"Risin' up straight to the top
Had the guts, got the glory
Went the distance Now I'm not gonna stop
Just a man and his will to survive"
Survivor is singing their heart out, trying to get us amped up for what we're about to do. I turn them down though as we approach a volunteer who wants to tell us where to park. I mean, WE know we're cool for listening to Eye of the Tiger, but I don't want everyone else knowing how cool we are. It might create some resentment on the course.  |
| Team Legendary: Brian, Me and Daniel |
The nerves on the shuttle (i.e. the trailer with wooden rails for people to sit on) are obvious as people talk quietly amongst themselves, or just stare out at our surroundings as we bounce past dusty back roads and scores of colorful wildflowers along the side of the road.
We're dumped about 2/10 of a mile from the entryway and immediately start scanning for obstacles as we walk. From here things move pretty quickly. We get our packets, pin our bibs, and write our numbers on our arms, legs, and (in my case anyway) our foreheads. Wristbands on, beer tags secured, and obligatory group shot done, we move into the main event area.
There's already a crowd gathering near the starting line-the 9am competitive wave. The emcee is doing his best to amp everyone up, shouting "WHO AM I??" and the crowd cries back "I AM SPARTAN!!!". A few more motivational words by the emcee and then with a flash of smoke they're off and running. We decide that it'd be a good idea to stretch and warm-up so we move off to a less populated area to do just that. All too soon we hear the call for the 9:30am wave-our wave. Hearing that call, my stomach literally tries to catapult itself out of my mouth. We head towards the back of the line, checking out the people around us. There are the few wearing super bright colors, but this group is sadly lacking the obligatory costumed athletes. There is one guy near us talking a lot of mess though (there's always one, right?) and as you can tell by Daniel's face, he's NOT impressed:
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| That's the look that being a douchebag gets you |
It feels like we run FOREVER before hitting our first obstacle which is a few over-unders. We crawl (or if you're Brian you dive roll) under a net and then climb over a wall about chest high. 3 sets of these later and we're continuing on. Our next set of obstacles: over-under-throughs. This time it's over a wall that's a little taller than the last few, under a wall and then through a square cutout on a wall. I like the "through"'s because while most people grab the top, stick their feet through and then half the time scrap their back trying to angle their way out, I have my own technique. I just turn around, bend backwards through the square, grab the top, do a pull up and yank my feet through. Easy peasy. 2 sets of these, done and done.
Our next stop is the high wall, probably around 8-10 feet. I don't even bother trying to do it on my own because there's NO way I'm doing the penalty unless I absolutely have to. What penalty, you ask? Oh, only the 30 burpees that you have to do if you fail an obstacle. You get one chance-ONE. I'm going for energy conservation and efficiency here, so doing as few burpees as possible is the goal. Brian helps me up over the wall then scales it himself. And we're running.
We don't have to run very far before we hit the monkey bars. I mentally kick myself for not practicing more on the monkey bars that my husband built for me in the backyard. I have terrible grip strength, especially in my left hand so needless to say I'm nervous stepping up to this one. Brian swings himself across while I stop and catch my breath for a second. Then it's go time. I make my way across the metal structure, rung by rung, feeling like my left hand is going to slip and I'm going to fall every time I'm swinging with my right hand. But I make it across, do a mental happy jig and then immediately face the next obstacle. These are wooden poles stuck in the ground at different heights. I'm seeing a good number of people doing burpees on this one so I'm careful when stepping but it looks like my balance is getting better and better. Score.
At this point Brian and I are running low on energy so we're both grateful for the next obstacle: water. There are large, black floating boxes in a pond that you have to Free Willy your way over. The first one I don't push off the bottom of the pond hard enough and almost slide back into the water, but manage to make it over. The second one you actually have to go under, which feels Ah-mazing. The third one is over again, this time the water is deeper so Brian goes over first, then holds his hand out for me to grab incase I have trouble getting over. I feel quite beluga whale-ish, sliding on my stomach, but I make it across and so I'm cool with that. I don't realize until we're done that you actually have to do burpees if you happen to slide back into the water without making it over the boxes and I see some poor bastard off to the side doing just that. Sorry buddy.
