Atlanta Dog Jog

Hello, everyone! My name is Nikki and I'm guest pawsting here today!! :)

Last year, my human and I ran the Atlanta Dog Jog in Piedmont Park, and my first 5k race EVER! You see, my human runs this races all the time and frankly, as much as I love her, I think she's a little crazy. I much rather prefer taking naps and chowing down on food. Like any dog, I enjoy my time outside, but long walks were never for me. My long cold-weather coat makes Hotlanta unbearable for me, so I'd much rather curl up on my human's bed in the nice air conditioning.

I used to be a very lazy puppy and did not like walking around the block too much. Then my human and I moved to a place with a very nice lake and many ducks! So we started walking around it each night and taking longer and longer walks. My human even noticed that I was trotting the whole time! Before long, she started talking about this Dog Jog and it made my tail wag with excitement! Me, running with my runner human?!? Why, that's pawsatively awesome!

A few months ago, I went out to run with my human. She's faster than me, so I just strolled and took in the sights and smells with her boyfriend and my buddy, Chris Davis. I stopped many times during our walk and said I couldn't go further, but he gave me pep talks along the way to keep me going. I hear he gives humans the same thing during their races.

In the days leading up to the race, my human gave me a haircut so I'd be cool and look cool during the run. I love my human's hair cuts! She says they look funny, but I love prancing around to show them off. :P

When we got to the park, it was full of news sights and smells! I loved it as I had never been there before!! I wanted to check out everything and greet everybody! But then things started to get ruff when I wanted to go back home and my human said no. I was a bit nervous and confused. A bunch of dogs lined up with their humans and they took off running!

Um...pardon me, but what are we doing? Oh! That was the short race?? Then why weren't we with them? Oh no...we are running the longer race!!! A couple of little dogs went by in a carriage pushed by their human. I looked to mine, "why don't we have one of those?".

So then our group lined up with our humans and we took off running! My human did a good job of keeping up with me and would slow down to walk with me when I was getting tired and needed a rest. She'd stop underneath trees so we could catch our breath and give me some water. Some Great Danes passed us and I looked to her to ask if we could ride them.

We ran along and across the field, we saw the pacing car! It stayed in the back and made sure no racers were behind it. My human told me it was coming and we needed to hurry up, but I wondered why we couldn't ride that.

Then we started hearing music and things looked familiar! My human said "Look, Nikki, we are at the end of the race! You always need to run to the finish, so let's run again!!". Ok, silly human, I will run again... just as long as this is the end of the race! So we ran... and ran some more... and some more... and I started getting further and further behind my human. All of the tents and music were still behind us and the music was fading! My human stopped and looked confused - it wasn't the end of the race at all! We had one more loop to go.

She giggled and apologized, but I don't think she was that sorry. We stopped to walk for a bit and then ran when we actually saw the finish line for real.

I was a tired but happy puppy at the finish. Everyone congratulated me and they gave me a blue bandanna for finishing! I also got lots of treats and water. Then we loaded up in the car and I slept for the rest of the day at home. Life is ruff for a running puppy! ;)

2015 Spartan Sprint

This was my 3rd year running the Spartan Sprint. I was a bit nervous because I have a new injury in my left ankle (tendonitis) and shin splints on both legs. The ankle injury has prevented me from training for a number of weeks, however, I couldn't miss the Family Reunion. My physical therapist told me to take it easy and we discussed on whether I'd be going or not.

Since it was so back and forth leading up to it, the butterflies hit late. I began searching for a running buddy and wasn't able to find one running at my scheduled time. All of my teammates were running at 10:45am, so I got my time switched to then. With my team beside me, some of my nervousness disappeared.

We arrived early Saturday morning to the venue. In the festival area, I can see right off the bat 4 height obstacles. My knees shook. Nope, I'm doing better this year - I'm not letting that fear get to me. The longer I sat there, the more they mocked me. One of the elites finished and said it was the hardest course he had ever done. It took them twice as long to run this one than previous years. All my eyes could focus on was the blood running down his knees. The towering obstacles closed in....

I freaked out. There's no way I can do this. It's harder than ever before. So many high obstacles. I'm not in shape. My ankle isn't doing well. There's no way. It's sooo cold out there, some of the obstacles have ice on them. I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared.

Chris gave me a pep talk and the sun came out. I shed my extra clothes and walked with my head held high to the start line. I could do this - as was said in the send-off, pep talk speech: "I AM A SPARTAN!!!". Plus, I had my teammates with me, so all would be well.

