Two years after my first Muddy Buddy experience, I enlisted the help of the other Brian at work, and without any ‘Brian’-related puns for our team name, we took on the San Dimas Muddy Buddy this weekend as “Tuna Melts” – the entry form didn’t allow enough characters for me to add a “The” at the beginning.

From the start, the course was longer, hillier, and tougher than the Boston experience, but after it was over, we were glad we did it. Now, before it started, I wasn’t sure we’d even make it, as getting to the race and into the park where it was held proved more difficult than the race itself. We left LA in plenty of time, but traffic was at a total standstill at the offramp to the park, with hundreds of cars idling, waiting to pay the $8 parking fee (can you streamline that a little for next year?). Meanwhile, I’d realized that we were very nearly out of gas, somewhere on the white line below all of the red lines, and we weren’t going to survive, idling for another half hour. Brian jumped out with the bike and headed into the park while Aimee and I sped on to the next exit to find gas. Nobody in that part of Covina buys gas, apparently, as we had a little trouble finding a station, and we imagined Brian beginning the race on his own and waiting all day for me at the first obstacle. Luckily, we found gas down a random side street, got back in time, and found out they delayed the start of the race. I ran into position just as the national anthem was being sung, and aside from being a little winded, I was ready to go when the gun went off.

After it was over, and we had slogged on our bellies through the deep mud, we enjoyed a Red Hook in the beer garden while watching other teams, many in very elaborate costumes, crawl, slip, slide, and roll through the mud pit. A year is just long enough for you to forget how tough those uphills were and think about doing it again. Maybe…