Warrior Dash '18

What's up, America.

So last year, my brother Chris and I ran the annual Warrior Dash, held down in Mt. Morris.  If you'll recall, this is more or less a glorified 5K, with a dozen obstacles sprinkled throughout the course, which runs through sand and forest, grassy flatland and mud pits.  At the end of the course, when you emerge from the pools of mud, covered in sweat and filth, you're awarded a medal, a fuzzy Viking helmet, a free t-shirt, and a complimentary drink.

. . . 'cause who doesn't like throwing back a cold, alcoholic drink after an entire afternoon of arduous turmoil under an oppressive sun?

Well, last year, shortly after we ran it, we decided that it'd be a lot of fun if our wives ran alongside us.  Nicole would have done so last year, but she was, well, growing two miniature human beings inside her at the time.  I managed to convince Kris that she should run it with us, and so all four of us pre-registered for the 2018 race last summer.

Fast forward a year - a year in which none of the four of us managed to get in shape, or train in any way whatsoever.  No, instead, Chris and Nicole had been pretty sedentary, shackled with two kids.  Kris spent five days of each week over the course of the last year sitting in an office chair in front of a computer.

Damn it feels good to be a gangster.

And me?  Well, I went ahead and broke my foot.

This year, unsurprisingly, was pretty rough.  Running on a broken foot isn't cool at all, and it was pretty painful.  Kris nearly passed out after the first mile - the sun was intense, and running without shade in the mid-80s through sand isn't as fun as you'd think.  Chris' shoes were rubbing him raw behind his ankles, to the point where they were bleeding.  Honestly, the one person who held up the most happened to be the same person who had carried and delivered a set of twins.

Still, we had a blast.  It was a rough go, but was definitely a highlight of the summer.  I think it can go without saying that we'll be running the sum'bitch next year, in the Summer of 2019.  Maybe we'll even train this time around so we can save ourselves some of the physical exhaustion. . .

. . . .buuuuut, who am I kidding.  We probably won't.

Here, check it out:

A screen shot of the following video, from MLive's article on this year's Warrior Dash (you can see Kris at right, with Yours Truly coming up behind her.)

(You can spot us at the 1:36 point.)

This is the Pallet Jacked obstacle, which I revisited here because you can see me at the 0:31 point, awkwardly attempting to cross those plastic platforms of death. . .

Approaching the fire obstacle (forget what it's called), towards the end of the race.  We didn't run into many photographers along the course, like we did last year, but they always have one camped in front of this one. . .

Kris makes some pretty rad faces when she's feeling 'hardcore.'

Hard.  Core.

We actually jumped over slightly ahead of Chris and Nicole, so Chris took both images from the Warrior Dash website and photoshopped it so it looks like we went over at the same time.

Kris sticks the landing.  You can see, at left, my broken foot.  By this point in time, it felt like it was about to fall off.

Yes, that's Iron Man walking behind Nicole.

Once we cleared the fire obstacle, we had to climb a wall and then slide down the other side.  For whatever reason, they didn't have a pool of water waiting for us at the bottom of the slide this year, just a pile of dry-ass dirt.  It sucked, as we were kinda looking forward to being cooled off again - the heat was ridiculous.  (That's my arm off to the right, fans.)

After crawling under the barbed wire, through a giant pit of mud, we crossed the Finish Line and were handed our medals.  Kris asked a stranger to take a picture of us and text it to her, and - thank God - the lady wasn't a complete b**** and followed through.

Post-Showers, we opted to snag one more group picture in front of the big ol' Warrior Dash rock, like Chris and I did last year.

The race had a few different sponsors - nothing new, there - and among them was White Claw, which makes fruit-flavored spritzer drinks that have a 5% abv.  Not my cup of tea - tastes like slightly-flavored club soda with a hint of booze in it - but Kris (and every female in the United States, apparently) loves them.  The girl working the booth, who was, like, 21, didn't mind giving out an endless supply of samples to Kris, who promptly took advantage of her generosity.

