You Had Me At, "Free Viking Helmet"

It's time to take an intermission from the European extravaganza. This post and the post or two that will follow will cover something about which I care very much about.

Viking helmets.

Yes, exactly one week from today I will be donning as little clothing as possible and dashing through 3.17 miles of mud, obstacle, and glory in the Midwest Warrior Dash in Joliet, Illinois. There will be bands, games, turkey legs, mugs of ale, costumes, beards, and celebration. The twelve obstacles include climbing over hay stacks, wooden barricades, hellish hills, cargo net climbs, rolling over cars, surmounting large spools, plank walks, descending a ravine, navigating a tunnel, slithering through a swamp, leaping over fire, and crawling under barbed wire. But, for me, the most difficult obstacle will be keeping my ego in check after I achieve a monumental victory. I'm willing to accept that I may never overcome this one.

I will be traveling to Chicago on the 18^th to spend time with my family before I assume my rightful place in the halls of legend the following morning. I expect to be showered with gifts, grapes, and fine items, wishing me well for upcoming battle. Then, I will wake up early the next day (God help me), welcome the sun with the passing of nocturnal liquid (in my brother's favorite coffee cup), make a sacrifice to the god of war (this may or may not involve pancakes), grab my shield (which may or may not involve a pancake), and head to CPX Sports in Joliet (not a cool name for a place of war). After check-in and death-waiver signing, I will be ready to start at 9:30. I fear for those who are competing against me, for they yet not know who will be dealing them swift defeat. But, they will know. They will all know.

I will be assisted by my two men-at-arms, Josh and Matt. Both of these brave souls were once clients of mine. Now, they are trusted companions, brothers-in-arms, fellow warriors. After I was first turned on to the Warrior Dash, I asked them if they would like to taste sweet victory at my side. Here is how the conversation progressed:
Dave (Hereafter referred to as Hercules): “Forsooth, Matt, Bringer of Thunder and Pain, and Josh, Bane of Men and Treasure of Women, wilst thou joinst me in ye olde Dash of Warriors?”
Josh: “My liege, does not my blood run crimson red with the desire to destroy men? Does not my heart pump rage, dark rage, through every muscle, igniting the fire to win, to wield great power, to know glory?”
Hercules: “Yes, dear friend, it doeseth. By the sword of Mars, can I count you in?”
Josh: “'Till that bastard death take me.”
Hercules: “And you, Matteth?”
Matt (with a confused countenance): “Erm.”
Hercules: “You get a free viking helmet...”
Matt: “I'm in!”

And so, the unholy trinity was formed. Our enemies will rue the day. Spirits will be crushed, dreams will be dashed, ale will be imbibed. And, oh yes, there will be mud.

We began a strict non-training regimen as soon as we could. After a few months of that, we figured it would be good to actually start running. That was a mistake. Training for strength for so long has turned me into a rather heavy piece of sexy human flesh. Putting 200 pounds into controlled flight up and down hills isn't a fun thing to do at first. However, the unforgiving appetite for glory quelled the intense pain of shin splints and burning lungs. We trained. We poured sweat. We shed blood. We became machines. The typical run would take us over four miles with intermittent stops to perform push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, mountain-crawls, backward-crawls, squats, and various other forms of hellish torture that not even Guantanamo Bay would permit. The world was our gym. Our wills were the battlegrounds.

Quickly, we dropped time. And we added more pain. We met the alluring gazes of defeat and doubt with iron-wrought determination. We are forged of greatness.

If I find the time, I will post videos and pictures from the training. I will warn you, though. You will be shocked, you will be awed, and you will definitely be turned on.

Well, every good warrior needs a good weapon. My feet, my weapons, were in need of some serious upgrade. After all, the training managed to break the shoes...but not the man.

So, I went to the local blacksmith/running specialty store and spoke to the noble smithy/salesperson, Andrew:
Hercules: “Dear sir, I doth require a new pair of clod-lachetes. Shall I find vindication?”
Andrew: “Uh, this is a shoe store. Try the game store about three blo...”
Hercules: “Satan's stones! How dare you offend my wits about me! I bite my thumb at you, sir!”
Andrew: “Okay. I'm sorry? What did you need again?”
Hercules: “Shoes, damn you, shoes.”
Andrew: “Oh, for what?”
Hercules: “You are as blind as you are insolent! On June 19^th I will achieve victory in the Midwest Warrior Dash, assuming my rightful place at the seat of eternal honor! Even a French knave could see this to be true.”
Andrew: “Cool, check these out. They're selling like crazy. They're called Vibram Five Fingers.”
And then, the gods parted the heavens and sunlight fell like fire on just one corner of the Earth. Angels sang a chorus of righteous victory. Babies were born. Men grew stronger. Women danced. And that one corner of the world was in a specialty shoe store in Hudson, Ohio. The beam of ethereal blessing showering over mirror twins of rubber and nylon composition. I had found my weapon. Like Alexander the Great's noble Bucephalus, the key to my swift victory was at hand.
Andrew sold me his wares (does that sound gay?). He also recommended decaf. I walked out onto the Earth and felt all of her under my toes. My stride became fluid. My stance, secure. I connected with everything around me. I became the Earth and felt her move under each step. Better grip, more mobility, efficient muscular recruitment. Also, it's so ninja.

As to my costume? Well, as many of you know, I take advantage of every opportunity to go without wearing a shirt. I consider it a gift to the world. Even if I decide to present it at that local supermarket in the produce section by the cucumbers in an effort to regain my self-confidence. So, I will likely go with a Spartan-style motif. We're talking a cape, shield, leather diaper, and rippling manliness. We'll see, though. I'm open to suggestions. The main requirement is shirtlessness.
Well, nearly any suggestion...

So, is there a reason behind the madness? Certainly. At the risk of getting serious, it's time to get, well, serious.

As you know, we are blessed people. We exist in a society where there is such abundance we actually created an epidemic of over-indulgence and obesity. We have so much. Many, many others have so little. This is a country founded on the principles of freedom for all. It is a vision, a dream, a right we share with all of mankind. It can be defined in many ways. I enjoy the freedom of walking on two feet, of eating when I am hungry...or even when I'm not, of having received an incredible education, of access to opportunity, of living beyond the means of everyday survival. Not everyone shares in these freedoms. Some may not even possess one from this list.

Everyone has seen the commercials. The imploring faces. The inherent need. The woeful desperation. Everyone wants to help. What if I told you one of us did? And, what if I told you she is still doing it? My friend, Britni, spent time in Arusha, Tanzania, earlier this year. She didn't find the commercials. It wasn't woeful desperation, drowned in loss of motivation. Instead, it was joy. A culture of loving life and being grateful for what one has. Even if it is very little. She can tell her story much better than I ever could and she shares it in her blog. Please, take the time to read it. I believe in these efforts to help these children obtain food and access to a proper education. I am willing to test this belief in fire.

So, for the Warrior Dash, I am collecting donations on behalf of this amazing mission. It is called Strength in Numbers: Dave Dashes for Africa. If you are interested in helping in any way, please, message me on Facebook, send me an e-mail, or text me. Depending on how well I perform on June 19^th, we could see a lot of change come from whatever change you choose to provide. Thank you, everyone, for reading this and for being a part of the reason, the drive, behind it all. Without the love of my family and friends, and the heart of the community I have been blessed to call home, I wouldn't have something to fight for. I wouldn't be a warrior.