The last time I ran the Beast in 2017, I felt like the prevailing element surrounding me was fire. I burned with anger, the cancer burned within my father, a weak ember of life was burning within my wife’s womb, my son saw his first camp fire and wanted to throw everything in it and watch it burn. For 2022, I felt like the prevailing element was water. Even as it got to 100 degrees in May, even as we struggled through an extended drought, I felt like I was always surrounded by water.
One of the first workouts of the year it rained. It rained in February on my way to a Meade Fest. I flew over a thunderstorm in March witnessing one of the most beautiful and terrifying sights in my life. My first Spartan race I was covered in mud, even though we were experiencing the beginning of a drought. May was my spiritual journey to Enchanted Rock and the first of many 100 degree days.
It was at Enchanted Rock I started realizing the importance of water. I drank over 5 gallons in 2 days. All I thought about was water, electrolytes, staying hydrated, and the experience changed my mindset.
The summer that followed I would find myself seeking water. At least twice a week I took my kids to the local water park. I went tubing for the first time since college. I rode toward a clear full double rainbow in a summer downpour. Every trip, visit, encounter with friends, there was almost always a pool or river or hose in the backyard. Despite the drought, despite the 95 to 100 degree heat, despite the dry or low level creeks and dusty roads, all I could think about was water.
The storm I endured in my tent served as a sigil for the coming winter. Coming to the end of the journey I felt at a breaking point. Emotion came in strong unexpected waves. It started with the Beast where I suppressed my tears. I turned my sadness and grief into anger when I fought in Oklahoma (where it also rained). However, the storm in my tent tempered me, calmed me, washed me. I had fun at the Houston tournament as opposed to feeling pressure to win like in Oklahoma. Even when I tried to stoke the fire of competition I felt in Oklahoma, the magic in the air surrounding the castle quenched it and exhaustion fell heavily to calm me.
A week after the Castle tournament was the CG Finals. A cold front had pushed through the night before pouring a cold rain on everything before clearing away the clouds with a strong chilling wind.
Calmed, yet exhausted, I went to compete in the coldest winds since the January before. I recalled the Prelims, where I lost emotional control alone in my car after competing. At the Prelims, I felt like I failed, like all my training had been for nothing. But then I got the invitation. I felt like it was a gift, a second chance, an opportunity to prove myself again.
So I braced the cold, layering in every piece of workout clothing I had. My day began at dawn around a propane fire talking with other people who qualified to be there. The conversations were different from what I had at sword tournaments, and I actually don’t remember talking to anyone at any of my Spartan Races. People talked about supplements, training, other races they’d run such as the Spartan and various running distances. And these people were fit, practiced, disciplined; they had earned the right to be there.
But for me there was still that nagging sense of inferiority, like I didn’t deserve my invitation.
There were only 3 events so I knew I had to give my all in each one, but also had to find a balance of pacing so I didn’t burn out. That familiar lump welled in the back of my head, the idea that I would lose control. I feared that tears would fall like the rain into pools like those that surrounded me all year. I just had to make it through the day…
The first event came and went. I felt like I paced myself too much, but after that release, after moving and exerting myself, there was a calm that enveloped me like the layers of workout clothes keeping me warm.
At tournaments, there are jitters before you begin. Nervousness, anxiety; sometimes it takes 2-3 fights before you find your groove and get warmed up. I felt that way after the first Games event. The emotion was gone, I was relaxed, I felt like the pressure was off.
I was at the games I told myself. Only a select few people could say that and, win or lose, second round of invites or not, I had earned my place with other athletes. The exhaustion of the past 4 weeks weighed on me still, but I no longer felt the pressure to prove anything.
My mindset was now similar to a sword fighting tournament: focused, and determined. I did not pace myself in the second event, I pushed past my body telling me to stop and pushed harder. I left it all out on the field, and that was enough for me.
The last event was an obstacle course. I felt like I had a slight advantage since I was used to them and it had only been 3 weeks since my last obstacle race. My ripped hand from the Beast had healed faster than I thought and only a callous remained as I strained across the monkey bars.
Then it was over.
The whole day. As suddenly as it had started. Some of my muscles ached and would be surprisingly sore for the next few days due to my exertion, but I walked away with a sense of satisfaction. Two weeks in a row the come down from the competitions was different. There was a sense of peace, accomplishment. There was no lingering uncertainty, no regretful reflection. I had competed, there was no goal for me to finish, nothing to improve upon or be disappointed about. No accolades, no medals, just a number on a virtual scoreboard.
The following week would be my last endeavor, the finale to the 5 weeks in a row of competitions: 26.2 rainy and cold miles up and down county roads on the northern edge of the Texas Gulf Coast region.
But that, dear reader, is a story for another day…
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