Pit crewing and photographing for my two team mates Tony and Mikey was an absolute honor. It was incredible to watch these two men voluntarily run through the night in order to achieve as many miles as possible in a mere 12 hours. Because I was attempted to capture the emotions of the race via photographs I felt there was a great importance for you to read the words of the athletes themselves. So first the words of Mikey:

I went into TM with the intention of learning about myself and wanted to see to what extent I can shut-off the inevitable self-negotiation that happens when things start to get tough, and this event’s format seemed perfect for this type of experiment. Although I did learn a ton about the mental game of running TM, the feelings I walked away with were infinitely more valuable.

At the beginning, I was constantly observing my pace, heartrate, and how my body was reacting, at the same time thinking and planning on how I should approach each pit stop, what nutrition to intake, what gear to change in or out to. Pass hour 6, I was so worn down physically and mentally, all those thinking and planning began to fade, I was pulled out of my head and forced be in the present, by then I was too tired to pay attention to anything other than the obstacle, the terrain, the night, the people; at that moment, I felt tremendous joy, joy of realizing, even if temporary, that I can be happy just to be able to do something as simple as run around in the dirt, climb some stuff here and there, and swim in a bath of ice water.

The feeling of gratitude also became stronger as the night went on, especially towards the friends that were with me on and off the course, the thought of seeing their familiar faces at the start/finish really helped me get through the last few laps, beyond the fact that without them taking care of me I probably would’ve stopped way earlier, I was just happy there were there and had this shared experience together.

All in all, TM was a good reminder that we’re all in this (whatever this is) together, so might as well have a blast, go all in, and enjoy the adventure.

And now for Tony:

Sitting on the edge of what looks like an army issue cot in the middle of the desert swaddled in the warmest blanket my pit crew could provide while I shiver uncontrollably in my waterlogged shoes and soaked wetsuit pants I’m confronted with one of my biggest fears. My feet are ruined. My left pinkie toe throbs from the now bleeding blister that formed to a size that was equal to or greater than that of my toe and then popped and is oozing inside my compression sock. My ankle on the same foot is swollen and bruises are beginning to form from the multiple times I just rolled and twisted it on terrain that must rival that of the surface of Mars. Hamstrings on both my legs are tight and feel like year old bubble gum left out in the sun. Both knees are red and bruised and my right one feels extra rough and grinds like beach sand.

The main injury though, well the main physical injury comes in the form of a softball sized calf knot on my right leg that has seized up making running nearly impossible. My calf feels as though it is going to burst out of my skin, and at the same time feels as though it is on fire. The pain resembles what it must feel like if someone were to take a hot razor blade and slice my leg open. It hurts. It all hurts, yet that isn’t the worst pain. That comes in the form of just four words, well three words and a contraction, that are on the tip of my tongue.

It’s now two something a.m. I scan our pit area looking for something to focus on to take my mind off of what I am about to say. There is nothing. It’s dark out, and my eyes are as dry as the Sahara yet still manages to muster up some water in my tear ducts. I look up to my coach, Justin Nucum owner and founder of my professional obstacle race team Hardkour Performance, and with a look that must have resemble that of an eight year old boy looking up to his mother as they take the family dog to the vet for one last visit I say, “I think I’m done.”

We are out in the Nevada desert in Henderson, just a short drive from the glitz and glam of the Las Vegas Strip for Toughest Mudder West, a twelve hour over night obstacle course race. Runners are challenged to do as many loops of a five-mile course as possible in the twelve-hour period. Myself along with my friend, teammate and best training partner Mikey Chen are here to compete with the hopes of qualifying as contenders for World’s Toughest Mudder. To do so we must complete eight laps for a total of forty miles. At the start while we were being pumped up by the inspiring words of Sean Corvelle, the foremost master of ceremonies for Tough Mudder, and soaking in the excitement and passion of our fellow mudders this goal seemed absolutely possible. Then as Mike Tyson said, “Everyone has a plan until you get punched in the face.” Plans changed and I got punched in the face.

