Dressed in my jogging wear, I take a short run through a forest clearing. Carefully I try to cross a section turned to mud on a fallen log by balancing my way across. Unfortunately, the log gives way crumbling away under my foot, making me slip into the pit of silty clay. I holds me tightly, refusing to let me squirm my way to the sides of the pit. I claw for an exit; only for my hands to scrape uselessly at the clay around me. Eventually I am able to grab hold of the side of the pit, but the act of pulling myself upright only causes my body to sink deeper in my struggle. Of course by now, I am not sure I want to get out at all. Besides, what's the fun in dragging yourself out of a mud pit if you aren't going to leap back in and see how deep you can make yourself sink. Having it around me wan't enough, I needed it closer. Sitting back on the log that originally betrayed me I grab handfuls of the mud and shove it into my tight Spandex clothing, feeling the fridge earth again my boiling body. Still not enough. I strip down so I can be covered completely.