ZomBIE or Not ZomBIE: That is the Question: Part II

I..we, (I was still stuck in a huge group of people) came up to another batch of zombies.  This time I figured I'd run to the side and pass everyone as the zombie picked off the slow-pokes.  This worked, until the slow-pokes veered off to the side and nearly ran me off into a 15 foot ditch.  I was able to avoid getting a flag taken but I realized that I wasn't going to keep my flags for very long with this group.

There weren't any zombies up ahead so I sprinted to a smaller group that consisted of a guy dressed as Rick Grimes.  This group knew what was up.  We sprinted through the zombies.  Unfortunately there was a group ahead of us who didn't share our strategy.  I couldn't slow down in time and ran into some small Asian guy, knocking us both over.  I imagine it occurred like the final blow in Rocky II:

I somehow managed to sprain my ankle from this collision (C.). The pain was quick and severe. I still had at least two miles to go and there was no way I was going to give up. (I paid over $70 this!) I tightened my shoe to keep the swelling down and trekked on.

The obstacles were tough for me. The worst was wading through the muddy water. Each time my foot slipped into mud and I had to pull my foot out was excruciating. The excitement had my adrenaline going so I was able to avoid the zombies, but I would pay for it soon after. Before I knew it, I had reached the final mile.

Zombies were now all over the place and there weren't many safe areas.  I was now down to a single flag as a clever zombie stole a flag from behind me.  I was now stressed out and nervous with one flag remaining. As I approached the end, a volunteer zombie that decided that I wasn't going to finish the race with my flag.

At this point I was covered in mud from chest to toe. My feet were heavy and my shoes lost all traction.  A zombie slowly approached me as I stood trying to figure out my next move. I tried sprinting quickly and slipped and fell.  This zombie decided to let others past right by him and he never took his eyes off me while he slowly approached me.  What a dick.

An audience was watching closely as many people were watching near the finish line. There's actually home video of this out there somewhere. Since this zombie was letting people pass him on the side I decided to walk toward that side. WWSD. What Would Shane Do? I decided to lure this zombie into the other people.  He briefly turned to another person and I took advantage and ran by him. He reached for my flag and missed.

With all this fun going on I had forgotten about my ankle and decided to remind myself how much it actually hurt. There were a few zombies still ahead and I was now hobbling as they were.  Only mine wasn't an act. There were three left and one noticed my lone flag and came my way.  Tired and hurt I had nowhere to go.  I didn't want to finish as a zombie.  I actually trained for this. (half-assedly I might add) I put my head down, and bent forward taking deep breaths as this zombie approached.

I played possum.  The oldest trick in the book.  I ditched that zombie like Nike did Lance Armstrong.  My ankle throbbed with victory. I made it. 

My ankle currently hurts as I type this but I think it was well worth it and I encourage everyone to give it a try when Run For Your Lives comes to your area.

ZomBIE, or Not ZomBIE: That is the Question. Part I

 Yesterday, I attended the Run For Your Lives 5K Obstacle Course in Temecula, California.  I've been pretty excited about this since January, when I initially signed up.  If you're not aware with what it is I suggest browsing through the website. Now before I continue on with my "adventure", I will give you a few tidbits that will help you understand what transpired.

A.  I drive a slightly lowered 1994 Honda Civic Hatchback.

B.  We were given three flags.  If you ended the race with at least one flag, you were considered a survivor. 

C.  God gave me poor ankles.  Seriously.  I was born with one ankle inverted the wrong way.  That's right, I was born a monster

There had been a slight drizzle that occurred in the early morning hours that left the dirt loose and slippery.  At this point I was still in my car being directed to park in a parking lot that is really just a big dirt field. I don't know why on Earth I would be encouraged to park over mounds of loose dirt. (A.)

My car nearly got stuck in it and when I accelerated to get myself out of a potentially embarrassing situation, the bottom piece of plastic designated to protect my car's insides was ripped off.  There it rested in a mound of dirt, never to be seen by me again. Good-bye plastic-protective-piece thing, it was a good 12 years.  I was running a bit late and didn't have time to worry about it.

Fast forward to the "race" start.  No one warned us that the first half mile or so was a hike up a mountain.  We all walked.  The Walking Living.  After awhile I became curious as to why there weren't any zombies at this point.  That's when I heard the screams (and laughter) and suddenly people began checking up and stopping.

It was the beginning of a situation where everyone stopped and watched the zombies as if they were street performers.  This group I was with, decided that it was a good idea to count out loud and bum rush the zombies at the count of three.  This in fact was a terrible idea.

Much like a pride of lions picking off wildebeests at random, these zombies were taking flags at an incredible rate.  Unfortunately I was stuck behind slow people and couldn't get around.  I tried to get around a chubby girl, when suddenly I heard the sound of velcro ripping.  I had encountered the first group of zombies and was already down to two flags (B.)  This wasn't going to end well.