The super spartan is the mid-range race of the three spartan signature races. This one was 8.3 miles of trails, obstacles, water challenges and strength challenges. It’s arguably the toughest obstacle race I’ve done. Although there wasn’t a fire jump (too hot and dry, and it’s a state park), we did have a brush fire while I was out on the course! I didn’t see it, but we could hear the sirens; it was quickly contained and put out and no one had to leave the course. There wasn’t a spear-throwing obstacle, either. Both of these things I had been looking forward to… I understand the reasoning for the fire jump, but not the spear throw. Whatever — it was still good fun, super challenging and really made me question whether it was a good idea that I chose this race. At least I didn’t puke or pee myself…

All Clean Before the Race – Dork Pose

My wave wasn’t until 1:45pm, so we had plenty of time to get there and get settled. Everything was moving along nicely and we watched waves go out every 15 minutes with the same, “AROO, AROO, AROO — GO, GO GO!” rallying cry. That got monotonous, but at least once I took off, I didn’t have to hear it anymore. It was 82F and humid with white fully clouds and full sun. Since the majority of the running we did was on the trails that wind all through the park, we had pretty good shade throughout most of the course.

I hadn’t slept well at all the night before because I was nervous. Also, I have this pain-in-the-ass thing about not being able to eat much when I’m nervous. This causes me a lot of grief on days I have long races, because then I’m not fueled properly. Not to mention that I was tired from not sleeping well. It would be a lot easier if I didn’t get myself so riled up and anxious, but well — that’s just how I roll. It wouldn’t be me if there weren’t something to worry about, justifiable or not.

I wore a small Camelbak hydration pack, due to the heat and my dubious physical state with regard to fuel. I had hydrated well over the previous few days and I did drink half an orange Gatorade about an hour before my wave time (gross), so I did really well with regard to hydration; which was good, because by mile 7, people were falling out. I’d hear screams, see folks fall on the ground, grasping their calves and even some folks puking. It was rough.

Aside from all the trail running, we ran parallel to a beach in waist-high water, swam across the river, and did the usual obstacles — walls (lots of walls and they got progressively higher), crawls and cross-bar (hand-over-hand). The cross-bars were built for full-size men, so smaller people like me had some issues with reaching from bar to bar. Swinging out, mid-reach on the third bar, my back hand slipped and I fell to the gravel-covered ground in a grand pinwheel thanks to the inertia of my swing. I landed right palm down and on my right side. Well actually, I slammed more than landed. After gathering myself, I grabbed a rock, threw it and yelled, “fuck”. People cheered and clapped. Why do they clap for everything during this race?

Bruises from Gravel – some weren’t showing yet

Since I fell, I had to do 30 burpees. It was easier falling.

The strength challenges were something I’d never experienced before during an obstacle race. We had to pull a huge cement block which was attached to a thick chain — down a road, up a hill, across the hill and then back down to where we’d started. We then trotted on down the dirt road a bit further and there was another challenge — the sand bells. They call them Spartan Pancakes, but that really makes them sound so much more sweet. They’re neoprene “pancakes” filled with sand. There were men’s pancakes and women’s pancakes. Of course, the women’s pancakes were trimed in pink (how creative and gendered). We had to haul the sand bells down the dirt road, up a hill, across the hill and then back down to where we’d started. They were heavy, we’d already gone almost 6 miles, and I was grumpy. On down the road we went again. We came upon another challenge. It was a dead lift of a huge cement chunk. We had to pick it up, cross the dirt road, SOFTLY set it down, do 5 burpees (yay), pick the chunk back up, walk it across the dirt road to where we’d originally picked it up, then set it down again SOFTLY. The race volunteers emphasized SOFTLY — if you were to plop it, drop it, bobble it, whatever, you’d have to do 30 burpees. It was surprisingly easy for me, but several folks around me struggled with it.

On down the gritty, dusty road some more and we came upon some huge tractor tires. Here, we had to flip them across the road three times, then flip them back across, three more times. Good fun — not. They had smaller tires for women, but they were still huge truck tires and many women were having issues lifting them.

More trotting down the dirt road (I was missing the relatively cooler trails by now), and we came upon a contraption consisting of several pulleys way up high attached to huge, thick ropes. One end of the rope had a knot and the other end of the rope (on the other side of the pulley) was attached to — you guessed it — a big chunk of cement. We had to pull the chunk of cement all the way up to the pulley, let it touch the pulley, and then SOFTLY lower it down to the ground. The damn thing weighed almost as much as I did. I sat my butt on the ground and muscled that thing up. Then, I had to work to not allow it to slam down to the ground, sending me up into the pulley. By then, I was really grumpy, so I got it up, set it down, got up off the ground and trotted off. Oh — 30 burpees for anyone who couldn’t do it or who couldn’t set it down SOFTLY.