My adrenaline was running through my body after I climbed over the wall to get into the gate. I looked around for my teammates and only saw a few. Where was everyone? No, I can't go alone...

I finally found a small group of people I knew and we took off. Not surprising, my ankle didn't hold up long and I was unable to run after only a short bit. I struggled to keep up with team and at one point when I looked up, they were gone. There was one other left - a person I had only met briefly at the group picnic in November. He struggled getting over walls like I did and I wasn't about to leave him behind at the obstacles.

We kept pace with a trainer and her group of women for a bit and knocked obstacles out, one after another. 6 - 7 - 8 foot walls, traverse wall... and NO burpees. Mile 1 down and still going strong - maybe this won't be so bad after all.

I really liked the trainer. She was patient and had different ways of explaining things to help getting up, over and through the obstacles. We all helped each other. High 5's were rampant. However, coming down the 8ft wall, I banged into the wall and felt it in my knee. It was still early on and I knew that would hinder me later on.

Although I was happy with our progress, my knee and ankle slowed me down. The ladies ran off and I told them we'd meet them at the next obstacle, but we never did catch back up to them.

My mind began to tire as my body did. The fear of heights, even though conquerable, was exhausting. We came upon the inverse wall and a tough military guy was able to lift me to the top. I looked down and my mind froze. "TOO HIGH!!!" it screamed. I saw pictures of splinters and twisted ankles in my head if I slid down. I shook my head and came back down. My buddy and the military guy said it was just an illusion and all I would need to do was swing my legs over and slide down, My buddy would catch me at the bottom. We tried again... and once again, the wall in my mind came up. 1st burpees of the day because my mind closed up on me. And after that, it wasn't the same.  I had to fight it with each height-based obstacle that came up after that.

More burpees followed with other obstacles. I swear we spent an hour at the bucket carry. Carry a 5 gallon bucket filled with rocks up a hill, around and back down. Pick it up, walk 15 steps, drop it, rest 10 seconds, pick back up and continue. I was spent.

More pulling obstacles, picking up/carrying heavy things. My arms were spent. I lost count of burpees and my body hurt so bad already so burpees felt like hell. Either they killed my arms or if my arms went out, I fell on my bruised knees. Sets of 5 burpees became sets of 1.

At the spear throw, I noticed the 12:30 heat had caught up to us. We had started at 10:45am. Longer than the 2 hours it normally took me to do a Spartan. It was like we had entered a time warp. I had no idea how much time had passed or what time it was. My watch was tightly secured underneath my muddy compression gear.

It seemed like whoever built the course was out to get people who had a fear of heights... or cure them (depending on your point of view). There was another wall with nylon netting to climb over - maybe 12 -16ft high. My buddy asked if I needed help. I told him to go first, wait on the other side and just be there in case I needed him. I wasn't happy about it (and have the picture to prove it: below), but it was the first time I made it up and over without any real assistance. Regardless, it still drained me.

Finally, we saw the 4 mile sign. We knew the race was 4.7 miles, so we were in the home stretch now. The last .7 miles were the longest I have ever known. One obstacle after another - all involving height, too. My resolve and courage were waning. It's amazing how much energy it drains just to force your mind to do something that it really doesn't want to do.

Burpees became a constant. My knees and ankle were in excruciating pain. I was worn out, drained, exhausted - beyond where I had ever been before. But wait -- there was the finish! And not a moment too soon. One more obstacle, turn right, one huge A-frame to climb over, fire jump and done. Two obstacles, I can do this.

But no, it was only an illusion. The path didn't turn right - it continued. My spirits sank. We had 4+ obstacles to go  - 3 involving heights. The pain welled up, throbbing throughout my whole body. I couldn't think of anything else but the pain. That's when the thought first hit. Once it came to me, it gained momentum like a steam train and I couldn't shake it:

"I can't do this"

I fought with the little bit of spirit I had. No, I had to finish - everyone was counting on me. I couldn't go back and tell them I quit. I don't quit, no, not me.

More burpees followed. I slipped in the mud, banging my knees on the ground. The pain swelled. I looked up at the obstacles that still waited before me. The thought raised its voice. "I can't do this. I'm done. I don't want to go up another bloody obstacle. I'm scared, I'm tired, I'm done".

