My foot hurt. The sleeve I had on my ankle was too tight so I took it off. I was in the first non competitive wave. The course was a 5k, but since I was running the 10K we were supposed to take 2 laps. I was curious to see how that would work out, but regardless the run had to be done.
At the start I swallowed all the emotion. I thought: be a storm like the one I flew over the week before; push through, be wind, be rain, be a force of nature. Walls were jumped, mud was run through. There was only one obstacle I couldn’t get. It was a wall with a platform at the top and 2 ropes hanging down. It looked easier to climb up rather than use the rope, but the wall was slick and I couldn’t make it to the top. I had to do my first set of burpees, but I would have a second chance.
I was feeling good, my foot didn’t hurt once I got going. It was my knees I started to feel, which was new. I slowed my pace to save my energy. Slow and steady, protect yourself, be a snail. I thought about the glass snail sitting in my bedroom and my 96 year old grandmother. Don’t burn out yet. You still have another lap.
Then came the hanging obstacles. Rings, and rolling monkey bars. I have been doing dead hangs as part of my training and wasn’t sure how much good they were doing. Surprisingly, I didn't fail any of the hanging obstacles. There were moments I thought I would lose my grip, but I dug deep, Be a storm, I held on and made it across one after another.
I was still dreading the rope climb, but I hadn’t seen it. Did they not do it this year? Did too many people fall and hurt themselves? Did I escape this year? Just as I turned to start the second lap, I saw it; hanging high 100 yards away with people struggling to climb up. It would be the last obstacle and unlike the others I would only get one chance to try it.
Slow and steady, be snail. At my second attempt at the wall with the platform, I jumped up, but I slammed my knee right into the wall. I limped off thinking I did some real damage. After a short rest and debate on if I should just do burpees, I decided to go again. This time I jumped up, grabbed a bar on the platform and hung there. I swung my legs, but it was too narrow to lift my foot to hook it on the wall. I hung there almost helpless, half expecting someone to help me, but no one did. I didn't want to give up and drop. Some hidden strength caused me to push my elbows up: Be a storm. The rest of my body lifted high enough to get my chest and stomach over the top and pull myself up and over.
But after that, I felt my legs cramping. I had to be a snail again. Limp-running the rest of the way, I made it to the monkey bar obstacles again. When I got to the last rung of the first obstacle, my hand slipped and I fell inches from ringing the bell. When I looked at my hand, my palms were ripped open and my left hand was bleeding. After that I tried the other hanging obstacles, but every time I grabbed a bar it was like grabbing a hot poker.
That was a kicker. I knew I already did all the hanging obstacles, I knew I could do them again, but my injured hands prevented me from completing them.
There was another obstacle where you jump up a wall to grab a ladder of bars. I jumped up the wall, but when I grabbed the bar and tried to throw my leg up, my ankle went 90 degrees from a cramp. I screamed in pain and hugged the bar so I wouldn’t fall and have to try again. After a few moments, I ascended the ladder, and as I descended I stretched out my calf as I went.
The final 100 meters, the rope climb loomed ahead like a gallows. Both my legs were cramping, my hand was bleeding, the sun was burning my forehead, the dust was swirling and the wind was choking. I tried the rope, but as soon as I tried to raise my legs, the cramps almost doubled me over. I had to settle for burpees.
The fire jump had no fire because of a burn ban, but the race was over. There was a creeping disappointment in my performance. I felt like I walked too much, I failed obstacles I should have completed due to my bleeding hands. I didn’t even try the robe climb because of cramps. There was a kiosk that displayed times as soon as the wrist band was scanned. I was only a few minutes faster than my last time 5 years ago. I chalked it up to the burpees from failed obstacles. Probably would have been better if it was the same course as last time.
About an hour later I finally drove away. My heart was still at 100bpm and I was still trying to catch my breath. I wasn’t hungry, but knew I hadn’t eaten in about 5 hours. I stopped at a Golden Corral and right before I pulled in, whatever rock that had been keeping me from being hungry dropped. I went in still covered in gray mud and ate 4-5 plates of food while enduring odd looks from the patrons and wait staff alike.
Why was I disappointed? I did it, I completed it, my time was faster (if only by minutes) than 5 years ago. Not sure what I expected of myself, but I felt I could’ve done better. It took several days for me to recover. I don’t remember being that exhausted even after the last Beast. Was my age catching up to me? Was it the three weekends in a row leading up to it that took a toll?
And like I expected, my universe had a different volume, a muffled tone. My sore muscles and scabbing hands reminded me of my 2 ½ hours of endurance. But also, nothing in my universe had changed. Still divorced, still an uncertain future, still the Beast on the calendar.
We all still have our Beasts, our ghosts, our shadowy mountains. We look for ways to hide them, hide from them, find a light to keep them at bay. We have different ways of doing it, either by protecting ourselves and slowly stalking away, or fighting through with power and ferocity. Coming out the other side we will be sore, bleeding, cramping, perhaps even disappointed. But we have to push through if for nothing else just to say that we did it. Until the next race dear reader: Be a Snail, be a Storm, be a Spartan.
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