MY EXPERIENCE AT HELL AND BACK (and becoming their poster girl)

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Not too sure if any of you have even heard of “Hell and Back” but it is  basically an opportunity for the clinically insane to roll about in mud while trying to relive their childhood… or so I thought.

Of course, true to my personality type (thick), I signed up for it. It was my neighbours 40th birthday and we decided to go for it, as a present to her (how kind am I???). So there it was, we thought it would be an interesting alternative to the traditional birthday celebrations involving cake and cards and the like and we were all headed to the Wicklow hills for a “bit of craic.

Our plan was to run round the mud for a bit, to make us think we were fit, then have a nice warm shower (I’ll get to that later) and head back home for a nice wee meal out and a few drinks. Not too challenging at all.

Our first alarm bell rang when we went to collect our “Welcome” (farts in space suits?) pack. There were hoards of people everywhere all in “Hell and Back” T-shirts and looking a little bit wide eyed and crazed.


We got chatting to one of the guys handing out the packs and asked “Is it really that bad?

He laughed (insanely) and said to his fellow guy handing out packs “She wants to know is it bad?”

He too laughed (insanely) and replied “What is the worst thing you have ever done?”

… eh? “Given birth?”

“Yeah well” (he actually had to think about it)… “It’s maybe not quite that bad…but it’s still pretty shit.”

At that stage we were a little rattled, gathered together and considered heading back to Newcastle (even though the drive down had been hairy enough). But, being the tight arse I am and a determined sort (I had given birth, voluntarily, on more than one occasion), I announced “we have come this far, we may as well try it.”

So, not to be put off, we headed off, parked up the car and took the bus to the estate where the course was.

The bus journey itself sounded a few more alarm bells. We got chatting to a few other participants (really clinically insane people), these were seasoned racers and had taken part in more than one of these events. We had started to hear rumours about one or two of the obstacles on the route and asked if “Sniper Alley” (where they shot at you with pellet guns) was really that bad.

They replied “Ah feck, its much worse! Me mate Johnny ended up in hospital last year, it was mighty craic”…seriously? (As I said-clinically insane!).

I started to remember the pain of childbirth at this stage, so I desperately asked for tips on how to avoid getting shot (believe it or not I do not do pain…at all… in any shape or form, I still don’t really know how I managed to deliver all those children).

They laughed and said “Nohin!”

Then they saw my bag, pointed and laughed, oh how they laughed, and when I asked why they were laughing, they pointed to my stilettos and white jeans which were hanging out of my changing bag (I am so glad the lead of the hairdryer was hidden) and said “This is obviously your first time”.

“Yes” I replied (they were starting to annoy me with their childish hysterics), “but I phoned and they told me there were showers”, now I don’t think that was particularly funny but it had Bill and Ben in total stitches.

Baffled, I ignored their childish behaviour and admired the “scenery” which was very muddy and covered in thousands of people, totally and utterly plastered in……mud!.

Upon arrival at the “race track” (very, very loose term), I made an enquiry about these showers. I was pointed to an area where those people who were very, very muddy were heading. The shower “area” looked like a hayshed with hoses coming from the roof? from the screams echoing off the tin walls, I was guessing it wasn’t on jacuzzi mode “That must be where you get rinsed off before heading to the showers” I said to my equally terrified party.

The man at the front  “door” (I say “door” I mean black plastic curtain), laughed (what is it with people from Wicklow?) and said “Aye, the warm showers are round the back”.

I actually believed him… how stupid am I? (Don’t answer that).

Then we started our descent into “Hell and Back!”

First few miles, great craic, everyone was on top form and nothing seemed too daunting.

Then, the sh!t hit the fan, we hit “Sniper Alley” remember my comment about being stupid?? Yeah, well get this, we get to the top of the hill and the photographer (seriously I should have known better…. his camera was crap) asked us to pose for photos, so I grabbed my teammates and struck a pose… then I heard the gunshots (and that now familiar Wicklow laugh), I have to be honest and say that I am frequently ribbed about my inability to sprint… not today… no one could catch me. I pushed everyone aside and made the fastest descent known to man. I am also embarrassed to say I ran for a good few hundred yards, before my husband (who had really got the hang of Wicklow laugh) yelled “We’re past it!”… phew, yeah, cool, I knew that.

More climbs, mud swims and swamps greeted us on our way round the track.  Then I spotted it! What looked like a harmless string of Christmas lights was, in fact, the most horrifying experience ever: “Shock of Horrors”.

Typical of my personality, I decided to just “dive in ” and get it over with. My husband was just ahead of me and I should have stopped when I heard him scream, but instead I thought it was hilarious (I had finally found the Wicklow laugh inside), then I got hit… the pain, oh the pain! Then I got hit again…the temper…oh the temper! It was awful, and, as soon as I got out, I am embarrassed to say, I started throwing muck in a rage at the “Hell and Back” staff who thought it was hilarious to shake the innocent Christmas lights, which made them laugh even more.
When you are looking at my photo and having a good old laugh, please bear in mind… I was in immense pain from multiple electric shocks as well as the running mascara!

Two miles on and I eventually saw the funny side, but just when I thought the “Hell” was over and the finish line was in sight … “Ten Foot Tessie” appeared in my mucked up vision.

I have absolutely no idea how I got over it, but I knew it was going to be “first go or never” and I will apologize to the poor person who hoisted me up (I’m not that stupid. I grabbed the tallest, strongest man I could see and literally stood on his head…sorry!). Nothing was stopping me from getting out of there and off that course!.

Suddenly the finish line was in sight! We all laughed, hugged and talked about how it was the “Best experience ever!” we were a little hysterical from the fear, the pain and the relief it was all over! We had a drink, a bar of chocolate then we headed to the “Rinsing Room”.

Yes, you’ve got it, that room with the hoses hanging from the roof was “the showers”. Men, women and children were thrown together in a room of black plastic with nothing to hide your modesty but mud.

They even had the cheek to ask you to remove your shoes before heading to the showers…granted the removal of said shoes involved sticking them in a skip. It took at least an hour of freezing cold water to get a bit of the muck off. I just got bored (and ran out of shampoo) and then I remembered… the white jeans and stilettos! Oh the shame! How much of a tit was I going to look mincing round in my white jeans in this haven of muck??? Thankfully, I had brought cycling shorts (I have no idea why) and Hell and Back gave you a T-shirt, so I was able to walk out of the shower block, partially clothed and with the tiniest bit of dignity (remember I was wearing cycling shorts!)… (although I am sure I heard a few more Wicklow chuckles as I waddled out of the shower room and my changing bag emptied to reveal: a hair dryer, straighteners and, of course, my white jeans and stilettos).

All joking aside, I would thoroughly recommend “Hell and back”, it was a fantastically well run and enjoyable experience. You know I even enjoyed the cold showers, there was something so basic and primal about it. Who needs wine glasses, birthday cake and pampering to celebrate your years? It turns out that all you really need for a bit of fun on a Sunday afternoon, is a bit of dirt, a hose and a trip to Hell and Back!