We get to the obligatory cargo net climb, a staple in any obstacle race. No problems here.
We trudge through creek after creek, stream after stream, until we come up to something new: log hurdles. These hurdles are as high as my neck and are fashioned out of logs (hence the name, log hurdles). The volunteer takes his job real serious at this one, yelling at all of us to not stop, keep running, but not in a motivating way. It's more of a "I've been giving a minuscule amount of power over you and I'm going to use that power to be a dick" type of yelling. I snort as I hear Brian grumble under his breath for the dude to shut up and then take a running leap at the hurdles. I hit it smack in my stomach, curling my arms around it just as I start to rotate underneath it. Wrong way! I start to kip myself back and forth until I have enough momentum to swing myself up and over the hurdle. One down, 2 to go. The second is fine, and the third I start the same way only I misjudge the distance to the ground I guess. I flip over and land weird, causing my body to go flying out and I eat it rowdy style. Brian is cracking up and I immediately get up and start jogging, thinking it's only my ego that's bruised. False. About 10 steps away I double over, thinking I'm going to throw up. You know that feeling when you jam your finger? I feel like I've just jammed my whole body. I take a minute to make sure I didn't break myself and then we continue on at a slow pace.
Next up: cinderblocks hooked to chains that need to be dragged down one stretch and back the same way. We've trained for this so Brian and I grab our roughly 30lb blocks and take off running. Before you know it we're done and moving on.
I get excited about the next obstacle: pulling down on a rope to raise up a cement block vertically into the air and then lowering it back down. Andre's taught me the best technique for pulling anything weighted with a rope, so I position myself low to the ground and start pulling. This one's done before you know it and I find myself wishing I'd tried the men's block rather than the women's block. Although seeing Brian practically being pulled into the air by the block makes me rethink that.
After a low crawl through dirt under barbed wire we're facing an obstacle that in the end causes more scrapes and bruises than anything else: long-ass tunnels angled up a hill. Brian and I take to the two far left ones, not knowing that those are the two longest tunnels we could have chosen from. They are tight squeezes and really awkward to crawl through. I do my best to just haul balls through it, knowing it's going to hurt more the longer I'm in there. I swear it conjures up memories of my birth when I finally squeeze my way out of those hellish tunnels and into the glaringly bright sunlight. I help Brian out of his tunnel, we spend a moment bitching, and start walking towards a steep, rocky hill. Brian seems to have no problem but it's here that I start hearing myself complaining, bordering on whining. I can hear myself and I'm trying to stop but it's as if I have no control over what's coming out of my mouth. Bitter disappointment at myself and my attitude flood my thoughts and blind me from what's important: having fun with a good friend.
We approach an obstacle that I aced at my first Spartan and failed at my second: the traverse wall. It's a long wooden wall with narrow, rectangle foot and hand holds that are at all different angles. You cannot fall and you can't grab the top or it's 30 burpees for you. I walk back and forth amongst the different walls, watching athletes and sizing up the holds. I decide on a wall down at the end where I'm basically shielded from the sun shining in my eyes. Brian's already fallen off of his and is in the process of his burpees when I start my wall. I use a different tactic than the last time, gripping the sides of the holds most of the time rather than the tops of them, pulling inward to hold myself close to the wall. I carefully step my left leg out to the next foot hold, then, making sure my hand holds are secure, I reach my left leg past that hold and over to the next one, allowing my right leg to be able to move to that next hold. I try to tune out all the noises, shouts, bells, and grunts around me and focus solely on what I'm doing and any minute shifts in my body position and weight that might make me fall. I start shaking about 3 holds away from the bell you have to ring, signaling that you've reached the end and at the shouted advice of Brian, reach out as far as I can and hit that bell before my body has the chance to fall. I think I shake for the next 15 minutes or so, just from adrenaline alone.
