Don’t Ask Me To Accept Your Limits: A response to “Don’t Ask Me To Sponsor Your Tough Mudder Race”

There seems to be a niche market of failed journalists who have nothing better to do than to bash those working harder than them. Huffington Post has published a blog post entitled “Don’t Ask Me To Sponsor Your Tough Mudder Race.” I felt the need to respond. While the author is clearly entrenched in his self-limiting way of life, there is hope that his readers are not.


The picture above is of a guy LITERALLY running through fire. That’s not a photoshop. It isn’t CGI. It’s dry brush (probably from Texas. Texas has the good brush) set on FIRE. His life, apparently, is so bad that he is running through burning bushes and basically immolating himself. I need to know. Does he have like a classroom of kids at home or are his in-laws living in that pseudo-illegal apartment above the garage?

Umm, no. While I do not know this man in particular, I am betting that he is running through fire as part of a race built to test your courage as much as your strength and speed. Some of us want to see what we are made of. It does not mean that we are trying to escape some horrible condition at home. All that would be needed in that case is a trip to the local bar.


Is he training for special forces? No? Are you sure? Okay, but he has a number on his chest, so this must be something important enough that it warrants a permanent record of this grand event.

No. Nothing important.

While it may not be important to you, many of us do keep full records of where we have been and what we have accomplished. It is important to us.

We’re approaching Memorial Day, and though it’s widely adopted as the unofficial start of the summer season, it’s also the unofficial start to your asshole co-worker asking you if you want to do this year’s Tough Mudder with him–or Spartan Race, or Gladiator Walk, or WARRIOR DASH, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU’RE CALLING YOUR DUMB RACE.

Here’s a scenario that I just thought up but is probably close to one-hundred percent accurate:

[Typical office conversation between a guy doing one of these races and myself if I had an office job.]

Bro: Bro… you want to do Tough Mudder with me this year? It’s a crazy course, bro.

Me: (Doesn’t reply. Just walks away.)

Dude, are you okay? Need a hug? Want a cookie? Trouble at home? A normal person would simply respond with, “No thanks, not my thing, but you go have fun.” Or even with, “That sounds interesting, what do I need to be able to do?”

One of my coworkers that did her first Spartan alongside me:


Contrary to their names, this adult playpen that you’re going to has literally nothing to do with or is in no way associated with and should never be confused with ancient Rome or gladiators. Or high school football players for that matter.

Look at the picture below. I mean holy shit!!! POP QUIZ: One of these guys is doing a Tough Mudder, and the other was in THE MOVIE, Apocalypto.


I think the Tough Mudder could outrun Mr. Apopcalypto. Total non sequitur, but that doesn’t seem to bother you.

These races are a lot of things — mainly they just fall into the descriptive adjectives column like ridiculous and fucking ridiculous– but what they are not are races designed around methods used by Russel Crowe when he was bulking up for the role of Maximus. Don’t let Don from Accounts Receivable fool you. He’s no more of a man than you because he climbed up a mud wall with oiled up ropes studded with cactus thorns (Cacti thorns?). You still drive a Dodge Dart, Don. And I doubt that the Spartans who fought in the Battle of Thermopylae had toe fungus.

The idea of what makes one a man is debated throughout the centuries. But if Don from Accounts Receivable has trained properly, he can handle himself better in an emergency than you can, likely is stronger and in better health. Oh, and you realize that military forces throughout history have used assault courses to train their troops, right?

Your void of innate masculinity is really astounding, Mr. Endurance Guy, so I understand this desire of yours to “challenge yourself.” Actually, I don’t. But it makes perfect sense that these glorified obstacle courses would be created by Ivy leaguers– two Havard Business School grads, in fact. Because really, what evokes toughness, gladiator biceps, and human growth hormone inundation like a couple of twenty-six year old hardos named Seth and Dougie…

First off, do you understand what the word projection means?

Oh, Ivy Leaguers could never be tough? Ever hear of these guys?



Congratulations. You just rewound your life to 4th grade. Has that 5K mud race certificate of authenticity gotten you laid by chance– by a human, I mean?

113285_10153007580558198_2010952305355728639_n 10428628_10152863974553779_2505342009710047394_n 10922525_877151868992886_3802661899344580263_n 11008515_10100179253347059_6355923750521282733_n 11053226_10153368176165559_6071112319357290600_n 11062019_10153274218623449_7424404708574147712_n 11070783_701222616655118_3884846604740307175_n 11070783_10200678163032797_4703149519447066327_n 11108195_10206292679543151_6416484166687738025_n 11108368_10153237221480485_8539896509974301265_n 11116326_10153303793409889_8112540950654794009_o 11139973_10153319422554907_1640463215493102413_n 11152354_10155553304920261_1437821776547185810_n 11164555_10153274214903449_7028389512937396596_n 11167668_10204393219699675_4126517358693139823_n 11203003_10204828803588135_1433213472388488549_n 11210429_10155637962545437_5313961790859210239_n 11212745_10153274215493449_8307672558920306094_n 11233527_934344059919085_6302702658715605723_n 11246367_10153282537455699_9209798959463385529_o 11247498_10207442898457476_6031952985586843418_n 11260709_10205325480954512_6803852829372826520_n 11263045_10206537413385047_6901095704481919845_n 11263974_10206730390920920_4565824010413966671_n 11295648_1133822963300155_781622599833543529_n 11329985_701222679988445_4170429873367956958_n 11350553_10155550829660258_8682078957674369778_n 11351210_921956554509260_6311100892064328950_n

Might have happened.

What ever happened to snuggling up on a banquet seat with a ginger tea and Jonathan Franzen novel on a Saturday? What? I’m not a man you say? Excuse me, but real men vacuum. I don’t need to pound my chest like an ape and prove my testosterone count to anyone…

Neither do we. Dude, I’m not here to prove myself to you, I don’t beat my chest and I enjoy a good cup of tea. I also like seeing what my mind and body are capable of, and pushing them to do more. Enjoy your tea and vacuum up your cheetos crumbs.

Except you, girl.

I wouldn’t mind washing that mud off of you if you know what I mean (wink emoji).


Down, boy. Pretty sure her response is going to be something like:


Chris Peak is a freelance writer from Boston.

Chris Peak is a blogger who appears to have nothing legitimate to write about and is wasting his time with this.

Oh, by the way, did you even mention sponsorship anywhere but the title?

6 thoughts on “Don’t Ask Me To Accept Your Limits: A response to “Don’t Ask Me To Sponsor Your Tough Mudder Race”

  1. So pleases put this fat, lazy, self conscious Muppet in his place..

    Clearly he is u happy with his life and takes it out on people he is jealous of..

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