I looked at my hands. One had the name of my running buddy, Easton, written on it. The other had "22" written on it, in honor of the 22 soldiers who commit suicide everyday. I wrote both on my hands to inspire me. The tears started to fall as I apologized to them, "Sorry I'm just not strong enough".

I looked up. Straight across was a hole in the gate. All I would need to do was stand up, walk out of it and all of this would be over. They would understand. This was a hard course to begin with and I came into it injured. No one would blame me. All I would need to do is walk out and it would be done.

I then looked over to my buddy who was as beaten as I was. What would he do if I left? Would he even finish? I'd like to stay, but I've got nothing left... My strength gave out during the burpee and my head fell into the mud.

A volunteer walking nearby stopped to ask if I was alright. I answered a muffled "no" from the mudpile. He bent down and asked if I was hurt.

I laughed. "No more than normal."

After determining that I didn't need medical attention, he asked what was wrong. I started to cry again, going through everything and my fear of heights and just telling how much I hurt.

"I've been working these things for years. I know when people are done and are ready to quit. You aren't. You don't have that look in your eyes yet."

Because it's delirium you are seeing. I have no idea what time it is, let alone what day it is. I'm tired, in pain, afraid, cold, wet, muddy and wondering if I'll ever feel normal again. The pain was excruciating and overwhelming.

"Who are you?", he asked me.

"I'm a Spartan", I replied. And Spartans don't quit.

He memorized my number and said he'd look for me at the end, even if it took 6 more hours, I would finish.

"Promise me you'll finish". One promise I hesitated to give because I didn't know if I could. But one more person not to let down.

"I promise."  And we took off again.

The fireman's pole was closed off, so I got a little reprieve.

I saw a few more teammates as we got closer to the finish. It was nice to see them, although it shocked me when one said she started at 2pm. "It's 2pm?!?!" I exclaimed incredulously. She was surprised and said "No, it's more like 4:30 now". No way... it can't be. I looked towards the sun and sure enough, it was on it's way down to set soon. We needed to finish - and soon.

One more wall. Then the A-frame.

Going up it, it began to wobble. My courage waivered. "I can't..."

"Just one at a time", my partner said.

Slowly, but surely, I made it over the A-frame. Not as confidently as I wanted, however, the people at the finish line could see me now. Seems I scaled it better than I thought.

Now just fire jump and a water pit, then I'm done.

I ran up to the fire jump and it was HOT. I could feel the heat on my face. What if I miss? It's pretty wide...

NO. I'm almost finished. I've come this far.

I backed up as far as I could and ran as much as I could towards it and just leaped. One more down.

Water pit I knew to be careful because didn't know how deep, so I slipped in it and walked through it. I could finally see the people at the end and Chris waiting for me.

I looked up and smiled at him. It was all I needed to propel my body forward into the finish.

-----

We finished in 6 and a 1/2 hours. I don't know what happened to the time or where it went. The race not only messed me up physically, but mentally. It was the longest race I've done to date, and underestimating it, I didn't bring extra water or food with me. I also learned that once your brain begins to tire and shut down, then that's it - it's extremely hard to shake it after that. I noticed that after losing my confidence at the reverse wall.

Not only was the race hard, but it was hard to write about. The race was back in March, it's now almost September. It has taken me about 6th months to write. I pride myself on being a strong person and this race nearly broke me. There was only one other race that I thought about quitting and it was shortly before this one. It's not something I do... at all. I used to say (jokingly...mostly) that I sign up for the GA Spartan race because I love the camaraderie and after awhile, forget about the pain. However, there's some truth in that too - after awhile you DO forget about the pain. This time was different...  I still remember. It's still there in my memory and sometimes in my dreams at night. I haven't run an OCR since. I've become a little afraid of them, to be honest.

One of these days, I'll have to get over that and get back out there. I guess it's like having a car crash, that you need to get back out there, as soon as possible. However, my body just isn't in shape where it needs to be to accomplish that safely right now.  I plan to get back into racing (normal road races) very slowly and have fun OCR's, like the inflatable ones, scheduled for now.

I'll get there... one day. That Trifecta will just need to wait a little bit longer.

The Peachtree Road Race 2014

I have just completed my 4th Peachtree Road Race over the weekend. My calves still feel the burn of the 6.2 miles.

