The Baack Paack

Getting your head right at 9000′

One of the biggest obstacles I have discovered when racing both my rookie season and this year is my own mental outlook.  How you perceive things will affect your personal performance.  For example.  If I look at an obstacle course that has 6’ walls and a 12’ rope climb, I think.

“Sweet! Easy!” as I have a lot of experience on these obstacles, and know, even completely exhausted, I can complete them.

The same thing could be said about the reverse.  Last year, in my rookie season, the one obstacle that was causing me all sorts of grief was the slip wall.  I crashed and slid down that obstacle dozens of times in the 9 Spartan races that I ran last year.  It was not uncommon to attempt it 3-4 times, slipping and crashing down to the bottom before getting a ton of assistance in getting over. This year, I watched hours of videos on this obstacle, I built one in my backyard and practiced (yes, I have a slip wall in my backyard) until I got to a point this year that the wall does not bother me anymore.

Yes, sometimes it can be difficult, especially when they literally pour cooking oil all over the obstacle (as done in Temecula this year) to make it very slick.  However, once you gain the mental confidence in the steps that you need to complete in order to complete an obstacle, the fear and trepidation goes away – replaced with the muscle memory of what you need to do in order to accomplish the task.

To that end, Spartan Race has been great with the psychological warfare that they have been playing with the racers in the 2015 racing year.    It has been subtle, but present in several of the races that I have attended to date.

What are you talking about Jay?
Well, let’s talk about it.

1. Race obstacles.  One of the obstacles that most people freak out about is the Memory Challenge wall. I have talked about this in previous posts, where you take the last two digits of your bib number, located on your headband, and find them on this massive chart, which is tied to a corresponding phrase that you have to remember.  One example might be “LIMA 9080-3429”.   They usually put this fairly close to the start of the race to where you need to remember the phrase, then several miles down the course they have the “drop point”, where you have to repeat the phrase that you have been trying to remember for the past several miles.   In several of the races that I have run this year (I would say over 70%) that had this obstacles listed as an obstacle on the course map, however, they didn’t have a “drop point”.  So, you ran up to the obstacle, had to remember the phrase, and then never had to repeat it back for anyone.   A lot of people complain about this.  I don’t see it as that big of a deal, a minor annoyance, yes, but nothing to get upset about – just another obstacle to deal with during the race.
2. Early Preview Race maps.   I swear there is a crew of folks nestled deep in their cubicles in the Boston based Spartan office whose sole purpose is to come up with phony race maps to release on social media a week before the race weekend.  They must sit there wringing their hands together coming up with all sorts of variations and versions of the map and then send them out on the web to see where they end up.    This year (2015) especially, there has been a flood of phony race maps that have been posted out on social media for upcoming races.   Most are fairly accurate as to the actual course direction and mileage that the racers will be running, however, the obstacles are 70% wrong.  This is why I try not to pay that much attention to the early race maps, as they always suggest a much harder race then what you actually face.

 

On to Tahoe!

 

Which leads me back to the Spartan World Championships that I took part in over the weekend.   The pre-build and the pre-race maps that were posted really had me thinking and overthinking about this race.  I was coming off a double race weekend in Temecula, with a 10+ hour Beast race on Saturday (Yes, ten hours, you read that right),  followed by a Sprint the following day.   Coming into the race, my legs, knees, and feet were still sore from the weekend before, which was also a factor that was playing with my mind.

Looking at the race maps that were posted online a week before the race, I was looking at a lot of obstacles.  Two bucket carries, two sand bag carries, multiple rope climbs, and the beast course was part of the Sprint course that was going to be run the following day.  This meant that there would be Beast only obstacles as well as shared obstacles as the Beast and Sprint course overlapped.  Add that to a 2000’ vertical ascent, with us all starting at 6000’…. My mind was prepping for 8 hours of a high heart rate, deep breathing, multiple hundred burpee suck fest.

I would be lying to say that I was truly looking forward to this race.  It has been a long year on my quest for 8 trifectas, and I have been fighting my mind for several months now with my short term desires compared to my long term goals for the year.  Can I just get a weekend off?      Add in cross country flights, multiple time zone changes, as well as work and self-imposed pressures.  I was tired, and had been for a month.  I have been dealing with race crud in my lungs from Jersey and Temecula, and was now heading to Tahoe, where deep breathing was going to be the single most important thing I needed to do for 8 hours.    To reinforce this mental low I had been on, when Vicki and I were on the plane to Tahoe, we pushed back from the gate, drove around the tarmac for what seemed an hour, then had to return to the gate for a mechanical issue.   Part of me was thinking that this was a cosmic sign that I was not supposed to race this event, and if the flight was cancelled, I was trying to convince myself that it was OK.  I was mentally drained.

Three anxious hours later we were airborne and enroute to Tahoe.
Time to suck it up cowboy. Time to put your big boy pants on.  You are racing in less than 24 hours.

Upon our arrival in Tahoe, the first think I noticed was that I was very cranky.  “Pissy Kitty” is what my sister would call it.   Realizing this behavior was similar to when I was in Breckenridge for the Beast race, I was able to correlate the behavior to the elevation.   Breckenridge was about 8000’ and Tahoe about 6000’ ASL.  Both of them had my heart elevated, which had my body working harder than normal, and it was enough of a change to alter my personality just enough to push my patience meter from the typical “laugh internally about it” attitude to the outward facing  Jason’s getting “pissy” category.  Realizing this, it got my mind spinning more about the upcoming race and the obstacles that I would be facing.  Vicki picked up on my behavior change right away.  She knew that something was not right with my head.  She did her best to try and talk me out of it, however, I was still stuck in my rut – and racing in less than 12 hours.   I tuned in to bed early after a huge dinner, my head hitting the pillow at 7:30 PM.

 

Headlamps, glow sticks and 31 degrees

One of the discussions that was posted in the West Coast Spartan Facebook page was concerning the racer equipment.  Based upon the race “required materials checklist” on the Spartan.com page for this race, as well as email questions back and forth with Spartan staff,  it was clear that anyone still on the course by 3 PM would need to have a headlamp and two glow sticks in their pack, or get DQed and pulled from the course.  Thinking that I was going be out on the course for about 8 hours due to the obstacles and burpees I would be facing, I packed all three items. The previous weekend   I had my first experience of starting a race with sun glasses on, and ending 10 hours later at dusk with my glasses packed in my bag.  I would be lying if I said was excited to think that I would need to wear my headlamp while descending down from 9000’ feet in the cold and dark,  7+ hours into this race.

Upon arrival at the venue, the temperature gauge on the car dash was showing 31 degrees in the parking lot, at 6000’.  I was going up over 9000’ and had to face a swim and winds, and cooler temps.  I would be “racing the daylight” on this course,  as the ascent and descent of the race was on the eastern side of the mountain which meant even less light in the afternoon due to the mountains blocking the sun as it set in the west.  Yep.. spinning was an accurate term as to where my head was.  My brain was stuck in the mud like a pick up truck off roading in Maine during the spring thaw.. With the rear tires spinning, dirt flying everywhere, tons of loud noise, but completely stuck in one spot –  not moving ahead.

 

I needed a paradigm shift and I needed it quick.

Getting out of the car, the 31 degrees hit my legs quickly.  It was nippy out!  Vicki wished that she HAD brought gloves.  Heading from the parking lot through the ski village complex to the registration area I was amazed with the turnout.  Thousands of folks where here in the pre-dawn hours, queuing in line, warming up, jogging around and generally getting ready for the 15 mile race we had before us.  I made a beeline over to get my registration packet and was faced with several lines that were 50+ racer deep.

“Oh boy” I thought, this is going to take a while.

