It was my second ever Spartan Race. There were so many unique things about that. It was a winter race, the first ever offered by Spartan. It was at Greek Peak, a ski resort here in Upstate New York and it was cold. Twelve degrees cold. As I approached the start line, I was able to get a lay of the land. In Spartan racing, you are not given a course map or a guide to the obstacles. This is by design. I am to show and be prepared for anything. Just like in life, you never know what you will encounter, so be ready. As in any Spartan, there are two four foot walls to hop over before getting to the chute. Beyond this we see a hill. This hill. The start line was at the base of the bunny hill.
This did not seem so bad, I could handle it. As with any race, the gun goes off and it is go time. We take off and there are other runners taking off at what appeared to be lighting speed, sprinting up this hill. At 12 degrees outside, and realizing I still, what I then was informed, had three miles to go I settled into my ever humbling power walk, tried to push the competitive urge out of my mind to run, and up I went. I must admit, the sprinters around me pokes that crazy competitive nature of mine, but I held steady. What I would learn after that hill was to the left of that summit was a flattened area followed by this double black diamond ski slope to climb.
That is the summit in the distance way up in center of the picture. I would find half way up that hill that a lot of the early sprinters, now out of breath and stopping may be rethinking their quick out of the gate to start. This race was filled with the notion that just when you thought you were as high as you could go, there was another hill, and another and another. Then, just when you think it is safe and you can finally descend, the descent is through an unmarked tree line between two double black diamonds and is icy which completely debunked the theory that once you hit the top downhill is so much easier. Trek after trek. Up and down. As challenging as it was, something great happens on the hills. Forced to abandon the balls to the wall sprint, gives time to appreciate a few things. There is the view at the top. The majestic view of a beautiful crisp day in the mountains of New York, like this view at the top of the tubing hill that I climbed after a harrowing crawl over ice under barbed wire. This hill looked like victory at the top. The symbolic conquering of so many fears.
There was also the notion during this race, that unlike the treadmill there is not a stop key. I can't just decide I am done in the middle of a treeline between two double black diamond ski slopes. That there is really nowhere to go but forward. There is a certain amount of terror associated with being in that spot, yet a certain amount of accomplishment in getting through it and finally finding the one easy downhill. It came after trekking up an unmarked icy tree line with a sandbag on my shoulder. What awaited at the top was the ability to sit on said sandbag and gloriously ride the slope down to the bottom. Just an amazing ride after 2.5 miles of fight.
So, as I climbed the hills yesterday on the treadmill I was reminded that although it is not the badass balls to the wall flat road sprint I prefer, I realize that sometimes the sprint is just a means to an end. Go hard, go fast, get done. It is the hills where we see the challenge. The hills where we slow down and appreciate the surroundings and realize just what we are made of when quitting is not an option. It reminds me of what can be accomplished when I don't let quitting be an option in other aspects of my life. So many times we search for instant gratification. Let me just pay extra for overnight shipping, I want it now. Let me just drive instead of walk so I can get there fast. Let me play the lottery and I will be rich by Tuesday and not have to work. The reality is in health as in most things, it just doesn't work that way. You have to suffer the challenges and take your time to appreciate every little obstacle overcome. Most importantly taking the time to work the hills means appreciating the beauty that is the journey instead of the disappointment of not being at the destination. So far now I will keep perfecting my hill technique and try to reap the benefits of a hard earned glute and remember at the end of any race as in life there is the glorious moment you get to jump the fire with pizzazz before finding the next hill.
