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.
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