We were so relieved when we hit the start line and the starter announced the course was in fact, 13 miles. Ok. We're good. Thirteen miles was by far the longest race I had ever done, but the low end by Beast standards. Off we went. The first thing we would find was a steep steep incline for almost a mile. We trudged up a step at a time finally reaching the top where we would have amazing panoramic mountain views. This was short lived however, as there was no resting on the laurels of conquering that hill...there were many hills, in fact it was all hills. Up and down the extremely steep mountain for miles and miles until a teammate finally said,"can we just have an obstacle?" The trails were narrow. Faster racers were weaving in and out of us slow and steady folk. Hearing the sound of rapid footprints behind me proved to be stressful as I feared I would either slow them down, or they would knock me off the mountain. In fact, we did see someone who appeared to have fallen and broken the ankle. There were the screaming toes from miles of steep declines, and burning hamstrings from steep inclines. All of this proved to be as mentally challenging as physically, as there just seemed to be no end in sight.
What took me by surprise was actually reaching an obstacle. Suddenly, the ten foot vertical cargo net that held every ounce of my irrational fear in previous races felt like something totally different. It felt familiar compared to the giant mountain. This time I didn't yell,"I don't got this!" I simply climbed and got over it. In my mind, I might be afraid of this but I could do it. Conquering the rest of the mountain was way more scary. My team asked,"what is happening right now?" I honestly think they wait all race to laugh at my irrational outbursts as it provides months of entertainment for them as I struggle to live that down. I suppose those obstacles had become a familiar fear, where as the mountain, that truly lived up to its name, a beast, was all new territory.
I carefully watched my Apple Watch to see how far I had come. When I safely passed the 7 mile mark I felt refreshed. I was over half way there and was doing just fine. However, somehow the Spartan mile markers were way behind my watch. I had 8, how did they have 6? We stopped at the spear throw where I was convinced we were way more than half way.....until I ran into Bill from BROCR Media who told me to hold on, the back of the course was tough. Wait....the back? Aren't we on the back? What I would discover was no, not yet. Eight miles in and had not reached the back half. Back into the mountain we would go. Up and down. People around us who had studied the course map the day before would say,"well we still have the log carry" or "we have not hit the multirig" it was as if they took great pride in pointing out the things we still had not done indicating the end was truly not in sight despite my watch reading 10 miles. At that point, I had to resist the urge to cause them bodily harm. At least it would take my mind off the open flesh of my second toes.
The back half of the course would be more challenging even mentally. Every water station,"you're doing great, only two more Spartan miles to go". What we would learn is the disclaimer of "Spartan" meant they were not going to tell us how much further. I began to wonder if it ever ended. I let my mind wander as I trudged along to all the times over the years that I felt stuck. I felt stuck in an obese body, while people around me told me over and over "you can't". It was like being lost on the mountain, some part of me believe there may be an end in site, but the reality was I was damned to know when or what it was. I pondered this through all of mile 12 until I found myself saying out loud to no one in particular,"tell me I can't one more f@#$ing time." Yes, full on cleansing profanity on the course, I have found to be a thing. I began to tear up as I thought about how much of an audience I had given the negative voices and how locked in I had been to their notions for decades. Suddenly, this was my time. My mountain. My win.
We would ultimately emerge, the last quarter mile, five more obstacles, some successful and some not, to meet in the finish line chute with a final team circle of fist bumps with my teammate saying,"Five sharks in. Five sharks out. Let's finish this." We jumped the fire and cried as a team. Two hundred and forty pounds lost between four of us, complete physical exhaustion, and many demons left to their final resting place on a steep mountain in West Virginia. We learned what obstacles once frightened us felt more like home and that the uphill climb was terrifying but when you have no choice but to push through it, true greatness lived at the finish. More interesting is that what "Spartan miles" meant by Apple Watch standards was a total of 20 miles, not 13. The ride home was met with a lot of chatter about this obstacle, that funny looking racer, the horrific log carry, covering more mileage any of us thought possible and more importantly....when can we do it again?
