As I drove down Interstate 79 on the way from Pittsburgh to Bridgeport, WV, I finally had time to go over the events of the weekend in my head. It had happened. The Chicago Spartan Super. I have trained for two and a half years for this, hip fracture last year notwithstanding. I had convinced a team of four others this was a great idea, three of whom were new to Spartan racing, and terrifyingly set out to complete my longest race yet. After four and a half decades of obesity, this was almost difficult for me to get my head around. In fact, when I registered six months ago it seemed almost ridiculous. Yet here I was, on race day. Looking at the start line with my team.
In that moment, I wore the shield of confidence. I had two years of training at orangetheory under my belt and 85 extra pounds gone. I have achieved a lot in the glow of the orange lights in this amount of time. I had won challenge after challenge by this point, fastest 2000m row, fastest 500m row and I even lift heavier than half of the men. My success has become contagious, until I found myself leading a team of others trying to do the same. They call me Mama Shark because of my unwillingness to back down and now they are crushing it too. I clearly had this. I yelled "AROO" and "I am a Spartan" when asked at the start line. Here I was. Psyched and ready. They had even finally announced the race was 7.5 miles. Shew. I could run that distance too. All set to lead this team to Spartan greatness.
Well, I am here to say...nothing shakes your training and confidence to its very core like a Spartan Race. There was the top of the cargo net vertical wall when the doubt of my ability to truly have this escaped very loudly out of my mouth to my team member,"I so don't have this!" That was at mile one. She talked me through it until I did. There was wading through ankle deep mud through mile 5 when my calf cramped so badly I was paralyzed and yelling in pain. Toward mile 7 there was a full quarter mile of a barbed wire crawl, or in my case roll. Enter more muscle cramps. Rocks to roll over and this just seemed endless. Finally after 7.7 miles we would emerge from the woods into the spectator area with the finish in site. Oh wait. There were 7 more obstacles in that short distance. Yeah. They had said 7.5 miles. Um no. It was 8. These last seven were the hardest of the course. The spinner was difficult as my arms were tired. Enter burpees. The Spear went wide. More burpees. The 20 foot A Frame? Yes a bit of panic at the top four feet from the lens of the race photographer. This was followed by the rope climb that my impossibly muddy shoes just would not grip. I found myself uttering profanity with the burpees, my confidence not only shaken but gone. My whole body was tired. My legs bruised and my shoulders sunburned. Then there it was. The multirig. A series of hanging rings to cross. The second to last obstacle I have only successfully crossed once in a race. I had enough of burpees at that point. I could smell the smoke of the line of fire at the end and I was not going to quit, but at the same time just wanted to be done with no more Godforsaken burpees. Ring after ring. I was hearing my Spartan coach's voice in my head. "Swing back let go, swing forward, reach."Over and over until I rang that bell. I had done it. As a muddy, tired team of five, we would finally scale the Slip wall, jump the fire and collect the medal. Truly a great moment for my whole team. We would cry a little, drink our obligatory free beer and start the tale of war stories that would consume the rest of the evening.
Despite the shiny medal, my scattered failings on the course at times rattle me a bit. As I continue my drive down to WV to see my granddaughter I can honestly say I look at these mountains that surround me and feel as though they may be taunting me a bit. My next race is here. It is a Beast. My longest race ever. Not less than 12 miles right in these very mountains. The seeds of doubt with my struggles that existed on the course on Saturday seemed to be taking root.
That brings me to today. I finished my visit with my granddaughter and came back and decided it was time to get out into the mocking hills and see what happened. After all, I was the Mama Shark, or so they tell me, and this was my only opportunity to be in West Virginia until the race. I owed it to my team to brave the 90 degree heat and report back. The first thing that happened was I used an electrolyte tablet before hand and I had no cramps. I guess that will take that problem out of the equation later on. The second thing was I conquered these crazy elevations for five solid miles. I told myself I did an 8 mile race two days ago, why would a 5 mile training climb be hard? Honesty, it wasn't. I felt the sunshine on my shoulders and the music in my head. In those moments I learned my struggles on the course made me stronger, better somehow. Suddenly, the hills were no longer mocking. They were inviting me to get better. It was then I knew why I Spartan Race. The rocking of my confidence to its very core is a great place to rebuild to a better version of myself.
Coming back from this session I suddenly was barraged, as my brain often does, with ideas to further my training. Conquering obstacles in new ways. I was contemplating grip strength and technique....I had not failed on the course despite what I may have wanted to believe. I was actually ready for more. I suppose this is how difficult things in life go. As we struggle through difficult times that have us questioning the confidence of who we really are, we discover there is absolute greatness in the struggles and failings. I now sit at the firepit at the hotel, sipping a perfectly chilled glass of wine, overlooking the same mountains that shook me a bit yesterday and I see something entirely different. I see an invitation to stay on my journey to become the best version of myself. I realize it may take a few burpees and bruises along the way, but the best things always do. It is the struggle that makes it great. So, here's to ten more weeks of rock solid training before I come back to show these mountains what my team is truly made of. As always, the best is yet to come.