The first time I ran this race (2001?), I wasn't impressed. It was disorganized and it took forever to start running at the beginning - there were just too many people. People who just ran once a year, dusting of their running shoes a week before the race. I called them "fair weather" runners. They wouldn't run in the rain, the snow or even the heat. They weren't real runners like me.

13 years later, just coming off an injury and dealing with apartment issues (and yes, the heat too), I didn't have time to practice before the race. In a moment of irony, I realized I had become one of the runners I used to roll my eyes at. I can knock off a 5k easy without practice and without breaking much of a sweat. Not so with a 10k. I knew this one was going to hurt, however, I just prayed it didn't hurt the areas of my leg that I had just worked so hard to repair. I knew I had to be careful with this one.

In the last two years of running the Peachtree, I must say I love the celebratory atmosphere. It's like a giant parade, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I feel like a celebrity running down and giving High-5's to people cheering on the side of the road. I even got to High-5 three people dressed in cow costumes from Chick-fil-a.

I would have liked to run the full race non-stop, but that just wasn't in the cards (non-realistic). It was more important that I finish with my previously-injured leg intact. After the 3 mile mark, my body started to lose steam. If I had to stop, I still made sure I was moving - pump those arms and make long strides.

The last mile of the race was covered in people standing shoulder-to-shoulder, cheering. It really helped me get a 2nd (or 3rd or 4th by that time) wind. My Ipod said I had 800 meters to go, but I knew that was wrong. One Peachtree volunteer said it was a half-mile and I recognized some landmarks on the way to Piedmont Park. People around me would run slower and slower before slumping into a walk and then a shuffle. As I ran past them, I'd say "Great job, c'mon now, we're only 1/2 mile out. Almost there! You HAVE to run the finish!". It would get them to smile and laugh, saying "okay, okay" and they'd start running again. One thanked me and one patted me on the shoulder. Little did they know, I was in the same boat and wanted to stop at every step. However, after just telling them that we were almost done, I couldn't very well start walking, now could I? ;)

I finish in an hour and 19 minutes, which is 10 minutes slower than my usual 10k. Not bad at all, I think I'll take it.

The running trails call my name. I need to get back out there. Before the Peachtree, I started seeing ads for the Triple Peach medal. To earn it, one must run 3 races - the Peachtree Road Race (10k), the Atl 10 Miler and the Atlanta Half Marathon. I started thinking the Triple Peach Medal would look good on my wall...

One race down. Two more to go.

The Biggest Loser Six Flags 5k

Week 5's race brought me to Six Flags Over Atlanta, the birthplace of my love of coasters and the home of the CHOA Coasterthon. The Biggest Loser is a cause near and dear to Chris' heart because he helps countless people finish Spartan Races with them, so I was more than happy to sign up for the race when he asked me. It was just another 5k for me, but for many people running this race, it was their first. Their first 5k. Their first race. Their first time stepping outside of their comfort zone.

I had been having problems with my hamstring seizing up on me, so at the start line, I was silently praying that it would not give me any trouble. It was the first race unveiling my Ironman race shirt. There was another guy in heat before me wearing one as well and I think I scared him when I saw him multiple times that day, even when we were riding the coasters afterwards.

Six Flags actually let us run inside the park and it was awesome running through an otherwise empty park with the colossal coasters gazing down upon us as we ran. My bottom gave me some trouble as there were some steep hills inside the park. Even so, I was disappointed in my time of 36 minutes.

As I rounded the outside of the park, I knew I was heading back in. I could hear the music and the MC. SHOWTIME. My body kicked into high gear, as it's used to doing. As my legs kicked with everything they had and I felt the wind on my face, I realized I could not have stopped this process, even if I tried. My body knows where that finish line is and loves to finish strong. I got cheers from spectators and even a group of policemen on their bikes - "Look at that kick!", "What a strong finish!", "Go get 'em, Irongirl!". I LIVE for those moments. Even though I couldn't reply to them, I heard them loud and clear. They were oxygen to my fire.

Once I finished, I did something I never do - I went back and waited for other finishers. Chris was still out there and would be finishing as well. As I relaxed and enjoyed eating my post-race meal (a banana and a bottle of water), I saw a woman that I saw during the race. Sometimes I'd pass her, sometimes she'd pass me, so I congratulated on her finishing.

She smiled and said "I'd have to say, you are the master of those hills. I can handle the downhills, but you just zip right up those hills. How do you do it?".

I smiled in return, "Just look down". My HS track coaches would have loved to hear this - they are the ones who taught me how to do that.

