick’s Day get-together, I arrived early to simulate a leprechaun visit with tiny footprints and a series of notes that led to the end of the rainbow. My leprechaun treasure hunt was a mystical success! Sadly, after all that work, not all of the kiddies were able to be present but the ones that were seemed to find it as magically delicious as I intended.

These bags may look super simple but without a pattern they took more ingenuity to make than you might think.

Seeing as I’m not quite short enough to be a leprechaun, I have vowed to give up my shamrock shenanigans for now. Who knows though, maybe next year I will break out the little feet and gold-laden cauldron again. After all, people have been telling me for years that I look elfish so maybe, considering my newfound Irish ancestry, my impish charades are only a wee stretch.

Rachel March 28, 2012 2 Comments
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