Spartan Race 2013 Recap - Jess vs. Tower of Death

Call me crazy, but I did it again. I knew what was in store for me and I signed up for another Spartan Race anyway. I was lighter and stronger and had been making great progress at the gym for the last couple of months, so I had high hopes for an easier time this year. Of course, I also had an injury that was definitely going to affect my performance. I had sprained my left hand in December, and it was not fully healed yet. So, in keeping with my personal tradition, I went into another Spartan adventure with an injury. I was ready. I had been diligently practicing my burpees.

We were not as fortunate with the weather this time. The weekend before the race, we had had snow flurries and highs in the 30s. It had warmed up a bit, but the day was overcast and just under 60 degrees. I knew the mud pit and anything involving water was going to be cold. To me, that was more daunting than any of the obstacles. I hate being cold. That’s why I live in Georgia.

Once again, we had to park a mile away and enjoy a nice warmup walk to the venue.  For some reason, I was just as nervous this year. Maybe because I knew what I was in for. Maybe I was worried about aggravating my sprained hand. Maybe I remembered how bad I felt for days after the last one.

 

As we approached the race site, I could not believe my eyes. A huge and terrifying obstacle came into sight and it took all the courage I could muster not to turn around and run back through the parking lot, hop in the car and drive home to safety and my warm sofa.  My nemesis the shipping containers with the rope net was back. And worse. Now, there were two stacks of shipping containers. There was a net to go up, a net to go across – in between them – and a net to go down. Shit. Those suckers were high. In a particularly sadistic twist, to enter the venue, we had to walk through this Tower of  Death, under the net, in full view of the racers scrambling across over our heads. What the hell was I thinking, doing this again?

We had planned for traffic and parking this year, so we had plenty of time to get checked in and stretch out before our 2:30 start time. I was anxious and my mouth was dry, but I tried not to drink too much water since none of the port-o-potties had any toilet paper.

I could see a few obstacles in the distance – familiar sights like the rope climb, slippery wall, mud pit, vertical wall and spear toss. I was already calculating the number of burpees I would be doing that day, probably around 180. Since I could not grip with my left hand, anything with a rope was out, as were the super high walls and the monkey bars. My goal for the day was to just do the best I could and try to finish under two hours – that would be about 30 minutes less than our time from last year.

 

While in the starting line, I was waiting for the spark, the excitement, the anticipation. Nope. Not there yet. We took off and once again, the first obstacle was climbing over some barricades with a big mud puddle on the other side. Not too bad. What was bad was the guy blasting us with a fire hose as we did it. Great, starting out cold and wet. I was hoping that running for a bit would help me warm up. No such luck. Next was crawling under some nets then climbing over the four foot walls. Easy. Then a very long run through the woods and a walk through the creek. I took comfort in the fact that the cold water meant there probably weren’t any snakes to worry about.

Then came the five foot walls, some to go under, some to go over. We actually got over them on our own this time. Yay for us!

Next was a new obstacle, a series of pegs sticking up about three feet above the ground. The goal was to maintain your balance while walking from peg to peg. Not too bad – until a guy came running through in a tight speedo. I think all the ladies were thrown off by that, but we made it across. No burpees yet.

Then, it was time to face my arch enemy – the Tower of Death. I hesitated for just a second before charging forward. Getting to the top was much the same as last time. Deep Breaths. One step at a time. Don’t look down. However, unlike last time, the net was bigger and there was a stampeding herd of boisterous young guys clambering up all around me. The net was swaying violently back and forth and it took all my strength to keep a firm grip on the ropes. I made it to the top somehow. Then I realized I would have to go across a net to the other side. I could see the people beneath me. I could see how far down it was. As I pulled myself up onto the top, I took a moment to analyze the various strategies that other racers were using to get across the net. The young guys were dashing across upright. F***  that. Some of the more cautious people were crawling. Some were rolling. Hell no. I knew that the only way I was getting across that thing was if I could somehow do it without looking down. So, I ended up doing sort of a sideways-crab-walk. Slide one leg over, then the butt, then the other leg. Eyes straight ahead to the horizon. Not looking down. Not even for a second.  Both hands with a firm grip on the ropes at all times. I was vaguely aware of the people walking beneath us, but did my best not to acknowledge that I was that high up. Just keep scooting.

 

 

In my preoccupation with not plummeting to my death, I failed to notice the camera placed at the top of the obstacle and as a result, there are now some rather undignified crotch shots of me crab-walking sideways across the net. Thanks a lot, Spartan folks. Those moments were a real joy to relive on video.

More stampeding guys made the descent as terrifying as possible. By the time I reached solid ground, my legs were trembling. Kris took off running and it took me a minute to catch up to her. I did not feel triumphant at that moment, more like just glad to be alive.

Then the vertical wall. Again, I lasted for two steps. 30 burpees. A short tire flip, no problem. Then an obstacle that looked like fun. Big muddy hills to climb up, then slide down the other side into a pool of muddy water. It only looked fun because I didn’t yet realize how cold that water was. Sliding down a muddy hill, there was no way to stop yourself until you were up to your chin in the water. In the freezing water. The nighttime lows had been in the 30s, so that water was horrendous. We had to do that about 3 or 4 times. When I emerged from the final pool, I was basically a walking mudsicle.