However, I found that my line was much, much shorter, with only about 8 racers in it.  If I could have seen myself in this line I would have laughed.  There were 7 elite racers and me.   All of the men I recognized right away from seeing them race in previous locations, or on TV.  They all had a similar body structure.  5-6” to 5-10” 140 ish pounds and 6-8 percent body fat.  All of the females were 5-4” to 5-8” and about 100 to 120 pounds.  They were all sporting spandex and logoed apparel as well.   A bad ass looking crew to say the least.  They add had their games faces on, as the Elite heats had a significant purse for top three this year.  I could see that they were all in their own zone, focused on what they had to do.

Then there was me, 6’4” and over 260 lbs.

Talk about throwing off the curve!  HA!  It was comical, and was one of the first things I could laugh about that day.  Several of the racers were getting pulled into photo shots from other open racers who were fans and wanted a pic or to say hello.   This was happening all around me.  Think about this – what other sport do you know of that is on national television that you can not only be hanging out with the best of the best in line, but get the chance to talk to and throw a high five?  Just another reason I like the sport of OCR so much.

Within minutes I was through registration and looking for Vicki who had also made it through the spectator line fairly quickly.   In the cold weather I was shaking even with my hat and vintage 2014 Trifecta hoodie.  We made a quick stop at the race map where she grabbed a few pics, then headed back to the car to turn up the heat and get warm.  Upon getting back in the car, I was physically there, but mentally checked out.

You know that place where you are doing something but your mind is elsewhere?  As in, you are driving home, but thinking about dinner, or out on a run but thinking about sea shells? (Yes, I do think about sea shells when running… You don’t?), that is where I was sitting in the car.   Vicki handed me her phone with the pictures of the race map on it.

“Hey, look at these” she said.

 

I was looking at the map of the course on her phone.  I could now see the “real” course, the real obstacles that I would be facing it was right in front of me, however, my brain was not processing what was in front of my eyes – rather, I was still see the details from the older maps of the past.

Yeah folks, my head was not in this one.

 

Starting corrals SNAFU, broken obstacles and skipped burpees

After sitting in the car for 30 minutes getting warmed up, Vicki and I headed back to the race venue.  We gathered with the rest of the racers off to the left side of the course to watch the male and female elites gather and start off on the course.    The way that the course was laid out, was that the start line was RIGHT next to about mile 1.5 on the course, where there were several obstacles that you could watch from this position.   That was neat, but put a HUGE pressure point on the starting line, which I will take about in a moment.

Standing there, the first thing I noticed was the starting wall that you have to jump over to get INTO the starting corral, otherwise known as the hot gate.   The hot gate was NOT a 4.5 – 5’ wall, rather it was a full 7’ wall.  WELCOME to the WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS!

Seeing these men and women scale this wall was interesting, watching the different techniques as they came over one by one.  Calling each “coin holder” by name. (A coin holder is someone who placed in the top spots for each race to earn a Spartan “coin” as their free entry into the World Championships).  Once the coin holders are all in, the rest of the elite waves are called in, and this is when the first issue with this race became apparent.  Picture an 8’ wide,  7’ tall wall with about 5-7 people all trying to get over it at once.  Hands getting stepped on, faces and shoulders kicked. And multiple attempts to get over the walls by those not as gifted as others with solid wall techniques.  It was a classic SNAFU as everyone tried to get over this wall to get into the starting corral.. and this was the Elite heat!   To make matters worse, there was not a defined funnel point where the volunteers stood to check the wrist bands for starting times.  Instead it was this large crowd that was just pushing forward, then had to make an immediate left to then get to the wall area to get over it.

Due to the TV coverage on this race, the start of the elite men was pushed back 30 minutes for better lighting, which meant that the female elite racers were pushed back as well.  Both of these added delays to my start.  Not to mention that 2 minutes before the elite males where to start, the generator that powered the air compressor that kept the “start” balloon arch inflated,  ran out of gas, and the starting line balloon started to immediately deflate over the racers. Several of them ended up holding up  this deflated balloon until a Spartan blue shirt came running into the crowd with a gas can to feed the generator.  I laughed for the second time today, Spartan is just throwing in another mental obstacle!  Within a few minutes the generator was powered back up and running- inflating the starting sign back to inflation, and the men were off sprinting down the course.  I say sprinting, because the racers in front were.  I mean, full on sprinting to start a 15 mile course.  Wow. These guys are animals, and I have so much to learn.

As the female elite racers started making their way over the wall the bottleneck which was increasing in elite and open racers all pushing towards the start of the wall, with no one to regulate who should be in front or get out of the way.  By the time the first Open class wave was called, (7:55 AM) it was 8:15.  So, 8:15 am racers were pushing to get to the front, thinking it was their time to race,  only to be told it was the 7:55 racers time slot. This message was not being conveyed back to the racers behind them in line, so a lot of frustration was starting to show.   At the same time 8:30 racers were pushing to the front as they thought they would be next, running into the same issue.  Add to this confusion  a lot of unskilled 7’ wall climbers, and a lot of folks needing a boost to get over the walls, it was taking much longer than planned to get folks just into the starting corral.   Making my way, I had moved ahead about 10 feet in the past 15 minutes due to the confusion at the start.  Soon the 8:15 wave was called and I was bottle necked, at least 600 racers from the start.  What SNAFU.     I was not going anywhere due to the sheer number of racers trying to get into the corral.  I looked to my left, I had 6 racers between me and the security fence immediately in front of, and then over the 7’ hot gate.  With six people to my left by the starting corral side wall and over 600 in front of me, I made the executive decision to skip the hot gate and get in the corral.  Starting on time was WAY more important to me than climbing yet another wall, and I said screw it.  I cut left, weaved through 6 racers and hopped over the security fence into the corral, hot gate be damned.  I wasn’t going to miss my starting time, just so I could climb a 7’ wall which wasn’t even part of the course.  Hell, I have one at home, I can climb that all day.  I needed all the daylight I could get, which meant I needed to start on time.

Landing in the corral, I saw a few other racers follow my path and jumped it as well.   Knowing full well I wasn’t SKIPPING an obstacle ON the course, I didn’t have any issue skipping the hot gate.  This was an AWESOME idea by the race designers to make the starting wall something epic, however, VERY poorly executed come race day on managing the MASSIVE amount of racers.   Three minutes later I was off and jogging, the race was on, crossing the start line at 8:48 AM, 38 minutes past my “original” start time.

The race  took off for some flat running and immediately jumped into waist deep water after a few 5’ walls.  It was maybe 36-39 degrees for air temperature and that water was cold, even worse was getting out of it and back into the cold air.   Soon after that obstacle, I started climbing up on some brand new single track trail that have been carved into the side of a slope just for this race.  Total elevation gain was maybe 200’ but it was steep enough to get the blood pumping and the air moving.  We continued along this path of single track up and down, hiking / jogging for about a mile, to where you emerged from the woods and came out into a field where you could look down at the starting gate and the two obstacles that were right in the festival area, directly adjacent to the starting corral, the vertical cargo net and the monkey bars.

As I was zig zagging down the trail I was watching the monkey bars.  The bars on this obstacle were at varying heights and widths, so several times you had to not only reach out, but reach UP and out to get the next bar. It was a difficult obstacle.   Having watched the male and female elite racers get to this obstacle, I saw a ton of them fall off and fail, resulting in a packed burpee zone, many more than I expected for the elite racers.   I thought it was due to the rig being cold and wet or ice on the bars from the cold start of the day, however, it was something else entirely.

As I began to run down the hill, heading for the vertical cargo, I saw several open racers just run through the monkey bars, not even attempting them – and skipping the burpees entirely.

My immediate reaction was anger.

“He we go again.. CHEATING on the course” I thought.

“In full view of the world, have these people no shame, no honor in what they are doing?”

I was furious, as I knew I was NOT going to be able to complete the obstacle and would be doing the burpee penalty, and here were dozens of racers just running right through it.  I hit the cargo wall, scaling up one side, down the other and jogged over to the monkey bars, touched the obstacle and walked to the burpee zone to knock out my thirty.

 

Here is where perception isn’t always the truth.

