I had a cold last week. It was one of those ones that started as a bit of a sniffle then developed into the brain fogging, throat trashing, can’t quite cough enough type of cold that is supremely irritating. It also meant that walking, let alone cycling, anywhere suddenly took on a whole new challenge as I thought either my lungs were going to explode or my heart was going to pack it’s bags and wave bye bye.

This did not put me in a good mood. One because it meant that my lips got dry and chapped and I now have the ugliest cracked cold sores you’ve ever seen and two because the cold meant that I wouldn’t be able to do Tough Guy on sunday. At least I had the weekend free.

I felt bad because my friend was still going to do it but I’d promised him a fortnight earlier that I’d definitely be doing it and could drive him up. Still, catholic guilt aside, we don’t get to choose when we get ill and there was no way I was going to run to the toilet, let alone run 8 miles with a chest full of gunk. By saturday morning I’d decided that he could make his own way up. By saturday afternoon, I decided that it might be worth going to spectate and take some pictures of him (and perhaps some video on my new yet underused video camera). By saturday evening, after a few pints down my local, I had decided that I am so fucking tough that neither a cold nor 3 months of not training was going to hold me back and by sunday morning I was in my kit, lining up on the hill, overlooking the Tough Guy course.

The Country Miles (the cross country bit before the assault course bit) was longer than the summer Nettle Warrior event I’m a veteran of. About twice as long with double the number of hill slaloms. I don’t remember the last time I plodded around a course so slowly. I did more or less manage to run as much as I could around the whole course and it wasn’t long before we hit the Gurkha Grand National, a series of pits filled with freezing cold, shin deep mud that we had to drop a metre and a half into and then clamber out of.

This was just a taste of things to come.

I have never seen the Tiger - the two 30 ft A-frames seperated by a gauntlet run between dangling electric fences - so packed and that was pretty much how the course remained. Every obstacle had a queue of people which gave you plenty of time to start getting cold. To be honest, apart from the fact that I couldn’t feel my hands so I was pretty much unable to climb up a rope, it wasn’t too bad. Even the swamp (which had much more impressive and sticky mud than normally in Nettle Warrior) was okay although the casualties had started to pile up by that point with people suffering from leg cramps left, right and centre.

The water between the Fiery Holes and after the Paradise Climb was, however, very fucking cold and I was amazingly grateful for my neoprene training shorts which kept all the right bits at a good temperature. But things took a turn for the worse at the underwater tunnel. The lead up was reduced to ducking under only two telegraph poles but that was enough for me and I have to confess that I bailed out of the actual tunnel itself skipped it. I felt bad about it after my running mate suffered it but made up for it by walking the plank into The Lake which he skipped. A two metre jump into an icy cold lake and then a very, very hasty swim to get the hell out!

On the run afterwards it became clear that D. was showing the first signs of hypothermia and cramp. We pushed on, figuring that a chance to run might help warm him up a bit and so we skipped Dan’s Deciever as I don’t think waiting in the queue to get over it would have helped him any. The Dragon Pools were next and I can safely say that I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid and hesitant about getting into a body of water as I was standing on the platform looking down at it. I’ve dived into shark infested waters and swam through wrecks at 40m down in the middle of the ocean but this small body of water in the staffordshire countryside was putting the fear of God into me. D. decided to skip the pools too but yours truly, unleashing a tremendous battle cry (which, despite what anyone tells you to the contrary, did not sound like a girly scream!) jumped right in and swam to the other side quicker than I’ve ever swam before.

That was the last of the water obstacles, with the exception of the Bailey Bridge - a pontoon crossing made up of floating barrels and planks of wood that started breaking up underneath us. The Stalag Escape (crawling under barbed wire) was far easier than summer owing to the lugubrious mud and then it was just overcoming the Tyre Torture and Anaconda before getting to the finish.

Oh, and overcoming a serious case of cramps.

Still, after two and a half hours, we finished and got our medals and, more importantly, an extremely welcome cup of very sugary tea - most of which went over the floor as my hands were shakeing too much to get it into my mouth.

This was proper Tough Guy and I seriously don’t recommend doing it if you’re not prepared. It was more than just a physical challenge and I found it took a real mental effort to push myself to complete the entire course. And I really don’t recommend trying to do it on the back end of a cold - it’s not big and it’s certainly not fucking clever!

A couple of days later, though, and we’ve warmed (no pun intended) to the idea of trying it again next year but this time with the challenge of completing the entire course and not missing anything out. This will involve extensive training and making sure that we have the right kit (Warm gloves: check. Warm hat: check. Triathlon wetsuit: check. Arctic survival suit: check.) We’re both entered for Nettle Warrior in the summer but to be perfectly honest, it’s an absolute breeze after the winter event, even it is twice around the obstacle course. Still, we’ve got a few more things lined up for before then!

Photos soon with a bit of luck.