Despite my success, I'm still not feeling it. I have no energy left, can definitely tell that I'm extremely dehydrated and am just thoroughly embarrassed at my performance. Poor Brian is a champ, encouraging me and motivating me with no complaints about having to walk. We round a corner and can see, across a lake, the area where we started. We reach a group of muddy hills with water at the bottom of each of them. The water is a welcome sight and my Brooks Cascadia's hold up like the beasts they are, never letting me lose any traction or slip going up those hills. I find myself wishing I could just stay in that water, hang out there for the rest of the afternoon. Alas, that's not possible so I grudgingly leave the cool water as we reach the end of the hills.
We finally come up to an obstacle I knew we'd be facing: the weighted sandbag carry. What I didn't know was that instead of a traditional sandbag, we'd be carrying what is now being called the "Spartan Pancake". It's a round bag, almost pillow shaped and stamped with the Spartan logo.
We don't have to run very far before we hit the monkey bars. I mentally kick myself for not practicing more on the monkey bars that my husband built for me in the backyard. I have terrible grip strength, especially in my left hand so needless to say I'm nervous stepping up to this one. Brian swings himself across while I stop and catch my breath for a second. Then it's go time. I make my way across the metal structure, rung by rung, feeling like my left hand is going to slip and I'm going to fall every time I'm swinging with my right hand. But I make it across, do a mental happy jig and then immediately face the next obstacle. These are wooden poles stuck in the ground at different heights. I'm seeing a good number of people doing burpees on this one so I'm careful when stepping but it looks like my balance is getting better and better. Score.
At this point Brian and I are running low on energy so we're both grateful for the next obstacle: water. There are large, black floating boxes in a pond that you have to Free Willy your way over. The first one I don't push off the bottom of the pond hard enough and almost slide back into the water, but manage to make it over. The second one you actually have to go under, which feels Ah-mazing. The third one is over again, this time the water is deeper so Brian goes over first, then holds his hand out for me to grab incase I have trouble getting over. I feel quite beluga whale-ish, sliding on my stomach, but I make it across and so I'm cool with that. I don't realize until we're done that you actually have to do burpees if you happen to slide back into the water without making it over the boxes and I see some poor bastard off to the side doing just that. Sorry buddy.
We get to the obligatory cargo net climb, a staple in any obstacle race. No problems here.
We trudge through creek after creek, stream after stream, until we come up to something new: log hurdles. These hurdles are as high as my neck and are fashioned out of logs (hence the name, log hurdles). The volunteer takes his job real serious at this one, yelling at all of us to not stop, keep running, but not in a motivating way. It's more of a "I've been giving a minuscule amount of power over you and I'm going to use that power to be a dick" type of yelling. I snort as I hear Brian grumble under his breath for the dude to shut up and then take a running leap at the hurdles. I hit it smack in my stomach, curling my arms around it just as I start to rotate underneath it. Wrong way! I start to kip myself back and forth until I have enough momentum to swing myself up and over the hurdle. One down, 2 to go. The second is fine, and the third I start the same way only I misjudge the distance to the ground I guess. I flip over and land weird, causing my body to go flying out and I eat it rowdy style. Brian is cracking up and I immediately get up and start jogging, thinking it's only my ego that's bruised. False. About 10 steps away I double over, thinking I'm going to throw up. You know that feeling when you jam your finger? I feel like I've just jammed my whole body. I take a minute to make sure I didn't break myself and then we continue on at a slow pace.
Next up: cinderblocks hooked to chains that need to be dragged down one stretch and back the same way. We've trained for this so Brian and I grab our roughly 30lb blocks and take off running. Before you know it we're done and moving on.
After a low crawl through dirt under barbed wire we're facing an obstacle that in the end causes more scrapes and bruises than anything else: long-ass tunnels angled up a hill. Brian and I take to the two far left ones, not knowing that those are the two longest tunnels we could have chosen from. They are tight squeezes and really awkward to crawl through. I do my best to just haul balls through it, knowing it's going to hurt more the longer I'm in there. I swear it conjures up memories of my birth when I finally squeeze my way out of those hellish tunnels and into the glaringly bright sunlight. I help Brian out of his tunnel, we spend a moment bitching, and start walking towards a steep, rocky hill. Brian seems to have no problem but it's here that I start hearing myself complaining, bordering on whining. I can hear myself and I'm trying to stop but it's as if I have no control over what's coming out of my mouth. Bitter disappointment at myself and my attitude flood my thoughts and blind me from what's important: having fun with a good friend.