 

As I was busy getting into the starting corral, it was discovered that several of the rungs of the monkey bars were not locked into place and several of the “failed” elite racers, fell off not because of grip strength, but because the bars actually moved out of place when they grabbed them, they were broken.

So, as I am off on the start of my course, Spartan red and blue shirts were frantically trying to fix the obstacle and in the meantime giving racers a “burpee free pass” to run right through it as it was being fixed. Racers could run right through the obstacle without penalty due to safety.  The whole time the fix was going on, Vicki was mentally urging me to hurry up so I could take advantage of this slight change of course, and save me 30 burpees.   So, my “rage” at these racers was misplaced, as they were doing just as they were told to do.    Come to find out, Vicki noticed that about 10 seconds before I got the monkey bars is when they were classified as “fixed” and “back in service” where the volunteers were once again enforcing the burpee penalties for falling off.   I missed the cut off for not having to do burpees by about 10 seconds.  Damn – 30 burpees for me.

Burpee count for the race: 30

Two sets of 15 chest to ground burpees later, I was back in the race and once again, starting to head up the trail –  this time for thousands of feet. (The race map profile for this course listed the course as 15 miles and 4000’ of vertical climbing.)

This was going to be one of the most demanding climbs I had done in a Spartan race, not only due to the 4000’ of elevation change over 15 miles, but the fact that you are doing it from 6000-9000 feet.  For miles I did nothing but hike/fast walk up and up and up.  At several points you had to lean back and look well up the mountain to see the switchbacks with racers going up the side of this peak.   By the time I hit the second water station I was averaging a 160 heart rate and I was pushing A LOT of air.  However, I was also averaging about 2.8 miles per hour, going up hill, so I was real happy with my pace – yet hesitant at the same time, as my mind kept saying:

“Yes, you feel good now, however, the hard stuff is coming up soon.”

The temps had warmed up to the high 40’s low 50s as we climbed higher, but, at the same time, the wind was blowing much stronger.  At times, the gusts were well over 35 miles per hour. Depending on what side of the mountain we were climbing, we either had a constant 20 mph wind quartering us, or it was blowing right in our faces.  To get me through it, I focused on two things, the racers ankles in front of me and my internal mantra of keep moving air with each step.

For some reason by mile 4 my body seemed to start to get used to the elevation and the jitters of the race as I was starting to settle in.  My heart rate was down in the 150’s my breathing was more controlled and I felt a lot better.  It was almost like my internal mental switch was thrown from:

“I don’t know about this…”
to
“Ok, this isn’t that bad”.

The bright sun, combined with my additional body heat that I was producing from the effort of climbing was keeping me warm, but the high winds and lower temps wasn’t allowing for the sweat to form or drip off my body.  It was almost a perfect weather scenario for me.  Stop moving, get cold and cramp up.  Keep moving and stay warm – and make progress.   I loved the weather.  It forced me to keep pushing, don’t stop, get it done.    Those around me, the weather and the terrain combined made for misery.  They hated the weather, hated the hills, hated being there, and were not shy about verbalizing it.  I would internally laugh when I heard them complaining.

I wanted to say to them:
“You do realize you PAID money to do this right?”

&

“This is the WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS!  It is SUPPOSED to be hard.”

On many of these really steep climbs I had a mental advantage over most of the racers around me since I had hiked the AT years before. During that 127 day 2,169.9 mile trek, I discovered a lot about myself and how hard I can push when needed.   Unlike a lot of the racers around me, I knew I could finish this Beast course, as long as I kept my plan very simple.

No matter what, just keep putting one foot in front of the other.   That is all I had to do.

Complaining about it wasn’t going to get it done.  Focusing on the now, what I had to do right this moment – not 4 miles down the road, as well as my breathing, and the size 7 green and blue Speed Cross 3’s that were being worn by the racer right in front of me.  Keep it simple, keep the focus small, keep the goal small.

Soon we hit the herc hoist and I got a chance to collect my breath.  To the left and right of me, men in pairs were hauling up the weight. In open class, you can buddy up to lift the weight off the ground, however, you then have to lift it twice to complete the obstacle.   I made a point to beat both pairs next to me by myself.  Forty seconds later the bag was back on the ground, and I headed back to the course only to face a 7 foot wall, which was nice and dry. Great news for me.  I ran up, planted off the wall, chicken winged my right armpit over the top of the wall and then threw my left leg up and over the wall to get the leg hook.  This maneuver had tweaked my hamstring pretty good in the past when I attempted this full left leg swing and grab without a proper warm up.
I had no worries about my hamstring at this point, as 3 miles and about 1500 ‘ of elevation had them screaming hot.  I rolled off the top and kept going on the trail.

Soon after we hit the log carry.  This one was quite long and steep as well.  Several reports of racers loosing their logs and having them roll back down to the start, nearly cleaning out racers.  I threw log on my back and kept moving, one foot in front of the other.  No need to try and speed through this, just get it done.  Up one side of the 1/2 pipe, and down the other.  This was a long one.

Vicki grabbed a shot of this from the gondola ride.

 

Food, drink and water stations

 

Knowing what I had in front of me for this race, the night before I packed pretty heavy with food.

• Four cliff bars (macadamia nut, blueberry crisp and two carrot cake)
• 4 Shot Blok sleeves (three black cherry and one strawberry)
• 2 Hammer Strength gels (Espresso flavored)
• 10 Ibuprofen tablets (to fight off headaches as well as knee pain from the up and down)
• 8 salt stick tabs (To keep the electrolytes in balance to prevent cramping)

I made a point to eat close to every 30- 40 minutes, as well as eat at each water station, and I honestly think, this aided me in my performance and mental outlook on the course.  I was eating even when I wasn’t hungry, and hitting two to three cups of water at each water station, with occasional sips from my water bladder, which was filled with my caffeine amino energy blend.   At the third water station the racer staff and the volunteers made a point to say that this was the last water stop that you could fill your bladder for several miles, as the next water stop was at the top of the climb (1.6 miles and 1000’ feet of elevation later up close to 9000′) which was a limited supply station, so you could only use cups to get water.   At this point my water bladder was still 70% full, so I skipped filling it and just went with a few cups of water before pressing on.

This course had a lot of vertical.  A LOT of vertical.  As in, you think you are at the top, make a left or right turn, and see that you are nowhere near the summit, as the trail continued to angle up to the sky.  As the climbs continued, the wind increased to where it was blowing on your constantly.  For most of these climbs I was power breathing, inhale, step, exhale step, inhale step, exhale step, over and over.  Mouth gaping open, sucking and pushing air, and drooling, as taking time to close my mouth would have messed up my breathing.   All I was thinking about was moving air and keeping pace with the shoes in front of me.  Soon we hit the top of the first peak.  A barren rocky flat top with a mile marker sign on top and a trail continuing off the far side.  A lot of racers were breaking here to take pictures and rest.  I kept moving.  We approached this peak from the north, crossed over the peak and began heading south.  This started one of the first long descents where jogging came into play as I jogged /ran down the back side of this peak on several switchbacks, headed for the next peak I could see in front of me.

 

That was not to be the case.

Finishing the jog to where the trail started climbing a bit, we were faced with an immediate hard right and now had to scale up the side of the mountain that we had just switched back down.   However, this trail was straight up to the top.  No switch backs.  UG.

 

 

I switched out of “run/jog / shuffle” mode and back into power breathing.   500 yards later, we were at a false peak, not the actual top, but at an obstacle, the sandbag carry.   Well played Spartan.   This obstacle DID get us to the peak, about 200 yards straight up and straight down, at 9000’.  The peak of this climb, achieved with a 40 # sand bag on your shoulder was the actual top of this mountain.

Needless to say, I didn’t stick around the enjoy the view.

 

When I started racing this year I tried a pair of new techniques for the sand bag and log carries which had worked well for me to date.

1. Never put them down – It takes a ton of energy to pick them back up from the ground, and provides an opportunity for the bucket / bag to slip and empty
2. Power breathe the entire time
3. Never stop! Even if you are barely moving, never stop-keep going.