We were about at mile 2 by now, and I still wasn’t really into it. Perhaps I was waiting for the thrill of excitement I had experienced during my first Spartan Race. I don’t think I really got my racing spark until about mile 3, and even then it was subdued. Most of the obstacles were the same as last year, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were much easier the second time around. Maybe I really was making some progress. The concrete block on the chain was manageable this time, as was the bucket of concrete on a rope. The swamp wasn’t as deep this year, so it was barely up to our knees. And I had no open wounds to worry about.

They wussed out on the sandbags this year. There were pancake-shaped cloth bags instead of the real things from last year. This time, they had different bags for men and women. The real sandbags last year had weighed about 40 pounds. I don’t know how much the little girly pancakes weighed, but it couldn’t have been more than 15 -20 pounds at the most. The trek uphill was not nearly as daunting as it had been the year before. It was like walking up a grassy hill with a pillow on my back. I did not have the same feeling of accomplishment after that one.

 

 

The one area in which I did have a sense of achievement was in running. To be honest, I don’t really like running that much and don’t consider myself a runner by any means. But I do it. I run on the treadmill at the gym and do run-walk intervals on the trails around my house. The course was between 4 ½ and 5 miles and we were able to actually run a good bit of it, much better than the year before. So, it was rewarding to see that my cardio had dramatically improved over the last year.

Kris kicked butt on the monkey bars and made it all the way across – you go girl! I did my burpees and moved on. More burpees at the high walls and rope climb. And the spear toss. And the slippery wall. Good thing I had practiced them.

Finally, the mud pit. The mud was drier, harder and not as squishy and mucky this year. That made it a lot harder to crawl through. It was also full of rocks, which dug into my knees and elbows when I tried to army crawl like before. After gashing my knee on a sharp rock, I abandoned that approach and invented my own move. I started out in child’s pose (like in yoga) and slowly slid sideways, ducking my head and shoulders under the barbed wire as I went. It was not the most ladylike approach, but then again, neither was crawling through a mud pit in the first place, and at least I tried to stay aware of my position so that I wasn’t sticking my muddy ass in some poor guy’s face.  

It seemed like the barbed wire was lower in the second half of the mud pit, so it was back to my belly, inch by inch. My shirt was crusted with mud, which made it heavy and pulled it downwards as I crawled over the muddy ground. Luckily, as I reached the end, I noticed that I was about to pop out of my top, so I had time to tuck the girls back in before standing up.

 

Two guys with big padded sticks blocked the way to the finish line. I guess they were supposed to be gladiators, but they didn’t really look very warrior-like. They seemed bored and only gave me a half-hearted whack to the midsection as I ran by. Then it was done. We finished in 1:52, meeting the goal of under two hours and beating our previous time by almost 40 minutes. Not Spartan elites by any means, but a big improvement over the year before.

 

I was less euphoric this time, mostly just cold and tired.

I was mentally preparing myself for the freezing hose torture to clean off the mud, but what I was not prepared for was that they had now attached high-pressure nozzles to all of the hoses. Not only was I adding insult to injury by blasting my already freezing body with ice water, but now I also got the sheer pleasure of pressure-washing my boobs. Nice. Thanks a lot. And pressure washing the gash in my knee and the scrapes on my elbows felt great too. Even the big, tough guys were squealing like little girls while blasting their skin with the frigid water. I did a quick rinse to get the biggest clumps out, then stopped while I still had some flesh left intact.

Luckily, I had come prepared this time. I brought some warm clothes, a big bottle of water, a wash cloth and some baby wipes. I went into the port-o-potty and stripped down. I used the tepid bottled water and washcloth to get the rest of the mud, then the baby wipes for the remaining grime. I dried off, put on my warm clean clothes and slip-on shoes and I was once again a happy camper.  My skin felt great after the mud bath and pressure washing.

I don’t know what I really expected from this race. I guess I wanted to feel the exhilaration of the first time. It didn’t happen. I was glad that I had done it, and it felt good that the obstacles were easier and that I could run a lot more of the course, but the thrill of the first time could not be recaptured. 

The aftermath of the Spartan Race was not as harsh the second time around. My arms, back and shoulders were a bit sore, but not miserably so. The arms and legs took quite a beating and were covered with welts, scrapes and bruises, but those too were not as bad as the year before. The gash on the knee healed pretty quickly.

I don’t know if I will do the Spartan Race again. There are so many new and different obstacle races and mud runs in my area that I think I want to give those a shot. The Spartan Race has also gotten ridiculously expensive. Yes, I know that the price is cheaper if you sign up earlier. That is great for people who do not have to work around jobs and kids’ schedules. I hardly know what I’m making for dinner the day before, there is no way I can pay for a race six months in advance. It was a gamble for me to sign up a month ahead of time. So, let’s see…. $95 registration fee, $14 mandatory participant insurance fee, $10 processing fee, $10 for parking, and $5 to check my bag during the race. Nearly $135 and they couldn’t even provide freaking toilet paper in the port-o-potties?  I can sign up for two or three other races for that price.  Sorry, Spartan Race, what we had was beautiful, but I think it’s time for me to move on.