We approach an obstacle that I aced at my first Spartan and failed at my second: the traverse wall. It's a long wooden wall with narrow, rectangle foot and hand holds that are at all different angles. You cannot fall and you can't grab the top or it's 30 burpees for you. I walk back and forth amongst the different walls, watching athletes and sizing up the holds. I decide on a wall down at the end where I'm basically shielded from the sun shining in my eyes. Brian's already fallen off of his and is in the process of his burpees when I start my wall. I use a different tactic than the last time, gripping the sides of the holds most of the time rather than the tops of them, pulling inward to hold myself close to the wall. I carefully step my left leg out to the next foot hold, then, making sure my hand holds are secure, I reach my left leg past that hold and over to the next one, allowing my right leg to be able to move to that next hold. I try to tune out all the noises, shouts, bells, and grunts around me and focus solely on what I'm doing and any minute shifts in my body position and weight that might make me fall. I start shaking about 3 holds away from the bell you have to ring, signaling that you've reached the end and at the shouted advice of Brian, reach out as far as I can and hit that bell before my body has the chance to fall. I think I shake for the next 15 minutes or so, just from adrenaline alone.
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| Daniel at the hills, loooooong before we ever get there. |
We finally come up to an obstacle I knew we'd be facing: the weighted sandbag carry. What I didn't know was that instead of a traditional sandbag, we'd be carrying what is now being called the "Spartan Pancake". It's a round bag, almost pillow shaped and stamped with the Spartan logo.
I grab mine, Brian grabs his and we huff and puff up a hill while carrying our "pancakes". By the time we reach the top I'm over carrying this thing. I take the turn to go back and break into a jog the whole way down, throwing my pancake into the pile as soon as I reach it.
We're coming into the home stretch when we reach the tire flip. This tire probably didn't even weigh half as much as the tire from Metro Dash, which was 180 lbs so this went really easily. 4 flips total and we move to the next obstacle which is one of two that I'm worried about: the rope climb. Now, for the record, I can climb a rope like no one's business. I enjoy it and do it as often as I can. However, I'm exhausted, shaky, and the ropes are thinner than I'm used to and covered in mud. Brian goes first, making it up to the second to top knot on the rope before having to call it quits-the bell at the top was just too far to reach.
He starts his burpees as I start my climb. It starts off well, although I'm taking my time, making sure I'm steady and have a good grip before moving to the next knot. I get to a point where the rope does a kind of Y-shaped split towards the top so I cinch my hand in there really tightly, hoping that'll give me leverage to keep pulling myself up.
Unfortunately it's a no-go. I try and try but I just can't get to the next knot so it is with frustration and disappointment that I slide back down the rope and head over to start my first set of burpees for the entire race. Every time I hear that bell being rung while I'm struggling through my burpees is like a slap in the face.
I get through my burpees and we're immediately at our next obstacle, the fire jump. I probably should actually call it the "Smoke with a few small flames"jump. Brian leaps over it like a little kid and I just jump high enough to clear it.
We balance across a log over water and reach the other obstacle I was worried about: the javelin throw. I've missed this in each Spartan I've run. My problem is that I can't throw or catch for the life of me. Seriously. People always think I'm exaggerating until they see me try. Andre' tried to teach me the proper technique in our last session so I mentally run through what I'm supposed to do as we approach the obstacle area. There are javelins laid out on the ground, wooden sticks with spears at the end. About 20 feet away are rectangles of hay tied up on poles that you are supposed to throw the javelin at. The first Spartan we just had to hit the hay, however this go around we are supposed to actually make it stick in the hay. I hesitantly pick up my javelin, position myself, take the little side step thing that Andre' taught me and throw. It sails through the air actually pretty straight, but just off to the side of the hay. I resign myself to the next 30 burpees and get going on them.