Ok, that was three things, but the proved to work for me well, and this was another prime example.

All around me on the climb I was greeted with the “WUUMP!” sound of sandbags smashing into the ground, where people would drop the bag to rest during the climb.  Men and women both, some letting them slide to the ground, others throwing them to the ground with effort as to almost make a point of how upset they were with the obstacle.   WUUMP!  WUUMP!  WUMMP!  Bags were hitting the ground all around me.   I kept climbing up, passing folks on my left and right as I ascended this mountain.  Reaching the peak I stole a quick look at the trail back down to survey for any hazards I might see on the path, then I directed my eyes at my feet again and started heading down, passing even more racers on the descent.   I am by no means an elite racer when it comes to this obstacle, however, I do really enjoy it and can power through the obstacle fairly strong, rarely getting passed on the uphill by other racers.

 

Dumping the bag in the bin at the bottom of the obstacle I headed to the next water station, where I slammed a cliff bar (carrot cake), got a chance to talk with a few other racers (several had big number weight loss as well) and chug water.  At this point I even had to urinate, which is uncommon for me at this point in a race, especially with all the vertical we had to do to date.  I hopped off the trail past the porta potty that had a line of about 6 females and let it fly.. right into the swirling wind… and all over my legs.  Growing up male, you learn early on that you “don’t piss into the wind” unless you want to wear it.  Standing in the saddle between two peaks with swirling winds, doesn’t really help, and to be honest,  I didn’t really care.  Finishing up I spied the trail down the mountain.  We were heading to the swim, the dreaded swim, and then a pile of obstacles (14) within the next few miles.

 

 

This next series of obstacles was going to test me more than I knew.

 

What is your name son?

Jogging down to the swim obstacles you could really see the whole aspect of what they had in store for you.  The small pond that the obstacle was in was a 50 yard swim to a red floating ball, with a hard right turn followed by a 70 yard swim to the end of the pond.  At this point it was close to noon, and right around mile 9.  The air temperature was about as warm as it was going to be, and I dare say that was mid 50s.  The sun was out bright, with very few clouds in the sky, however, the wind was whipping at about 30 miles an hour.  From listening to the male elite racer starting directions, they were told that every racer HAD to wear a PFD (personal flotation device or life vest) and the elite racers had to do the swim or be DQed.  The open wave racers had an option.  They could burpee out the swim with a 60 burpee penalty, or put on the PFD and swim the course.  There was not even an option for this native Maine boy.  If there is water or mud or guck, I am getting in it.    Several of the people in front of me were wadding gingerly into the water and making the traditional “ooohs and wowzas!” about how cold the water was as they got in it.    I just jumped right in.

BOOM.
The shock to my system was instant.  My heart rate went from 150 to 180 in about 4 seconds.   I was in full power breathing mode to offset the coldness of this water.

(It was released in a podcast after the race was over that the water temp at the surface was measured at 51 degrees, with the temperature one foot below the surface a frigid 40 degrees.)

HOLY SH*&  THIS IS COLD!

MOVE!

I went right into a modified breast stroke as I could remain on my chest to see who was in front of me as well as where I was heading.  Within 10 yards of the swim most racers were on their back performing some sort of back stroke, heading in all sorts of directions.  Folks were hitting and kicking each other in the water.  By 25 yards in, folks were still kicking and hitting each other, they just were not feeling it any more as fingers, legs and toes were starting to become numb.  I course corrected three racers who were swimming off course (all doing the back stroke) and pressed on the turn maker.   Life guards on shore as well as in kayaks in the pond were constantly checking in on the racers asking if they were ok.  One looked at me and opened his mouth to speak where I threw him the  SCUBA diver “OK” sign with my left hand during one of my strokes, he closed his mouth and smiled as to say “yeah buddy, you got this” and quickly turned to another racer to ask if he was alright.   By 50 yards my hands were numb.  Typing at this point was out of the question, I had lost all dexterity in my fingers on then trying to cup them together to move faster.  They were fins that I was using to scoop and move water.   At 60 yards a racer in front of me started to panic.   She was backstroking, and could not see where she was going.  It was obvious that she was not comfortable swimming (as she was more flailing them swimming) and the temp of the water was stating to affect her.    She started yelling and complaining about the obstacle.  I quickly threw over a LOUD a “You got this Spartan!”

She snapped her head from the right, (where she was looking for one of the techs on a kayak to help her) to the left to see who was shouting at her.

Again I boomed: “You GOT THIS.. KEEP SWIMMING.. 40 yards to go!”

She continued to flail around and complain about being cold and wanting to stop.

“THIRTY FIVE YARDS”  (I lied).. “You are almost THERE!”

A life guard on the kayak paddled next to her and asked “ Are you OK – do you need help?”

She looked at him, then in my direction and started to swim towards him.

“You don’t need help SPARTAN! YOU GOT THIS – YOU ARE ALMOST THERE.. KEEP SWIMMING” I yelled.

The medic on the kayak looked at her and repeated my reply.

“You are so close!  You got this finish strong!”

The racer gave a cry of resistance, you know the one when you tell a three year old to put on their clothes and they stamp their feet and throw their hands in the air and utter this “yell / screech” that translates to “I don’t want to?”

Yeah, that was the sound she was making.

The medic, seeing that she had control of herself, back stroked away from her signifying to her that she was ok.

Now she was looking at me and only me.  We locked eyes.  We were about 15 yards apart, her on her back, looking past the neon orange life vest hugging her neck and sticking up in the air, looking past her toes as she stared at me, on my chest, power breathing, staring right back at her.

I could see the look of uncertainty on her face.  I could see she was waaaaaaaay out of her comfort zone.  I could see the panic, the momentary pain, the fear, and every negative though that was racing through her brain, it was all there on her face.  She didn’t believe in herself, she didn’t think she could accomplish this obstacle, she didn’t believe that she had anything left.

I KNEW she could do it.  I had seen that look before, that place where you think you have nothing left, that place that you are so far out of your comfort zone you are in another time zone.  But here is a secret..  There is always more you can give.

Time to switch into coach mode.

“Come on SPARTAN.. 35 to go.. Move your arms!”  I yelled between breaths.

“Kick your feet, 30 yards to go!”

“Don’t quit, you are ALMOST THERE!”

The whole time, her eyes, locked on to mine, as I started to close the gap swimming faster towards her.

At twenty yards, the crowd started cheering for her as well.

“Go Girl!” “You got this” “Don’t stop” could be heard from all over the pond.

At ten yards we all yelled for her to “flip over” on to her chest so she could see where she was going.

“The ladder is RIGHT there.  Keep moving, don’t stop, you will cramp up.  Finish it!” I yelled.

She touched the ladder, and still swimming (now treading water) at the base of the ladder, she paused.  You could see she was mentally and physically exhausted.

“CLIMB!” one of the volunteers yelled.

Five yards behind her I was trying to get into a position to help, however, with a new found burst of energy, she climbed up the wooden ladder and collapsed on the cement retaining wall of the pond.

I hit the ladder, and wanting to stand on the ground to push myself up, I swung my feet under me, only to find nothing but water.  DAMN! I reached up with lobster claw hands and leveraged my upper body out of the water on to the ladder.  Swim was done.  Pulling myself out of the water I paused to throw her a high five.  She looked up, her hair all over her face and soaking wet, and grinned slightly.  She raised her hand to hit mine – and we missed the hand slap.

I laughed out loud, and she giggled.  I bent down, grabbed her left hand with my right and then gingerly slapped it with my right.

“Way to go Spartan!” I said.

An exhausted “thank you” was returned.

I turned to the right, stripping off my PFD, throwing it into the pile of other life vests and ran past the dozen or so racers who were doing burpees.  I needed to move to keep warm.  I was starting to feel the effects of hypothermia, I just didn’t realize it yet.

