In my mind's eye I can see it all very clearly. The light marbled muted red ringer tee with the white box on the front where my name was written in black Sharpie. There was the corresponding polyester red shorts that made up my horrible gym uniform in junior high. This uniform never seemed big enough to cover all of my childhood fat rolls. There was the stale smelling locker room and the hallway of shower heads we were supposed to walk through on the days of the "full shower" as dictated by our gym teacher. On less strenuous days we were told to "spot shower" which required using these super stiff weird smelling green towels to hit the important parts. All of this produced instant anxiety for this formerly fat child. It was the 80's. Childhood obesity was not an epidemic. So, the simple changing in a locker room full of skinny girls was enough cardio for me, however the class that followed said changing was always the hardest.
In previous posts, I described my complete fail at trying to conquer our several time a year mile and a half run known as The Cooper. Well, there were other times of the year I would emerge from the locker room and be met with an entirely different form of torment. The rope. That thick long brown ragged looking thing that hung from the ceiling that mocked me several times a year all through school. One by one kids would scale up that with some sort of weird super human strength I clearly did not possess. When it was my turn I would slowly go up to the damn thing self conscious in my uniform and hear the murmurings of some of the other students as they were as sure as I was there was no way I could do this. I would give it a weak attempt and then move on. Just let me sit down. Better yet. Skip me. Traumatized for a day, and then putting the rope experience in a box in my mind where I would tuck it away until I was faced with it again. Year after year. Time after time. That rope mocked me over and over again.
I must admit. When I began toying with the notion of Spartan Racing that rope did weigh heavily on my mind. I knew I couldn't do it. I knew I would do 30 burpees when I was faced with it. In. Y first race, I did just that right there on the third baseline at Fenway. I suppose if you have to do burpees the third baseline at Fenway is not all that bad. For my second Spartan Race at Greek Peak in upstate NY, I thought I would embrace the rope burpee experience and put a different spin on my previous failings. I began to call the rope climb "Amy's Burpee Station". It proved to be just that. I must admit though, although I may have felt like a complete badass doing burpees in the snow, a part of me almost felt the rolls of fat that used to exist under that marbled red shirt and polyester shorts when I was 13, as I watched Spartan after Spartan climb and ring the cowbell.
Last night, I had the opportunity to go to a Spartan training class for the first time. I walked into the gym and there it was. The rope. Sleek and black. It was like an updated badass version of the mockery I had experienced so many years ago. I could almost hear it whisper,"we meet again. Oh. And I win". However, I would learn, through my awesome coach, that the rope climb was technical. He broke it down, a step at a time teaching me the Spanish wrap...and then it happened. I climbed that badass rope. Forty-seven years old and I climbed a rope for the first time in my life. Reflecting on that had me come to understand two very important things. First, even two years into this journey to health and fitness there are still old demons that exist in the virtual boxes in my mind that can be slain. Second, I had allowed myself to believe that I would never climb a rope. Self imposed limitation. I am coming to realize my self imposed limitations kept my feet firmly on the ground for decades when the reality is, the view halfway up the badass black rope is so much better than I could have ever imagined. So, as of today I bid a fond farewell to the obstacle formerly known as "Amy's Burpee Station" and dare to dream of ringing that bell at the top of that muddy rope in three weeks because that view will be amazing.
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