It's here though that we get a nice surprise: Daniel standing at the partition separating the spectators from the runners, cheering us along. Behind him is Bexar, taking pictures. I steal a sip of water from Daniel's water bottle and we head to the next obstacle: crossing a pond to an angled wall with ropes hanging on it to pull yourself up. Daniel yells at us to keep our hands above the water while we wade through the water to keep our hands dry so we do. I'm not concerned about this one though, as I've never had problems with it before. Brian heads up first, using the technique most people use of using their feet to climb up. I prefer a different technique; I grab the rope, position myself on my shins and just pull myself up. That way I don't risk my feet sliding out from underneath me and smashing my face. Oh, did I mention this wall is coated in slippery soap? No? Well it's covered in soap. I drag myself up, over and we're done.
It's now that we face the most grueling, painful and exhausting obstacle of the day. It's the barbed wire crawl-you crawl under barbed wire and over dirt, mud, and sometimes rocks. They've been getting progressively longer at Spartans and today it's looking like a beast. I tried looking for the end but all I see is it winding around, going up a couple of inclines, a few deeper mud areas, and more curves. I literally can't see the end from where I'm standing. Looking down, I see everyone else throwing away the notion of crawling and just rolling their way through it. Brian and I look at each other, decide to do the same and bend down to take our turn. It's a blur of mud, dirt, wire, shouts, and one memorable stab from a barb into my palm when I get careless and raise my hand too high while rolling. I start alternating crawling in areas where I can and rolling, just to change things up. The dips into the water trenches are a welcome change and at one point I comment to Brian how I'll just hang out here and they can come and get me later. We make our way up a little hill then slide on our stomachs down into the awaiting water at the bottom. Towards the end mud has gotten into my contacts, making everything hazy and hard to see. I hear Daniel shouting encouragement, that we're almost done and just keep rolling. After what feels like eternity we reach the end and as we crawl our way out, we're facing our final obstacle: big, burly guys with those big padded Q-tip looking things from American Gladiator. We are supposed to run through them to the finish line and they're supposed to block us, hit us with their sticks and do what they can to slow us down. They see me and must take pity on me because I get just a few taps but Brian charges them and almost gets knocked on his ass.
I don't know if I've ever been so glad to cross a finish line. I make a beeline towards the people handing out our "free" Spartan shirts and grab the first one they hand to me, wiping the mud out of my eyes the best I can. The rest of our time there is a blur and I don't really remember much. I remember getting my "free" beer, hitting up the shower area (a metal structure with about 40 hoses and buckets with body soap. A nice change from the typical fire truck with one hose spraying everyone crowded around it.), and signing our names on the Spartan Wall.
I'm really proud of both of the guys, they did a great job. Daniel came in 36th out of over 300 people in our wave, AND was very excited to have beat that douche we were near at the starting line. I couldn't have gotten through this race without Brian's unfailing patience and encouragement. I'm unhappy with how I felt throughout the race and my mental wall I couldn't get past. However, I am happy that I only failed on 2 obstacles, which is a record for me at Spartan. I'm going to work really hard to become a better and faster runner so that I'll be able to keep up with BOTH the guys at our next race.
The course came out to 5.7 miles apparently, and we finished in a little under 2 hours and 10 minutes, Daniel in 1 hour 24 minutes. This was a great race overall, and I liked the addition of the few obstacles I hadn't encountered before. If you want a chance to see what the course actually looked like, check out this guy's video's: he used a GoPro camera while running the course and posted it to YouTube.
We're coming into the home stretch when we reach the tire flip. This tire probably didn't even weigh half as much as the tire from Metro Dash, which was 180 lbs so this went really easily. 4 flips total and we move to the next obstacle which is one of two that I'm worried about: the rope climb. Now, for the record, I can climb a rope like no one's business. I enjoy it and do it as often as I can. However, I'm exhausted, shaky, and the ropes are thinner than I'm used to and covered in mud. Brian goes first, making it up to the second to top knot on the rope before having to call it quits-the bell at the top was just too far to reach.