In the military when recruits are subjected to very cold water where hypothermia could present itself, they are assessed my medical staff who ask three general questions similar to the three listed below:

“What is your name son?”

“Where are you?”

“What is (insert a simple math equation here) 4+12”

These questions are used as a baseline to determine mental capacity.  Historical data, (name), situational data (where are you), and analytical skills (simple math).

Upon dropping the PFD, if someone would have asked me the questions, my responses would have been:

“What is your name son?”    –  Jay

“Where are you?”  – Tahoe

“What is 4+12?”  Tahoe

 

“No no, what is 4+12?”   My response:  “ Tahoe “

I knew where I was, I knew who I was, I knew I was FREAKIN’ cold, I knew I had more miles to go.. but most importantly I KNEW I had to keep moving.  Math?  Ennh.. over rated at this point in the race and I couldn’t even try to think in that capacity.

Strike 1

Soon after the pond swim was a water station.   Yeah, that is some irony I know.  You swim for 10 – 15 minutes in 40-50 degree water, and then stop at a water station to consume cold water.  Most were using this as a place to strip off wet clothes and go without them or put on dry shirts.  Others were trying to wring out their race clothes and put them back on.   I fumbled with a cliff bar, desperately trying to open the package with my now shaking hands to get some fuel in my body.    At the same time, my stomach was feeling like I had eaten an entire tribe of pygmy warriors, and they were now all pissed –  and all stabbing me with spears trying to get out of the center of my core.  My body was saying “somethings a miss in funky town”.

My brain however, had shifted into primal mode.  “Move + eat = heat”  That was all I could think about.

Grabbing my last cup of water at the water station my hands were starting shake.   I was starting to slide down the rabbit hole.  I needed to get moving if I was going to continue.

Strike 2

 

Hi Honey!

Usually this universal greeting from ones spouse floods the mind and body with positive emotions.  The friendly sight of one love ones, their joyous tone greeting you.

My internal response: “Oh Sh*t!..”

Let me explain.

I was very happy that not only did Vicki come with me on this trip, but paid the extra money to ride the gondola up to the top of the mountain to then sit in the cold and wait for and watch me race.  I was happy that she was happy.  I was happy that she was there.

I was panicked to have her see how “out of it” I was feeling, to where she would try to get me to stop racing.

“Honey, you are making great time!  You are almost to mile 10!” She said.

“un huh” I replied, doing my best to stop my hands and arms from shaking.

“You are looking strong!  How do you feel?” she asked?

“Fine” I replied.

“Is there anything I can get you? Food? You want any pretzels?” she asked with a smile on her face.

Keeping up with my loquacious lecture style responses: “No” I uttered.

I needed to start moving, I couldn’t hide the shaking in my legs, core and arms any more.

Before I knew it I looked up to see the back of her iPhone was thrust in my face as she started taking pictures.  I threw up a thumbs up, my hands not really working the way they should be from the cold.

 

 

 

I started walking up a slight hill to the next obstacle.  Oh God, was this painful.

You know those sci-fi movies where someone casts a spell, or utters some long forgotten language toward a huge a stone statue, which then the statue slowly starts to come to life? You see this carved statue start to move and break away from the wall behind them, bits of rock falling to the ground as they rip themselves from the wall, stone crunching and crushing as they start moving, arms swinging for the first time, legs bending at the knees and starting to walk, all the while, groaning, yelling and this look of pain on their face?

Yeah, that is what it felt like.
My legs were cramping up, my stomach was on fire and I was exhausted.. all I knew is that I needed to move.

 

NOW.

As I started to move Vicki continued to talk to me, however, I couldn’t hear it.  It was as if I was now part of the classic Peanuts Christmas cartoon holiday special, the point where Charlie Brown’s teacher was talking. I glanced over at Vicki and saw her talking.  I could see her lips moving.  All I heard was:

“Waaa waa waaaaa wa waaaaaa…”  I needed to move.

“Waaa waa waa wa waaaaaa…”  She was still talking.. I had to get moving.

“Waaa wa waa wa waaaaaa wa?”  I looked over at her and smiled, raising my right arm and waived, as if to say “Ok, thanks!”.

I only hoped that was an appropriate answer to the question, because while I physically heard it, I didn’t comprehend any of it.  (Sorry honey!)

I made it over to the log carry obstacle, which was two logs with chain handles screwed into them that you had to pick up and carry about 15 yards, then back to the start.  I found a set of short but THICK logs that reminded me of the stump my father would use to chop wood during the fall weekends.  I wanted a short and fat log to carry vs something that was longer, as I didn’t want the longer logs to start twisting inwards as I was walking which could end up banging up on my knees or slowing me down.  I grabbed the chain handles and using a dead lift position stood up, with the weight on my heels.   The stumps were lighter than I expected.

Awesome.  Get it done.
About 30 seconds later I had dropped off the logs and was heading back to the hill to get to the next set of obstacles, focused on my feet, breathing, and keeping one foot in front of the other.  Several of the racers around me were shaking violently, or were wrapped in space blankets and walking like a zombie up the hill.  I tried to say something funny about this being a great time for a socially acceptable group hug for body heat.. What came out of my mouth between gasps of air was more like:

“You.. hug.. now.. group?”   Yep, mental clarity was definitely failing, however, I knew I could do this as long as I could start to dry off and keep moving.   The wind and the sun was helping heat up and wind dry me, however, I still needed to generate body heat.  That, and ONLY that, was going to get me through this.  With only four-ish miles to go, and a majority of them would be downhill, I knew I just needed keep moving,

“Get your core temp up you will be OK..” I told myself.

Just keep your head down and keep moving.

 

Barb wire, water and being ‘puffy’

Cresting the hill after the water station you were presented with 12 obstacles all slammed together.

Six barb wire crawls, three walls to scale over, a dunk wall to go under, a slip wall to get over and to finish it all.. a rope climb all within 100 yards of total space.   Brutal, and awesome, all at the same time.

Let me explain.

 

Upon reaching the top of the hill you hit this mass of obstacles.  You started with a barb wire crawl which was flat and fairly short, but LOW barbwire, as in I couldn’t roll under it, low. After several shoulder scratches and rips into my racing vest,  I had to modify my technique to get through this obstacle by laying on my back and scoot my butt forward, then shift my core to bring my upper body back in line, kind of the movement of an inchworm, but sideways, on its back with all its little tiny feet flailing up in the air.  Since I was laying on my back staring at this barbed wire that was inches above my face, I used my right hand to grab /push the wire as I inched under it.

After this crawl (maybe 20 yards) you had a 5’ wall to get over.   Getting to the wall, I tried to jump up and push myself up into a muscle up move with my arms, similar to what I do at the hot gate at the start of a race.   I pushed and realized my arms were toast and I almost came crashing back down to the ground.  I was surprised how much strength the swim had sapped out of me.  I grunted and hopped up in the air, catching the wall at my waist, throwing my body weight forward, I was more falling over the wall then scaling it.  Getting over to the other side I dropped to the ground and went right back into another 20 yard low barb wire crawl, this one with hay bales strategically placed to make you move around them, while still in the barbed wire crawl.

Reaching the end of this craw, the red shirts were there to direct you into ANOTHER crawl, this one, immediately to your left, heading back to the 5’ wall, however, here in this section of barbed wire, you had a 6’ wall to go over.  Getting out of this crawl, there were a lot of racers staring at this wall as it if was 10’ high.  I could see in their eyes that they were suffering.  I stood up and walked to the wall.   As I show the new racers in the baackyaard on the 6’ wall,  I faced the wall, grabbed the top with both hands,  turned sideways so my right hip was now touching the wall, then threw my right leg on the wall to push off – while jumping with my left leg and hooking it over the top.   Reading this, It sounds way more complicated than it actually is, and yes, being 6’+ does help.  However, it is a sound technique used by folks of all different heights.  Mudstacle videos on YouTube is where I found this technique.  It works great, and uses the big muscles in my legs.  I hooked my left leg, and I was able to pull myself over, only to find another crawl to climb under.  Damn!
Ending this crawl, we turned to the right to now get into another crawl, then scale another 5’ wall, then end with another final crawl.  The final crawl had higher wire, so I was able to roll here.  However, by the time I got to the end and stood up, my world was spinning hard and I stumbled a few times to the left as I tried to get my stability back.

