“It’s only electricity,” I say over and over. It was meant to remain in my head, but I could hear the words escape my lips. No one else cared. Caked in mud, their bodies to the point of nearly collapsing, lungs inhaling and exhaling rapidly to get what little oxygen they can to what muscles were still working, they didn’t give a damn what I was muttering. Even my friends were too busy building themselves up to hear my mantra. “It’s only electricity.”
It had been four hours. Four hours of crawling through mud, climbing obstacles, jogging, crawling through ice water, and countless other deterrents to my health. Now there was a fifty foot stretch of electrical wires between myself and the finish. I could see the head bands and the shirts. I would wear them proudly. I could see the beer. It was Dos Equis, and though I hated beer, I would pay the iron price for this drink, and I would drink it all, every last drop. It’s only electricity.
I remembered the jolts from last year. I remember walking through it and taking two good charges to my shoulders. I crawled off to the side and walked outside the wires. I paid the gold price for the beer. I wouldn’t do that again. “It’s only electricity!” I shouted the words, and charged forward.
...like butta' on your toast!
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