The day started great, with our whole crew meeting up at my place in beautiful Rialto, CA. We packed up all our gear, a whole truck beds worth and then some, and then hit the road for a short 220-mile drive on the I-15. Making just a few stops, one of course at the best coffee joint ever, Klatch Coffee. That extra caffeine kick you know to get the blood flowing.

Driving up I tried to not focus on what was coming up in my future. At this point I have been doing Obstacle Course Racing (OCR) for seven years so not much really gets in my head before a race. I still get excited for sure, and of course still get anxious at the start line, but this next event was going to be different. I have a past with this venue, and as far as I was concerned I had a score to settle.

Backstory, two-years ago I competed in Worlds Toughest Mudder at this same desert Mars landscape location. It didn’t go so well. I was overwhelmed, beat up, bruised and discouraged so bad I wanted to quit OCR all together. I turned into such a raging bitch that I must have looked like one of those Snickers ads where the main person turns into Joe Pesci or something. It wasn’t pretty. Luckily my pit crew talked me down and I continued on to finish with 25 miles. I left feeling like I could have done more though.

Fast-forward back to 2019, and the start line for Toughest Mudder West. Mikey and I were pumped. Ready to get our feet out on that course and start heading towards 40 miles one step at a time. The weather was crisp with a slight breeze. With temps in the 60’s it felt like one of those summer nights you only dreamed about. The air was electrified by all the competitors chanting “OORAH!” as we took off on our twelve-hour journey into the darkness.

We started strong and fast. Mikey and I were step for step, so in synch you would think we were twins. I mean, if you’ve seen us we practically are. We threw down that first lap quick in just over 45 minutes. After a quick pit stop we were back out for our second lap.

The first lap is mostly just a trail run. Most of the obstacles are bypassed just giving runners a sense of the course layout. Lap two though, those obstacles are turned on and the real test begins. Nothing was stopping us though we cruised through that second lap as well not letting any obstacle slow us down, so far so good.

Nothing special on lap two, or no major update in our pit after the lap either. Put on a wetsuit jacket because the temp was dropping a little, and we were in and out of water a bunch. Grabbed some snacks, drank some water and back on out we went. Ten miles down and the future was looking good. Well, for a short period of time at least.

About quarter of the way into that third lap I started having some issues. See here’s the thing, I didn’t come into this race at 100% I may or may not have rolled both my ankles a few times a couple weeks prior at a Spartan Trail Race. I also may or may not have taken time off from training to let my body fully heal. Maybe…

Mikey is flying. He is still hammering away at a great pace, a pace I can no longer keep up with. So we decide to split up, for now. We said we would either meet up back at the pit, or somewhere out on course later. After a big bro hug Mikey takes off and his headlamp becomes a small flicker off in the distance. I slow down my pace and just walk for a bit. Trying to rest the ankles and the hips that now have started to get tight. After a short walk I am feeling good and motivated to catch up with my teammate so I pick the pace back up to a steady jog. I continue this pace for the majority of this lap until it is no longer sustainable. Not too long in the future the pace comes to screaming halt as if I ran straight into a wall. Well, it was something similar to that except I didn’t run into it, it was more of a run over it situation.

As I approach Berlin Walls, a ten-foot high wall, my right calf feels a little tight but I shrug it off cause I mean I just did 15 miles so it just to seem on par for me. I get over the wall no problem. Next up is Skidmarked, which is another high wall but tilted toward the runner’s direction and is typically also not a big issue for me. As jump up and grab the ledge of the wall everything changes. I lose all cabin pressure, but there is no oxygen bag for me to suckle on to make me as calm as a Hindu cow.

My right calf completely freezes up. It feels as though it is the size of a softball and made entirely out of stone. So, there I am, dangling from this slanted wall and all I think is, “Shit, I’m in trouble.” I do manage to get myself up and over the obstacle but as soon as I land my leg is just locked up. I mean it is in the perfect form if I were going to kick a field goal, but that is not the case. I hobble off to the side and frantically begging to massage my calf while uttering one or two expletives. Luckily, the muscle releases enough for me to continue on. It ain’t pretty but it’s at least moving.