"That's it?", she asked.

That's it", I said.

Back at the finish line, more people were coming through. More people finishing what they never thought they could do. One old man finished with a "#207" pinned to his chest and he shook the hand of all of the spectators waiting. He wobbled and looked like he might fall, so I kept a watch on him to see if he was okay or if I needed to get someone, however, fortunately a volunteer took his arm and helped him off the course. From his legs I could tell he had emphysema, so he must have lost a lot of weight.

Chris came in shortly after, accompanied by 2 women. I always joke that he's such a ladies' man because the women just flock around him.They hugged him and thanked him for completing the race with them. I waved to him as he came in.

Later we sat down for a post-race snack, and got to talk with some of the TV show participants from the Biggest Loser. Then the older man I saw crossing the finishing line came to sit down with his wife. He had won the 70+ age group division and started telling some of his story. The "#207" he wears on his shirt was the amount of weight he lost. Being able to talk with him was such a delight! He told of his struggles and how he started racing at an older age because he finally could. Then he said that his wife doesn't run with him but he's never alone - in his struggles or his races because God is right beside him. Now, I'm not a religious person, however, hearing his words and listen to him tell his story with tears in eyes touched me in a way that words can never express.

Later, when I was searching on the Biggest Loser website for pictures, I serendipitously found out that I had finished 9th in my age group (out of 32 runners). I've never been in the Top 10 of anything, so it was quite a thrill for me! Imagine what I could do if I was back training full time and injury-free!!! 9th place now, and work on getting even better from here! It made me sooo happy to see that on their page.

This race was bittersweet. My physical therapist says that my body needs a break, telling me my next race should be my last race of the streak... and I'll admit that I could feel it during the run, too. So I will not be making 12 races in 12 weeks. However, at this point, I did complete 5 races in 5 weeks, which took me 5 months to complete last year. That's not too shabby, and who knows, if I take a week off, maybe I can continue for another 5 weeks after that.

The Fight for Air Climb

So a little background on "12 Races in 12 Weeks" - I had taken a look at my schedule and noticed that I had tentatively planned 12 races back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back in 12 weeks, one scheduled after the other. It was overly ambitious normally and especially so because I'm currently going through physical therapy to repair my sprained bottom and my lower left leg from old injuries. My physical therapist laughed when I told him what I wanted to do, and gave me the green light (although... to be fair, he gave me the green light to 4 races in a row. haha)

The Fight for Air Climb  was a vertical race up 51 flights of stairs in one of the tallest buildings in downtown Atlanta - 191 Peachtree Tower. It was a fundraiser for the American Lung Association and each participant had to raise $100 to be able to join. I came across it while looking for more races. It was unusual, unique and sounded like quite a challenge.

I'm not going to lie - it intimidated me greatly and every time I'd see that building, I swore I saw it mocking me, taunting me. I had dinner at the Sundial next to it and every time we'd pass around to see it eye-to-eye, it would just loom before me, bathed in an ominous blue light, almost challenging me. "You can't survive climbing me", it would say.

However, race day came and 600 of us lined up at the bottom, waiting to take on the building - one at a time. It was unusually cold and rainy and we shivered outside. We weren't in a hurry to start the climb, but wanted to get inside to warm up. My friend Jennifer signed up to climb with me and I was thankful to have someone with me.

They let us start 10 seconds between each runner. I let her go first and caught up to her. The first water stop was on level 8 and we were already huffing and puffing by then. She unfortunately started feeling a little sick and needed to stop, although told me to finish for her. 

After the EMT came to escort her back down, I continued. There were 3 more water stops along the way and I stopped at all of them. They had volunteers on random levels to cheer you on and help you keep going. I was wearing my Ironman shirt and they all seemed to like it.

I also made sure to stop on random levels when I felt my breathing and my heart rate speed up. Just 5 to 10 seconds and then I was off again. I saw too many people nearly collapsing in the stairwell, unable to take another step because they kept going and didn't take breaks to regulate their breathing or heart rate. It was musty in there and the air quality wasn't all that great.

The floor seemed to have 4 sets of stairs in between each and then only had two sets of stairs between each the higher I got. They passed quickly, but it was in no way easy.

Finally, we have two more to go. I even said breathlessly to the volunteer, "Only two more?". My legs were screaming, I was running low. They served Powerade at the water stations below and I took one, thinking the sugar would help me. It did not and I felt nauseous for some of the climb after that. So my body was set on two more floors and not a step more.

