Once a year, the Taylor family's oyster beds become a race course for those daring enough to get down and dirty for the annual Samish Bay Bivalve Bash.

You don't get a plate of oysters for winning, and you don't run on oyster shells. But you do get to play oyster for a day by running through the muck where oysters live.

And this year, I decided to join in the fun.

First order of business: become official. If I disappear into the muck, someone would at least know to find me.

A newbie to the oyster run, I needed some tips on what to do so I wouldn't be a dud in the mud.

"If you get stuck in the mud, I think you just need to keep moving," said race director Kate McDermott. "Keep moving. Just keep moving. Don't push down too hard. Just keep it light. Think, 'light.'"

"You want to take quick steps. You don't want to let yourself sink in," said Mr. Oyster, the host of the oyster run.

Another tip I learned: to prevent losing your shoes when your feet are sinking into the mud, you've got to tape the shoes onto your body. There's even a Super Jock 'N Jill Duct Tape Tent sent up for just this purpose.

In its seventh year, the oyster run has become a tradition for some.

Marti Reimer-Reiss took the coveted title last year. And this year, the champ got married on Friday, the day before she and her entire bridal party mucked it up.

"I love running, and I love the mud. So I couldn't miss this," Reimer-Reiss said.

The race began at exactly 1:53 p.m. for the bridal party and the rest of us mudboggers.

I had no plan other than to keep my feet moving. You realize quickly you need to keep your mouth shut. Oysters may taste good, but you don't want their goo in your throat.

The last 75 yards were painful with the lactic acid burning and the oyster pudding trying to swallow you. Everyone ran for survival.

Kyle McNight from La Conner sludged out a victory in 54 seconds.

I just know that I finished and didn't get stuck.

Then of course, the best part of an afternoon in the mud: shooting some oysters fresh off the grill.