UG!

If you added up the total distance of all of the crawls, they were not as long as some of the standard crawls that I have done as a straight crawl such as the Boston Super this year.  However, with the addition of the walls to break it up, I REALLY liked how this worked.  It allowed for a lot of obstacles to be jammed up together, but not cause bottlenecks.  Well done Spartan!

Finishing the last crawl, you ended at the dunk wall – another deep pool of water and a wall that you had to go completely under water- then after emerging from the other side, go right into the slip wall.   I would be lying if I said the dunk wall was not cold.  I was already cold from the swim, and while I was warming up with all the rolling and crawling around – not to mention the wall work, having then have to jump BACK into the water to completely submerge myself – brought be right back to feeling cold.   I slid into the pool, waded to the wall, reached under with my right hand to find the bottom, took a deep breath, and submerged.    It felt like needles stabbing me in the face and gut.  I could feel my heart rate increasing as I swung under and popped up from under the wall on the other side.

 

Emerging from the water I threw a positive hand gesture at the camera guy who was sitting at the base of the slip wall, and crawled out the pit – dripping wet, noting to the camera guy that he was sitting in front of the only dry part of the wall.  He flashed a smile at me as I went by him.  This slip wall seemed steeper than most, but I had a dry section to scale up, and while my hands were cold,  scaling up and over was relatively quick, even with a lot of focus on getting over the top and down the other side, due to the wind, fatigue, and slight loss of coordination from the swim.  Climbing down the backside I headed to the last obstacle in the series, the rope climb.

Three things I noticed in the rope climb.

1. No pit of water that the ropes were hanging in
2. The total height seemed shorter than other races (maybe it was just my perception), which made me think that this was going to be one I could climb
3. The rules stated that you have to climb up, ring the bell and a controlled descent.  You could not let go and drop to the ground during the descent or you would have to do burpees.  This was a direct metal conflict with #2.  While I can make it up the rope, I am usually smoked by the time I get there, and manage a very hap hazard descent that usually ends with a crash in the pool at the bottom.   I was mentally torn on whether I would be able to knock this one out.

Coming from the Temecula Beast and Sprint weekend the weekend before, where I seriously strained my left bicep (after having reattachment surgery on this muscle 4 years ago) my bicep to this point was pretty much pain free. However, I had lingering doubts as to whether it would handle the climb. Yes, I know, I over compensate for this injury, but when you have completely torn your bicep(s) from your forearms, not once but twice.. You think about this when you are doing arm / bicep based obstacles.  I really, really, do not want to go through that again.  That, plus the fact that I was actually up in body fat percentage for this race, made me head immediately to the burpee area and toss my Geigerrig pack to the ground to then start my 30 burpee penalty.  Out of nowhere, Vicki was once again next to me, this time saying..

“Hey, Before your start your burpees..  It is a low rope.. at least try it”.

I looked at her, looked at the rope, and knew she was right.   From the height, it looked like I needed three good pulls and I could be there.  I headed back to the obstacle.  Looking at it, I confirmed I only needed three GOOD pulls and I would be at the top.  However, I would need all of my grip strength to make it happen and I had to get my mind right.

I grabbed the rope and got a solid foot lock on the first grab, not quite as high as I wanted but it was solid.  I reached up and pulled again, and felt the rope slipping in my hands.  My head wasn’t in this climb (worried about muscle groups and being up in body fat) and my heart wasn’t in it either.  I heard my brain actually say as I started to slip;

“Ennh.. What is 30 burpees at this point.. you have done them all year”

I didn’t fight the lack of grip on the rope, and slid down to the ground.

30 burpees for me.

Burpee count for the race: 60.

Finishing my 30 fairly quickly by my race standards,  I must have been feeling a lot better as Vicki mentioned that she was going to head down the gondola to see me at the end of the race – and I actually understood all of it.  I nodded and took off- heading up hill again to more hiking and obstacles  before we would descent to the two obstacles that could cause problems for me, the Tyrolean traverse and the spear throw.  I took off hiking up and around a short incline for several minutes before we ended up at the Atlas carry.  By this time the wind was really whipping around.  I grabbed the stone and immediately noticed that my hand strength was not there.  I ended up bracing the stone on my thighs as I walked to the end, dropped it, did my 5 burpees, then picked it back up again – baring it on my quads as I shuffled back to the start.

Done.

Two hundred yards off in the distance I could see the Tyrolean traverse.  I also spied several folks falling off of it.  Not good.  My hands were cold and negative thoughts were creeping in.  Time to jog down to this and get this mother done!

Upon reaching the obstacle, I found 3 other people here with me.  Two males, who I had been leap frogging all day, were part of a team of 5.  Not one pack on any of them, all of them around  10 – 14% body fat, and ½ of them not wearing shirts.  How they were not freezing, I do not know.   One of them was on the rope and was using the technique where you hang under the rope, lock your ankles, one above the other on the rope, and then use your shoulder and chest muscles to pull yourself down the rope- dragging your feet.   I stopped at the obstacle and watched.   He finished quickly, then his friend started on the same rope.
This is how tired I was… there and to be 12 ropes to choose from, yet I stood in line for the one that others were using.  Maybe I was thinking that there was luck on this rope, or maybe I was succumbing to society norms or queuing up in a line, or maybe I was just exhausted and wanted a break.  However, before I knew it, the guy in front of me was ringing the bell and off the rope to the sound of “clang clang” and several red shirt volunteers cheering him on – Crossfit style.   For those of you that do not know what that means, Crossfit style motivation isn’t the cheery- bouncy- light clapping of the hands and subtle cheers with elevated pitch in your voice of “good job, waaaay to go!”, that you find at most running road races.  Oh no, Crossfit style cheering is part drill instructor, part motivational speaker, park death metal singer all rolled into one.

“GET ON THAT ROPE SPARTAN.. DON’T YOU F*(&^ING LET GO!!!  MOVE SPARTAN.. MOVE!!  GET THOSE FEET WORKING.. MOVE DAMNIT!  THERE YOU GO.. KEEP MOVING.. DON’T F()*&(ING SLOW DOWN.. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? SPARTANS DO NOT  – N O T  QUIT!!    DO NOT LET GO OF MY ROPE!   HERE WE GO!

HERE IS A SPARTAN, MOVE YOUR A$$!!

Yeah, kind of like that.  To the average person, this style of cheering might seem offensive, and a bit excessive.  To the racer who was 10 miles from finishing, cold, confused, and lacking confidence – it was a call to light a fire in what you can really accomplish.

I grabbed the rope and swung under, locking the back of my left knee on the rope.  Grabbing the rope, I death squeezed it, as it was a ball of playdoh that I was trying to squeeze out between my fingers.  I reached back with my left hand and swung my right knee over the rope, then back to the left, then right.  I was moving fast, I knew I had this.  Within about 15 seconds I looked back and found the bell about 3” from my head.  I reached up with my right hand and tapped it.  Clang- Clang!   My feet dropped to the ground.  Obstacle complete!

I pulled myself up to standing using the rope and started jogging again, this time about 60 yards to the spear throw station.  I also spied about a dozen racers doing burpees.   Jogging over I saw a racer throw wide to the left on a station, and the spear almost went all the way past the bale.  That is the one I want.  Heading there, another racer jumped in front of my and grabbed the tether pulling the rope back to get the spear.  He looked at me and asked.   “How many burpees if I miss? “

NEWBIE ALERT!!!

“Thirty” I replied.

“Oh, OK” as he was now standing on the rope tied to the spear, adjusting his grip on the spear.

“Hey buddy..” I said, pointing to his feet.