I finish the lap and end up sitting on the army issue green cot awaiting what I hoped would not be the inevitable. So, there I am, 15 miles into what was supposed to be a 40-mile run and I’m out. My coach and pit crew assure me it is the best choice of action. My sister-in-law even tries to make me focus on the future to forget about the present and reminds me I have obligations to my pro team and there are lots of races left this year. An admirable attempt to gently coat my ego. Reminding me I am on a pro team, well played sis. Ego approved.

For some reason I was calm, almost as if I expected to let the course beat me once again. After a few hours of fighting the idea of going back out I give in. I change out of my wet clothes, put on my street clothes and retire to being pit crew my partner as he continues on. Then Mikey comes in to pit and looks broken too. He’s cold, tired and his body is sore. I start thinking that damn, this is it, we are both out. But nope, not the case. Mikey continues on. He doesn’t let any of those set back set him back. After an extended pit, he goes back out for his 30th mile. I am in awe.

After Mikey takes off the pit disperses a bit. A couple go off to a car to try and warm up and sleep. A couple more curled up with blankets at our site and begin to dose off. I huddle in our changing tent and lay down. As I lay there, starring at the same tent ceiling as I did back in 2017 at World’s Toughest Mudder it hits me. I am not okay with this. I left this venue two-years ago and felt like I could have done more. I could have given more. This has plagued me ever since. It has pushed me to work harder as well, and now here I am about to let this opportunity pass me by.

I stare past the tent’s alpine green sheen, my eyes glass over as they do when we daydream. My thoughts are filled with Vivian, a former student of mine who passed away earlier this year. She was a star, or well she was going to be a star. She was special, and I was lucky enough to have been her professor. Up until she passed, we would still message each other. Me checking up on her to see how she was feeling, and she would tell me how much she missed my class and was still inspired by me. Suddenly though in February she left, and I never got that chance to tell her thank you. This year of racing has been in memory of Vivian. Every race.

And now, now I’m ready to call it because I have a couple sore ankles and a tight calf. I do my best Uma Thurman impersonation as I look down at my feet and move my toes. They can move so why are they not moving. I glance out the tent and see my shirt sway in the wind back dropped by darkness and an illuminated obstacle way off in the distance. The next thing I say to myself is, “Fuck this.” I decide I’m going till I break or finish. I was so scared of getting a DNF that I was willing to settle, again. I realized that is not a good enough excuse. Vivian didn’t have that option.

I immediately think of another friend I lost a number of years back, Gabriel Acosta. I ran my very first Tough Mudder in his memory. We had a conversation once about my future and he said something that changed my life. “Finish strong, or don’t start.” I say that I live by this mantra now, and so it was time I do just that. If I wasn’t willing to go till I break, even if it means getting a DNF, then I shouldn’t be here in the first place.

That was it. I put one a fresh wetsuit and headed out. On my way to the start line I catch a quick glance with Sean Corvelle and he gives me the subtle head nod. As if he knew. This lit a fire in me. All of his start line motivational speeches I have heard from him in the last seven years came flooding in my conscience like a tsunami. From there it was one foot after the other. Jog when I could, walk when I needed too. Nothing was stopping me. The mission had changed, and I was not going to stop.

I come bulldozing into our pit sometime after 5am. Annaliese, fellow pro teammate and current pit crew member, stands there with her eyes as big as they can be with her mouth dropped almost the floor as she mouths, “What?” All I say is, “We’re Hardkour not softcore.” She then asks what I need and all I can say is that I don’t know cause I got to get back out as soon as possible. I need one more lap. Team coach Justin pops his head out from under the blanket he is using on the cot, rubs his eyes and he too says, “What?!” All I do is repeat myself, “We’re Hardkour, not softcore.” I don’t think I have ever seen him smile as big as he did in the very sleep deprived moment.

Its safe to say that on behalf of the entire Hardkour team we are so very proud of you Mikey and Tony!

#WEAREHARDKOUR

Written by Annaliese, Tony, & Mikey

Photos By Annaliese Allen