We've all heard that the Inuit have dozens of different words for snow. I have no idea whether that's true, but it sounds right.
So how come New Englanders have only one word for mud?

Having run what many folks said was the muddiest Muddy Moose in memory, I can attest that there are many varieties, and we sampled most of them. I believe I'm still wearing at least two of them, in fact. We celebrated Earth Day by wading and wallowing in Wolfeboro mud, and most of us went home with a little bit still on us.

Race results are up on Cool Running, and Grand Tree results here.

Much of the mud on the course was of the deep, watery type. Your foot sinks with each step, and it slurps close around your ankles. I propose that we call that "glorp." Glorp comes in several different viscosities, however. There could be different words for the thinner, soupier version -- especially the espresso colored stuff you find at the edge of bog -- and the thick, gummier variety. Then there's mud that's so thick, almost like clay, that it doesn't close back around your shoe, but splats out. You don't sink quite so far, either. "Splack," maybe?

There's mud covered and mixed with leaves, and mud in which swamp grass grows. There's coarse, sandy mud and fine silty mud. Each has its own special feel. By far, my least favorite is the thin, slick coating of mud over frozen ground. That stuff is treacherous, and there's only one possible word for it: snot.
Anyhow, the 14 mile Muddy Moose had all 57 varieties, and patches of thick spring snow to clean our soles off in between. Fat lot of good that did.
The weather was superlative. If spring days come any better, I've yet to see them. I have no idea how many people ran the race, or who won. Results will be up soon enough. I felt I did pretty well, finishing at 2:13 and change. Best of all, my hip held up, and I was still able to walk afterward!
Michelle and I did things just a little differently this time out. For one, no iPods... we feared the muck. More significantly, Michelle decided at the last moment not to carry water, and I decided, being perhaps a little too easily swayed, to do the same. I only saw two other people with Camelbacks. There were water stations every two miles. That sounded as though it would be enough, and it was.
Michelle has a running mantra, "Run your own race." That's terrific advice, but I didn't follow it. I ran Thomas Parker's race. I don't know Mr. Parker, but I've seen him around at races. Looking at the results from the last outing, the Merrimack River Trail Race, I noticed that he's about my age, and also from Nashua. I also noticed that he finished a minute or so ahead of me.
The Muddy Moose course starts and ends on a road, which made for a nice brisk start. I pretty quickly settled into a trot, and spotted Parker early on. I don't recall whether he came up from behind, or was already ahead, but I decided to try to hang near him. He was going a little faster than I thought I'd like at the start, but what the heck. Once I warmed up, it seemed about right.
We didn't actually run together, really, but I stayed behind him most of the way out. The turn-around loop was a bit of a low point, for me. I was good and tired. I perked up a bit on the way back, with the long downhill stretch on a relatively clear, fire road sort of trail, and for a while I actually pulled ahead of him.
That didn't last. Parker passed me again somewhere in the last couple miles, and once we hit that final stretch back on the road, he was off like a shot. Or so it seemed to me, slogging up the last hill with five pounds of Wolfeboro earth in each shoe.
Anyhow, congratulations to him and everyone else who ran it. It was especially cool to meet Sherpa John in person, at last. SJ, as I mentioned, had just finished his first ever 100-mile race last weekend. So, I'm sure 14 miles seems like a sprint in comparison. I can't imagine. I don't have the words.

One other after thought, I have to cheer whomever came up with the Muddy Moose T-shirt design. It has directions for the course on the back, and the front is a copy of the state license plate, with the motto "Run Trails or Die."