“Take all that rope and put it on the OTHER side of the wall, so you do not step on it.”

He looked at me then down at his feet, he stepped off the rope, put about ½ of it over the wall, and proceeded to step back on the other half as I leaned back to throw.

I opened my mouth to say something, then Mike Boyman’s rule #1 from middle school math came flooding back into my head.

Rule #1: “The dumb must suffer”.

I shut my mouth and watched him throw a fairly straight throw.. until the tether became taunt from him standing on it, and the spear crashed to the ground.

“BURPEES!” yelled one of the volunteers to my left.

I quickly go to the tether line, pulled it back, grabbed ALL of the rope and put it on the other side of the wall, checking my feet twice to make sure I was nowhere near the line. Found my grip, squared my hips, raised my right hand to aim and let it fly.

Perfect center mass stick.   Then another to my left, and another to my right stuck in the bales as well.

Boom.. boom.. boom.. three spear sticks in a row.

The volunteers all burst out in cheers!

“We have been here all day, you three are the first three guys to go three in a row!  AROO!”  They yelled.

I looked at the other two racers and threw out a fist bump, glad that I wasn’t in burpee zone, and started to jog downhill, the last big series of descents before the end.   I was getting close now, I just needed to race smart to not injure myself.

 

Ibuprofen and the downhill shuffle

One thing that I have realized when hiking and racing big mile races is that while my knees and legs can climb UP for what seems forever and not complain, going downhill is an entirely different story.  On downhill hikes and with some longer downhill runs, my knees ache, a lot.   Know that I would have to get OFF this mountain at some point, I was smart enough to pack some ibuprofen for my race.   To this point in the year, I had never had to take these meds during a race.  I probably should have for the Sprint in Temecula to offset the bicep throbbing, however, at this point in the race, my knees were starting to talk to me.  From years of being Morbidly Obese and treating my body as an amusement park, my joints have suffered a lot of abuse.  I know it, however, I try to ignore it.   Hitting the water station after the spear throw after a fairly steep jogging descent, I knew I needed to med up.  I grabbed a few cups of water, ½ a sleeve of Black Cherry Cliff Shot bloks, and 4 ibuprofen.   Down the hatch!

Due to the lack of materials in my stomach, I knew in about 30- 40 minutes I would start feeling a bit better, or at least my knees would, even with all the pounding as I descended about 2500’ in three miles.   Throwing the cup in the trash I pushed on, jogging down the trail, thinking the entire time.

“A 5K to go, a 5K to go..”

Running down switched back trails for about a mile I was passing more people than I was being passed.  I was around 4 to 4.5 miles per hour, not super speedy, but letting gravity pull me down the hill as I shuffled to avoid rocks and debris in the trail.  Rounding a corner I once again ran into the shirtless team who were just in front of me coming up to the next obstacle, the Stairway to Spartan.

 

For some reason, this obstacle since the Boston Super has given me trouble.  Maybe due to the location of where they had it on the course, or in the case of day two in Boston during the double Super weekend, that first wall section was very slick.  Regardless, this obstacle has been in the back of my mind.   Each race I have gotten over it, some with a quick push, others by myself.   During the Sprint the weekend before, this obstacle is when my left bicep REALLY let me know that everything wasn’t funky in funkytown, and I had to have spent 3-4 minutes just LOOKING at the thing during that race.   Running up to it today, the wall was bone dry, and the shirtless team peeled off to the left to scale up that side of it, one at a time, talking to each other the whole time.   I made a point to not even slow down or break stride as I ran to the right side, planted my left foot about three feet up on the wall and exploded upwards – reaching for the top of the wall, with my right hand and the top of the first 2×6 “step” with my left.

BOOM.  Both hands connected.  I quickly transferred to pulling with my shoulders and arms and got my feet on top of the wall, then continued climbing up and over, then down the back side.  I straightened out my left arm and rotated my wrist left to right as I started jogging again.  The bicep felt fine.

Obstacle complete.

I continued jogging downhill for about another mile of single track switchbacks, finding myself in the second seat of a 5 person group.  We were all jogging at the same pace, and think thankful to be able to match someone else’s pace at this late stage in the race.  So, for about a mile we talked and jogged as a group – which was a great mental distraction from my knees saying “ ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch” with every step.   We talked about trifectas, the races we had ran this year, how old we were (I was leading the pack on that one) and how we were feeling post swim.   Then it happened.

The sighting.

This BEAST race was about to live up to its name.

 

You Gotta be F()*&ing KIDDING ME!

I was looking at the feet in front of me when someone behind me yelled this out.
I looked up to see about 80 yards ahead of us the sand pit for the bucket carry, however, at this moment, a row of trees were blocking me from seeing the course.   Ten yards later, I could now see what that other racer was yelling about.

This bucket carry, by far was the longest and steepest I had ever seen.   It seemed as if it would never end.  Much farther than Palmerton in 2014.  Much steeper than New Jersey, and we are doing this at over 6000’.

 

My brain flashed to one word.

“AWESOME!”  Yes, I was excited.  I was excited to see a World Championship level obstacle.  I was excited to not only see but to get ready to engage in a soul crushing, strength sapping, heart rate POUNDING obstacle.   This would be it.

I quickly filled up the bucket to the groans of the racers besides me.  Everyone was complaining about this obstacle, spitting hate and discontent- and there I am, smiling as I fill my bucket.

The volunteers were yelling the entire time about how the sand would settle during the climb and to make sure that the holes were COVERED with dirt, so you could NOT see daylight through the holes.  I highlight this on purpose, because there still seems to be some issue with men understanding that dirt needs to be above the holes.  I mean really, two extra inches of dirt in your bucket is going to break you?  Fill up your damn bucket.

Slipping my cushy wristbands to my fingers as I have done for 17 other races this year, I hefted up the bucket which was mounded with dirt spilling over the top edge.   I was not going to get tagged for a redo on this one.  Passing the starting volunteer, everyone was bitching about the hill and the distance.   I shot a smile and caught his eye, followed by:

“This is going to be awesome!”

He looked at me, smirked and threw me a head nod.   AROO brother.   Get it done.

There are three major issues with severely elevated bucket and for that matter, sand bag carries.

1. The elevation and grade of the course makes for slow going
2. The steepness of the terrain makes for a very high heart rate, as in 160+ when moving
3. People all constantly in the way

 

Let me start with number three.  When you are running in a race, 90% of the racers follow the rule that if you are slower, you move towards to right.  Faster runners pass on the right.  If you need to stop, you move even farther to the right, then stop.   For some reason, at this point huge number of racers were wandering all over the uphill weaving left and right, and then stopping and dropping their bucket RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURSE.
Come on guys!  Move over before you stop.  I know, you are tied.  WE ARE ALL TIRED!   Throw a fellow Spartan some love and try to get out of the main trail of the obstacle! Several of us behind you end up all rear ending each other and slowing down, and for the few of us that are only looking a few feet in front of them, it sucks to have to stop and move laterally.

Yes, I know the large scheme of things, this is a very, very, very minor issue.  However, at this point in time it send my frustration meter through the roof.

During this climb I was doing everything I could to keep moving at a steady pace.  Power breathing, focusing on directly in front of me and not the top, and counting steps.  My count number on this hill was 50.  Once I hit fifty, I would pull OFF TO THE SIDE, and rest my bucket on my thigh, standing in a kind of lazy “Warrior One” Yoga pose, with my bucket on my front thigh.  I sure as hell was not going to put it on the ground, as it takes a ton more effort to pick it back up from the ground that it does from my thigh.  At each 50 steps, I would rest for about a minute to get my heart rate back down, then push on for another 50.  I ended up pausing nine times before I got to the top of the climb.  This mother was long!
Reaching the top, I didn’t stop, rather, I rounded the top and changed my number set to 65 on the downhill.

