I had been “retired” from semi-pro football since a 2010 quadriceps injury, but always needing some kind of athletic outlet, I played co-ed indoor and sand volleyball with some friends in South Dakota since to stay active. A friend in Nebraska texted me in May of 2015 about this race coming up in June called a Spartan that I had never heard of, and asked me to run with him in Colorado.. “Oh hell no”! That was my initial response, because I knew he was a regular runner having taken part in marathons, half-marathons and relay marathons in recent years and my idea of running distance was a 100-yard football field. Why in the hell would anyone run 13 miles on purpose?!
Dave explained to me this wasn’t just a straight out run, this thing was different. This “race” was going have obstacles, mud, and other “fun” stuff to break up the running. Plus, he didn’t want to drive it alone. After some arm twisting, I agreed and drove to his place 3 hours away, spent the night, then took off for Colorado another 8 hours away. I had not run further than a mile in at least a decade.
When we arrive in Colorado, I meet another guy who will be running with us, another sucker Dave convinced this would be a good idea. Chad was living in Western Colorado and made the drive over with his girlfriend and the four of us would be sharing a condo for the weekend. That first night, we explored the ski town, found some food and had a couple of beverages then went back to kick back and prepare for the morning start.
Spartan Race loves to destroy your legs right out of the gate and break your soul. At least that is what it felt like to me trudging up that first incline. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into and most of the time on that mountain is still a blur. Dave was in decent running condition and was easily bounding along the trails while the elevation was sucking the life out of me with every breath. I had no problem with the walls and balance obstacles, and then came the monkey bars. Easy stuff! We all do monkey bars as a kid! Except that was when I weighed about 110 pounds not 230. I got through, but I knew I was in trouble if there were anymore. And there were…the rig, and rope climb for starters. Burpee city for me after shelling my unprepared grip muscles.
Then we turned the corner where the “Beast” runners split off from the “Sprinters” and I’m looking up at a field of snow and “what the hell is that?” Barbed wire in the snow? Yep…frozen icy snow we had to crawl through uphill. “This is different”. I’m glad I had my sunglasses or the reflection would have been painful to my eyes (I am light sensitive, but have excellent night vision…the trade off I guess).
After coming out of the snowfield, I wrongfully assumed we had reached the top of the race and the rest was downhill. Wrong again! They took us up to 9,000 feet I believe, before finally going back down towards the festival area. The sequence of obstacles are a blur to me. Making it to the end was a welcome sight. I barely cleared the fire jump, crossing the timing mat at 2 hours 16 minutes 49 seconds. “And this was only a 5K distance? Aren’t 5Ks like 30 minute races”?
Dave was right, this wasn’t a normal race like I was expecting. Chad and I were smoked, the climbing obstacles got us at times, especially me and I ended up doing about 160 burpees all together. Sitting on the ground I thought to myself, “this was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done”. We grabbed our free finishers beer and talked over what we had just done to ourselves and how it was going to hurt driving home 8 hours tomorrow.
After getting home and looking over the scrapes and bruises of the weekend, the thought going through my mind was “I’m better than that, right? I’ve been an athlete all my life, how could I not complete some of those tasks, or run as strongly as I should have”?
I committed to fix my weaknesses and try again. When 2016 came around, I selected the three races I could drive to from South Dakota and first on the list was the Chicago Super, followed by the Minnesota Sprint and finally, to complete the Trifecta, I returned to the scene of the crime and tackled the Breckenridge Beast. Make no mistake, they all kicked my ass in different ways, but I completed them, earned my trifecta and lit a fire in me that was lost when I no longer had football. I had a reason again to lift heavy things, to condition my body, and more importantly, teach myself how to run long distances.