She soon started sending us out to pick some up for her.  I suppose she earned it.

Awwww.  Wives take the cutesiest pictures. . .

- Brian

Eight Point Lake '18, Pt. II

(contd.)

Friday

July 20th
"The Third Bri(y)an."

Another pleasant morning breaks over Eight Point Lake. . .

My claimed coffee mug for the week.  I've been using this baby for years.

I had enjoyed a cup of coffee (or three) and gotten to watch an episode of a historical documentary all to myself before anyone else woke up.  Eventually, I decided to take Watson for a two-mile walk around part of the lake.  As I was leaving, Dad and Cindy asked if I'd take Bailey around as well, which was no big deal.  It took me a few minutes to figure out why each dog was pulling in opposite directions, fanning out ahead of me as we walked along the road:  Bailey was trained to walk on the left, next to my dad, while Watson was trained to walk on my right, along the edge of the sidewalk or road.  Watson would pull into the middle of the street as we walked along the left-side of the road, because he naturally wanted to walk along the right-side of the road.  Once I self-corrected and we assumed our usual orientation, Bailey was cool walking directly on my left, and Watson walked normal as usual.  Dogs are weird.

About an hour or so later, I returned with two exhausted dogs and saw menacing clouds begin to roll in.  For the rest of the day, we'd go back and forth between sunny weather and rain.

One worn-out dog and his owners.

The Defender, ever vigilantly standing guard.

Someone had bought Jax one of those cheap plastic parachute dudes at a party store, so the kids all took turns throwing that thing up in the air out back for awhile.  By 'awhile,' I mean four minutes - that's how long it took before the damn thing broke.

Yet another photobomb.  Too bad one can't make a career out of that.

Another lazy morning at the cottage. . .

RAIN.

Stuck inside, Nana baked up some more mini-muffins for the kids (they tear through those things like Sherman to the Sea.)

An hour or so later, there was a short break in the shitty weather, so the womenfolk took the girls and Jax out for a brief stint around the block to walk the dogs and stretch their legs (the kids were starting to get Cabin Fever.)

I don't think Jax is too happy his mom commandeered his ride. . .

The Cannonball, double-fisting it.

Portrait of some random handsome guy, courtesy of one of my kids.

After lunch, the rain let up and the sun came back out, but it was incredibly windy out.  I tried to take the girls out for a boat ride, but. . . well, it didn't go too well. 

Playing around in Uncle Brian's boat.

Kris and her damn selfies. . .

Later on in the afternoon, with the weather still holding somewhat, Brian, Jill and Kris took the girls and Jax out for a quick tubing venture. . .

Abby has grown fearless.

Back on dry land, time for more Apples to Apples.

A decent day-time beer, courtesy of Kalamazoo's own Arcadia.

Bryan and his girlfriend, Chelsey, had arrived, and it wasn't long before Bryan - being a former chef - was put to good use in the kitchen. . .

On today's menu:  Beer Can Chicken.

Abby, bein' Abby.

The highlight of the day - for me, at any rate - was the disaster that befell my poor left pinky toe.  As I was walking through the living room, my toe snagged the edge of the couch with so much force that it ripped it sideways.  It was like a stubbed toe on steroids, and it dropped me to the floor instantly.  While the majority of my family thought, at the time, that I was exaggerating things, at least Bailey felt my monumental pain (using dog sense, I guess.)

Bryan and Chelsey, coming back in to dock after taking the red boat out for a spin around the lake.

Still couch-ridden, feeling like a real sack o' buttholes.

Fortnite.  Still.

Abby created her own lounge area at one point.  Wasn't too much else to do while it was raining outside.

Going out on a boat ride with Uncle Bryan, during another decent spell of non-rain.

Second generation of womenfolk, hanging out and not doing anything productive at all.

Dead birds, ready for consumption.

More down time in the cottage.  For all it's lake-related attractions, when it rains up here, life grinds to a halt.

No idea what she's up to, here.