I hit the 49th floor and there was a time clock and lots of people and cheering. I blinked and imagine I look quite perplexed in the picture they just snapped of me. But....we're at 49... not 51? Two of the floors were in the basement, they explained. That's great... but where are my 51? I was geared up for 51 and ready for 2 more!!! 

Regardless, I had finished - 29 minutes, which included the time waiting for the EMT to come help my friend.  I took a break at the top to enjoy the view... or at least all the view I could see. It was pretty foggy up there and at the top, the taunts and intimidation I had felt from the building faded away into the mist down below. Now when I see the building, I can't help but smile at the sight of my new friend.

Many, many thanks go towards the people who donated to help me accomplish this and to the people who cheered me on. :)

Cheating - It's wrong.

In life, in races - there's no place for it. Period.

My old high school track coach used to say "If you cheat on running corners, you will cheat on your taxes, you will cheat on your wife, you will cheat in life". The smart ass I am, I used to say "What if I don't have a wife?" with a smirk and then he'd go on to say "cheat on your husband, cat, fish...". Humor aside, he had a point and his words have always stayed with me.

During my last Spartan race, I even saw a couple of people taking short cuts through the woods, so even though the people in the picture got caught, it's not a new thing... to any race.A picture was released this week from a Spartan race catching a few someones in the act... and is caused a fire storm. Racers were upset and rightfully so. But then, people got upset at them - saying they had no right to judge, that we don't know their story, that they aren't elite racers so it doesn't matter, mind your own business, at least they got off the couch, and so on ad nauseum.

I was appalled. Fortunately, someone else was too and wrote about it. He captured my sentiments exactly.

If you want a participation medal for getting off the couch, make your own. Have our standards dropped so low that we think we need to applaud people for just standing up and getting off their rear ends? Shame on us that we've become such a lazy society that getting out of a seat needs to be celebrated. Let's not stop there! What about waking up on time without hitting the snooze button too many times? (I'd NEVER get that medal). Or going to the bathroom? Or putting food in your mouth? (I'd miss out on this one too -I'm a messy eater). Geezus criminy.Wussification of America indeed. I think the cheaters need their medals taken away from them and I think it's sad most will consider this a controversial statement. Cheaters should stay on the couch, IMO.

Don't get me wrong. I applaud and respect the Spartan race and all of these other OCRs for getting usually sedentary people out and doing something they never thought they could do. People that don't think they are athletic are out there climbing 8 foot walls. That's freaking fantastic! Kudos all the way. Spartans and other OCRs are there to stretch your limits and challenge you in ways you never thought possible. Getting off the couch is the first step and only the first step. By no means do they mean stop there. You also have to have the courage to start and the determination to finish. Get up off the couch and go challenge yourself. Do something you never thought you could do. Their slogan is "Sign up. Show up" - and that doesn't mean to stop at "show up" and expect a medal. "Well... at least he showed up".  No, no, no, NO.

Then today, someone wrote this piece about it and it made me fume. Yet another one of the "how dare you judge cheaters" crowd, but this one hit a special nerve. The author went further to say that the people calling the cheaters out were the true bad guys and that it doesn't affect us at all.

Point taken. It doesn't affect me - you are right. My t-shirt and medal have value because of what I placed on them and no one can ever take that away. They are receiving the same t-shirt and medal, however, they have to live with themselves and look at themselves in the mirror every morning. Why does this upset me and others then?

I think because the athletes of the Spartan and other OCRs are, on the whole, extraordinary. It takes something special (and maybe a little crazy... Or okay, a lot crazy) to want to challenge yourself to those types of extremes. It takes a certain kind of courage to stand at that start line even though you are afraid. Everyday people from all walks of life are trying to make their lives better, improve themselves, and challenge themselves beyond their limits. That's not easy to do - that takes a really special person to be able to do that. These are the nicest people I have met and they are readily (and excitingly) willing to welcome you into their newfound OCR family. Strangers help people over walls, they encourage each other, they volunteer their time - they are extraordinary. Amazing stories come out of OCR - people overcoming personal tragedy, people who don't let "disabilities" stop them, people wanting more out of life...

