Low Tide Mud Run near Samish Bay attracts hardy racers

It is "billed as the Northwest's toughest footrace," the emcee says — which sounds ridiculous, considering the entire course is 250 yards.

Then the race begins and everything becomes clear. Or muddy, depending.

It's the Low Tide Mud Run, a deceivingly grueling slog through deep, black muck that takes place each year on Samish Bay near Bellingham.

"It was the most physically painful thing I've ever done," said Ariel Morrison, of Boston, who ran last year. She does not plan on doing it again.

The winners finish in under a minute; the back of the pack might take five or six. The reward? Every participant gets an oyster shell, painted gold, hanging on a ribbon.

In Saturday's race there were about 250 people, most of them dressed in their worst.

"You wore shoes you wanted to keep?" one racer asked another, shaking his head at the lack of forethought.

Indeed, the risk of losing a shoe is so great that racers have to duct-tape them on. Even still, the racecourse runs the risk of becoming a graveyard of lost sneakers. That mud can pull.

"The trick is obviously to be light on your feet," the emcee said.

He did not elaborate.

At 10:49 a.m. — low tide exactly — a foghorn blared and the racers were off like a shot.

And they slowed. One step and they sank an inch. A few more steps and it was ankle-deep. By the halfway mark, the knees were history. Racers were stumbling and falling, struggling to their feet and falling again.

In a word, it was disgusting — or fun as heck, depending.

The problem, of course, is suction. An insidious foe, it forces racers to use all of their strength just to lift a foot. Most seem to agree that by the halfway point — that's just 125 yards, remember — everything falls apart.

"You go anaerobic," explains Paul Fredericks, a 71-year-old racer from Bellingham. That's when you're pushing so hard, the bloodstream can't get oxygen to the muscles fast enough. You know when your muscles burn? Really, really bad? And you're sucking wind like a broken-down turbine? That's it.

"Your body hurts so much you can barely move your legs," said Logan Johnson, who runs cross-country and track at Skagit Valley College. This from the man who took third place, despite falling twice. Decked out in a mohawk and a blue Speedo, he still looked like he was about to retch 20 minutes after the race was done.

He was also smiling.

Maureen O'Hagan: 206-464-2562 or mohagan@seattletimes.com