Following dinner and a drizzly, windy evening, we adults decided to have ourselves a kid-free pleasure cruise, leaving Dad and Cindy with all their horrible, horrible grandchildren.  I had purchased another New Holland 'cocktail' for this year's stint at the lake, and although this one, too, had a 9% ABV, it wasn't nearly as good as the 'Mule I had earlier.  Far too sweet, I wouldn't be getting this one again.

This was about the closest thing we got to a 'sunset' this time around, but it was still thoroughly enjoyed.

Cold and rainy, still happy to be without kids on a boat.

Impending doom.

The rain never came out in full force, but tapered off as we made it back to shore.  Bryan really wanted to have a campfire for his first night back on the lake, but try as we did, we couldn't get the wood to catch fire.  It took a couple Solo cups of gasoline to finally do the trick. . .

Saturday

July 21st
"Rain.  All F***ing Day."

A cold, dreary, shitty start to our Saturday. . .

Watson and I were the only ones up for nearly two hours.  The cool weather and continuous rain kept everyone asleep throughout the better part of the morning.

I drank a few cups of coffee and enjoyed Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  I can think of far crappier ways to spend one's morning, honestly.

Seriously, Michigan. . .

Later on in the morning.  Still raining.  Kris was super happy this is how her weekend off of work was turning out.

Rainy weather meant we eased up on the kids' tablet usage.  They drained those things' batteries several times over, as there was really nothing else to do.

Some computer nerdery over lunch. . .

At first my parents had assumed I had simply sprained my toe, seeing how I had been limping around like a cripple for the last twenty-four hours.  But as my foot slowly turned black and green, Dad ceded that I had probably, in fact, broken it.  And that I hadn't been 'exaggerating' in my painful throws the day before.

Five-Minute Dungeon.  A Hough Family Favorite.

There was about a half-an-hour stretch of time today where it wasn't raining, and folks pounced on it in order to stretch the kids' - and dogs' - legs around the block.

Seat's taken.

More screen time.

Chelsey, Kris and the Cannonball work on a puzzle of sunny, beautiful Hawaii. . . which must've been like salt in the wound on a crappy day like this.

Uncle Bryan, making the most of his rainy Saturday. . .

Remember last year, when the Septic Tank kept over-flowing and we had to be super-conservative with our water usage?  Well, they had replaced the ol' girl and fenced off the entire front yard to guarantee nothing happened to the new one.

Dad and Brian, inspecting Brian's new grounding rod he bought and installed for the RV.  His entire family had been getting routinely shocked whenever they touched metal in the RV, ever since the rains came, and the rental folks weren't willing to comp him for the inconvenience.  While that matter lay unresolved, he was at least able to cut down on the electrocution by re-grounding the current.

Watson stakes his claim to the yard. . .

Some unused fishing equipment.  Not much fun to fish in the rain.

Still totally crappy out.  Just in case you were curious.

The finished product.

Another break in the weather, another excuse to take the dogs out.

The Waites arrived in the evening, so we had a few more extra bodies to squeeze into the living room. . .

Bloody Mary's (Maries?) are a signature drink for the Houghs up here at the lake.  I bought a ridiculous amount of stuff for them this year, and later Bryan would as well (we kept provisions well-stocked.)

Al cannot believe his beer. . .

Dinner time.

Dog brawl.  These two are off-and-on throughout the day.

Kris, Cindy and Chelsey.

Carving up dead animals.

My family rarely eats red meat at home, so eating it nearly every day of the week up here at the lake has probably done horrible, horrible things to my body.  Delicious as all hell, though.

Bryan brought up some cigars for us this year.  Larry and Al usually do as well.  Healthy living up at the Cottage. . . 

A really, really awesome dessert for Yours Truly.

Some hours later, probably around 1am.  Bryan gets ready to indulge in some gourmet, late-night snacks.  We all stayed up far too late, considering there was a Cornhole Tournament tomorrow and everything (and you know how seriously this family takes its cornhole. . .)

- Brian