He starts his burpees as I start my climb. It starts off well, although I'm taking my time, making sure I'm steady and have a good grip before moving to the next knot. I get to a point where the rope does a kind of Y-shaped split towards the top so I cinch my hand in there really tightly, hoping that'll give me leverage to keep pulling myself up.
Unfortunately it's a no-go. I try and try but I just can't get to the next knot so it is with frustration and disappointment that I slide back down the rope and head over to start my first set of burpees for the entire race. Every time I hear that bell being rung while I'm struggling through my burpees is like a slap in the face.
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| Bitter, party of one. |
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| Daniel |
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| Brian |
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| Me (in case you weren't sure) |
We balance across a log over water and reach the other obstacle I was worried about: the javelin throw. I've missed this in each Spartan I've run. My problem is that I can't throw or catch for the life of me. Seriously. People always think I'm exaggerating until they see me try. Andre' tried to teach me the proper technique in our last session so I mentally run through what I'm supposed to do as we approach the obstacle area. There are javelins laid out on the ground, wooden sticks with spears at the end. About 20 feet away are rectangles of hay tied up on poles that you are supposed to throw the javelin at. The first Spartan we just had to hit the hay, however this go around we are supposed to actually make it stick in the hay. I hesitantly pick up my javelin, position myself, take the little side step thing that Andre' taught me and throw. It sails through the air actually pretty straight, but just off to the side of the hay. I resign myself to the next 30 burpees and get going on them.
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| What, me? Tired? Naw....(if you look you can see my javelin next to the hay) |
It's here though that we get a nice surprise: Daniel standing at the partition separating the spectators from the runners, cheering us along. Behind him is Bexar, taking pictures. I steal a sip of water from Daniel's water bottle and we head to the next obstacle: crossing a pond to an angled wall with ropes hanging on it to pull yourself up. Daniel yells at us to keep our hands above the water while we wade through the water to keep our hands dry so we do. I'm not concerned about this one though, as I've never had problems with it before. Brian heads up first, using the technique most people use of using their feet to climb up. I prefer a different technique; I grab the rope, position myself on my shins and just pull myself up. That way I don't risk my feet sliding out from underneath me and smashing my face. Oh, did I mention this wall is coated in slippery soap? No? Well it's covered in soap. I drag myself up, over and we're done.
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| Holy crap, this thing keeps going?! |
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| Brian is already staring down those gladiators |
I don't know if I've ever been so glad to cross a finish line. I make a beeline towards the people handing out our "free" Spartan shirts and grab the first one they hand to me, wiping the mud out of my eyes the best I can. The rest of our time there is a blur and I don't really remember much. I remember getting my "free" beer, hitting up the shower area (a metal structure with about 40 hoses and buckets with body soap. A nice change from the typical fire truck with one hose spraying everyone crowded around it.), and signing our names on the Spartan Wall.
I'm really proud of both of the guys, they did a great job. Daniel came in 36th out of over 300 people in our wave, AND was very excited to have beat that douche we were near at the starting line. I couldn't have gotten through this race without Brian's unfailing patience and encouragement. I'm unhappy with how I felt throughout the race and my mental wall I couldn't get past. However, I am happy that I only failed on 2 obstacles, which is a record for me at Spartan. I'm going to work really hard to become a better and faster runner so that I'll be able to keep up with BOTH the guys at our next race.
The course came out to 5.7 miles apparently, and we finished in a little under 2 hours and 10 minutes, Daniel in 1 hour 24 minutes. This was a great race overall, and I liked the addition of the few obstacles I hadn't encountered before. If you want a chance to see what the course actually looked like, check out this guy's video's: he used a GoPro camera while running the course and posted it to YouTube.
Spartan Sprint-Part One
Spartan Sprint-Part Two
Spartan Sprint-Part 3
Okay, now I am completely terrified for my race in less than 2 weeks. I will just aim to finish the race with as few burpees as possible and hopefully not throwing up from fear/exhaustion!
ReplyDeleteJenn
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ReplyDeleteRound Bag