 

 

My hands were aching even with the wrist bands on them, by arms were getting quite sore and I didn’t want to drop this thing on the downward slide.   Several stops later, not for my heart rate, but to relax and refresh my grip, I was back down to the bottom.  Passing the volunteer at the bottom who was yelling about non full buckets to the racers going up and checking them as they passed by him, he looked at me and asked a simple question.

“Swim or carry?”

I knew he was asking which obstacle was harder.

I replied quickly, “Swim, that sucked.. this was awesome.”

He looked at me as if I was crazy and then went on to asking the same question of the racers behind me, as I dumped my bucket back in the pile.  All I could hear was “carry, carry, carry, carry..” everyone hated this obstacle.

Tossing my bucket back to the pile I again started back down the trail to where I could see the 7 and 8’ wall in the distance.

RANT ON

** It should be noted that it was posted on several of the social media groups that late Saturday and Sunday, the man himself, Joe DeSena, was at the midway point of the bucket carry tossing heavy stones into buckets of racers who were not filled to the proper level.  Many folks were replying to this post with a
“Yeah, I got a stone too!”   I really think these folks failed to understand why you got the stone to start with.  

You didn’t get one because Joe likes you.  

You got one because you were cheating the obstacle to start with.   You are two miles from finishing, Spartan up and do it right.  **

RANT OFF

 

 

Walls, a man down and indecent exposure

 

Running down to the 7 and 8’ walls, I knew I was close to the end.  I could see the venue off in the distance.  I could hear the loudspeaker of the festival area.  I just had a bit more to do, I just needed to get it done.    Running down to the 7’ wall, I saw several racers trying and failing to grab the top, sliding back down and backing up again to think about their technique.   As I did with the Stairway to Spartan, I didn’t even break stride, found an open section of wall, and attacked it.  Planting my left foot pushing upwards, catching the wall under my right arm pit and swinging my left leg over to hook the top.

One done.

Transferring over, I landed on the back side and starting jogging again, not giving myself any time to think about what was coming up next, the 8 footer.

At this wall everyone was stopped.   I ran up to this one, found a lane that I liked on the wall paused for a few deep breaths and again charged this wall.  I got a solid purchase with both hands and starting walking up the wall, throwing my left leg out to just crest the top of the wall and hook it.  With a loud grunt I pushed and pulled myself over the wall, gingerly landing on the back side.  The walls were done!

YES!!

From here the wide trail we were running on turned back to single track and made a VERY sharp left turn.  So sharp that I actually stopped running and almost missed it.  I could see how plenty of racers would have ran right past this turn even with all the flagging tape and arrow signs pointing to the right direction, it was quick and abrupt.  A small uphill hike (300 yards) later, we were at the second set of hurdle obstacles, which I quickly hopped over and continued to the obstacle entitled the “Pit of Dispair”.

This was a combination drop into a pit with barbed wire and mud, then emerge to hit another 6’ wall, and drop off the backside of the wall into more mud before climbing out of the pit.    At least that is how it was supposed to be.  When I got there, 70% of the water had soaked into the ground, so while the ground was damp, it was not muddy.  The barb wire was also very high, so I could even bear crawl through most of it before hitting the wall.  Right in front of me was a pair of older racers, both male, I would say in their 60’s.  I could tell one was hurting pretty bad from the course from the speed he was moving.  While I was finishing the last bit of the crawl, the stronger of the two had scaled the wall, climbed out of the pit, and then came back around to help the weaker one.  As I emerged from the wire, the weaker one was now on the top of the wall and transferring over.  I grabbed the wall like I had done back at mile ten and threw my leg hook and began to rotate over the top.  I was right at the top of the wall getting ready to throw my body over when I looked at the base of the wall on the back side and the racer who had scaled the wall before me was crumpled up in a pile on the back side of the wall.

Fearing I was going to land directly on him, I quickly threw my left ankle BACK over the wall to act like a brake/anchor to keep me from rolling off the top.

“Hey buddy!”

Looking back to the racer who was still on the starting side of the wall.

“Your friend is down over here!”  He quickly looked at me then hopped out of the pit and climbed back in on the far side to help his friend up and out of the area.

Hanging out on top of this wall while this was going on (honestly, if I had not looked I would have landed squarely ON HIM), once he moved out of the way, I unhooked my left leg and let my legs swing over the wall.

RIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

I landed on the back side of the wall to the sound of ripping materials.  At that same time my nether region could now feel a bit more of the breezes blowing down this side of the mountain.  Looking down, from the waist band my shorts, right down the front, between my legs and half way up the back side my shorts had split open. I must have snagged something on the top when I was waiting to get off the wall.

With the lining of the shorts, still intact, all you could see was the shorts flapping in the breeze while the stark while lining of the inside of the shorts was a stark contrast against the back color of the Under Armor compression shorts.  Looking down at the damage I sighed and started running.  Being too old and too tired to care.  I had a race to finish!  I was just glad the compression shorts were still intact.   That could have made burpees interesting.

Within a few minutes I had a small but steep descent that poured in to the backside of several condos that were very close to the finish line.   A lot of spectators were hanging out watching the racers amble past, some cheering some staring in disbelief at what they were seeing.  Making through that, I was now on flat ground, with two obstacles remaining, the traverse wall and the multi rig x2.    You see, at the World Championships, one multi rig isn’t enough of bars, rope and rings to hang and swing from.  Oh no, you have add a second rig stacked against the first one.   As I was running to the traverse wall I could see 99% of the racers were doing burpees there.

As I was coming up to the walls, I quickly again scanned them.  The walls to the right, near the screaming crowds, the walls and pegs for your feet were quite warn, so I elected to migrate to the left and hit one of the walls there.  14.x miles, two obstacles to go.  Suck it up Princess and get it done.

I climbed up on the wall and started alternating hands and feet.  Hand, hand, foot, foot, hand, foot, hand, hand, foot, foot.. I was moving well until about 60% of the way through when I could feel my left leg starting to shake.  I paused for a second did a couple of quick power breaths, and kept pushing.

“Tight core, tight core, foot, hand, tight core..” I kept telling myself.

80% of the way I had a bad hand grip and could feel it start to slip..

“HELL NO” I thought I am not doing burpees here.

I moved my left forward to one more step, loaded it will all of my weight,  then leapt for the cowbell.

Clang – clang!

YES!  Obstacle complete.

I walked up the Rig obstacle fist pumping like a prize fighter who had just won a 12 round boxing event by knockout.   I touched the left side of the rig then went right to work on the burpees.

One.. two … three….
“Fourteen miles done, 4 thousand feet of elevation.. I was almost done.”   I thought.

Four.. five.. six…

“Up the hill, up to the peak, the sand bag, done!  The sled drag, done, the Atlas stone done!”

Eleven.. twelve.. thirteen..

“Through the water, throw the barbed wire, through slip wall.. sticking the spear..

I could hear Vicki yelling on the other side of the venue at me.  I was so close to being done.

Twenty seven.. twenty eight.. twenty nine…
“Down the mountain, up the Stairway to Spartan, over the walls, finished that bucket carry!”

Thirty!

Burpee count for the race: 95 (+5 for the Atlas Carry)

I picked myself up from the last burpee, grabbed my pack, and jogged over to the finish line (which was missing a fire due to the California drought and the extreme fire danger in the area).  I crossed the line in 6:02.  I was not going to win anything for this time,  but I finished and kept the 3 rules intact.

14+ miles, 4000’ feet of elevation, five Spartan Trifectas complete.

I was a Spartan World Championship beast FINISHER!

The elevation didn’t break me, the course didn’t break me, and most importantly, my own MIND didn’t break me.

I was able to prove to myself that it was possible – and set the stage for bigger goals next year.  (Did you catch that?  Good.. more on that in a few months)

I was an official SWC Beast FINISHER!

AROO!

 

Five Trifectas done.. Now where is my damn Vanilla Almond cliff bar…. (or two?)

 

Here is a great video recap of this race, I was leap frogging this group the entire day.
Leticia Becerra’s Tahoe Video.