So ask me again why cheating bothers me so much when it doesn't really affect me. I hold my fellow Spartans to a higher standard than most people because I know they ARE extraordinary and those people in that picture didn't meet that standard. I'm a member of GORMR (Georgia Obstacle Course Racers and Mud Runners) and our team is made out of elite racers, racers that have lost 100 lbs or more, racers that run in pain, racers without full use of their limbs, racers without legs and even more inspirational people who encourage me to hold myself to a higher standard. Maybe I'm spoiled by such an awesome team that doesn't represent the OCR community on a whole and if that's the case, then that's sad. Cheating bothers the people who worked hard and completed the task(s) with everything they had... or in some cases, completed without anything left.

It's not only cheating in OCR that's a problem. I've heard of people getting on transit during the Atlanta Peachtree 10k Road Race just after the start and riding to the finish. When I first started running it, they didn't have enough t-shirts for everyone and you had to finish under a certain time to obtain one. They were very coveted and people would stop at nothing to get one.

The writer in the article that made me so mad said that elite runners need to give everyone a break because we're not all elites and basically, that we've all cheated at one time or another. I'm an average runner and far from being elite and not running for points, however, I give 110% out there. I may not be "elite", but don't mistake that and think I'm not "competitive" (even if I am only competing with myself). I may not be able to complete all of the obstacles on my own and do more than my fair share of burpees, but I do every single one of them. The last Spartan I participated in, I was so out of it that I lost count of how many burpees I did, so in order to not skimp, I did extra.  I run races in the rain and even in freezing rain. I've been pushed to my most uncomfortable and wanted to stop but did not. When I couldn't drag a 100+ lb tire by myself, I asked for help. I've run half-marathons in excruciating pain - broken tailbones, sprained bottoms, IT band problems during the whole 13.1 miles. "Just Enough" is never enough for me. Of course it's not easy; it's not meant to be. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it's hard. OCRs and other races have literally taken my blood, sweat and tears. However, I don't think I'd have the sense of pride that I have in my accomplishments if I hadn't sacrificed what I have or did not give 110%. And for the record, you do not speak for me - I have not and will never cheat.

So, yes... I may be a "Spartan Kool-Aid Drinker". It changed my life, introduced me to my OCR family, caused me to face my fears, challenged me in ways I never thought possible, expanded my comfort zone, pushed my limits and I'd never trade that for the world. Doing all the obstacles and all the burpees helped shaped me into who I am and continue to help me with life lessons. I owe a lot to it.

Coddle the cheaters. Give them passes/excuses/what have you. Judge me for calling them out, but I will NOT apologize for holding racers to a higher standard and expecting more from them. Anything less would be an insult to the racers that give everything and don't cut corners, no matter how hard it gets.

We're Spartans. Act like it.

The 2014 Spartan Sprint

It's 12 days away.

Nervousness has been replaced with excitement. It's beginning to feel like a family reunion of sorts and I'm feeding off of everyone's excited energy. It's one of the reasons I love OCR so much - it's a celebration of life with like-minded people. Everyone I've met so far has found this path through struggle or overcoming some big challenge in their lives. All of them have been through "baptism through fire" and it's changed their outlook on life. It's intoxicating to be around people like that. Their attitudes towards life only fuel my own fire.

12 days. I'm pumped. I'm stoked. And I swore I'd never run an OCR again after my first one, the Run for Your Lives Zombie 5k. Now I'm running this one for the 2nd time and am registered for the ROC Race in April, plus with 2 more on the books.

When the race was about a month away, my mind started playing tricks on me. In my dreams at night, the 8 foot wall grew to 30 feet and the top of it was lost in the clouds above. "It's not 30 ft, it's EIGHT", I'd snarl with gritted teeth as I made that wall shrink back down to it's proper size. My mind would remind me of the pain and the fear I felt last year. I remind it that I made it through last year - with a smile. I AM A SPARTAN. Nothing can ever take that away from me.

Before the first "big" road race I ran (the US 10k Classic on my 18th birthday), I had a haircut scheduled a few days just before the race and I did really well on the race. Since then, having a haircut before a big race is almost like a good luck ritual to me. I used to do it before my racing season began, however, since I started running at least one race per month last year, I don't really have a "season" anymore. ;)

Haircut is scheduled for this Saturday. The last one I had was almost a year ago - just before the first time I ran the Georgian Spartan Sprint. Things started feeling real after I scheduled the haircut. This is happening. This is happening SOON.

Madness? THIS. IS. SPARTAAAAAAAA!!!!!!