Now, we were at mile 7. We were out of the forest now and were running along a sidewalk that ran along a road. It was a slowly inclining trek up to a causeway over the river. Across the road, folks on their way back from the bridge were puking, cramping, screaming, walking and generally not looking like they were enjoying themselves. I did NOT want to be one of them…

At the top of the road on the bridge, we had to use a rope to climb down (Batman style) the side of the embankment, down to the bank of the river. We then had to go under the bridge, grab a bucket attached to a rope, and fill the bucket with river water three times, each time pouring the water into a plastic trash can. Once done, we had to dump the water out of the trash can and back into the river. We were up on a wall, and had to lower the bucket about three feet down to the river. A full bucket of water is very heavy…

After that, we continued under the bridge, over to the embankment on the other side and pulled ourselves up a rope to the same road. We then crossed the road over to the side where it seemed everyone was dying. A girl puked over the side, a guy cried out, grabbed his right calf and fell to the ground. I kept my head down and kept moving. The compression calf sleeves I decided to wear appear to have worked really well. I didn’t have any cramping issues at all, in spite of the heat and the physical challenges (and 8.3 miles of running).

We were now finally on our way to the festival area, the final challenges and the finish line! First, the rope climb. My right palm was inflamed and had turned a nice, dark purple. I approached the rope, but when I grabbed it, white lights and stabbing pain ensued. Not wanting to injure it any further, I showed the race volunteer my hand and she pointed me over to some soft hay and of course, I did my 30 burpee penance for not being able to complete that obstacle. (Keeping count? That’s 65 burpees.)

After that, it was the block wall. It’s basically like a rock wall, but instead of climbing up on hand holds and foot holds, you go horizontally across. It’s not easy at all — and you’re not allowed to touch the ground or use the top of the wall at all. After getting off that, we made our way to the longest damn mud crawl I’ve ever seen. You couldn’t even really call it “mud” — there was some water pooling in it, making some mud, but a lot of the water had absorbed, leaving thick mud filled with gravel under very low hanging barbed wire. Trying to do a military crawl was literally painful. Micro cuts and scrapes were forming on my forearms and knees. The Princess was there now, taking photos and encouraging me. She got a genius idea — turn sideways and ROLL. She was yelling at me to roll. Me and everyone struggling there looked up at her at first as if she were nuts. As we thought about it more, we looked up at her as if she were our guardian angel. Rolling sideways didn’t hurt and it was a hell of a lot faster! Of course, it covered us completely in mud, so BONUS!

Mud crawl with gravel chaser

Once through that mess, I stood up, trying not to fall from being so dizzy. (Rolling does that to you.) Next was the slippery wall. This was at a 45 degree angle, wet and covered in mud. There were several ropes to grab with good knots in them. I took a deep breath, jumped, grabbed a rope and shot right up! Easy-peasy. Going down the other side, I crab-walked down the ladder-like back wall.

Me at the top of the slippery wall

Crab Walkin’ on down

Almost down!

As I looked ahead, I could see The Gladiator Pit and two big dudes with pugil sticks. Another deep breath, and I run straight at the first guy. For some reason, I started laughing. He smiled, swung and caught me on my left upper arm. I was so muddy, I slipped right by. The second guy was smiling too, smacked me in the same arm and I pushed past him. The guy running in behind me got whopped and flipped upside-down. Sorry dude!

Gladiator Pit – Don’t pummel me, dude!

Then I crossed the finish line! 2:42:01; not too bad for my first Super Spartan and not really knowing what to expect.

Finisher Medal – Gratuitous Pose

In spite of my nervousness, lack of fuel and doubts, I made it through and really none-the-worse for the experience. My bruises are still healing, my hand is fine and not sore anymore and I feel happy that it’s over. If I can ever get myself to calm the fuck down and stop freaking out before every race, I may just try to do this one again next year. We’ll see… in the meantime, enjoy the awesome photo the Spartan Race folks gave me for free; luckily, it was before I started rolling…

Chari – Action Shot

Edited to add: If you’d like to view video of the actual course and challenges, Spartan Race has the Miami Super Spartan video up on their Spartan TV site: Super Spartan FL 2013

1. Good trail socks – they’ll keep crap out and protect your feet; you don’t want socks full of sand/wet dirt halfway through the race; you’ll sand your toenails off.
2. Mesh-top trail running shoes – many folks will tell you to wear “throw-away” shoes. Don’t if you’re serious about not busting your ass on certain obstacles and you want to actually be able to run in the mud and on trails.
3. Shorts – nekkid don’t cut it. So, wear moisture-wicking shorts; the length is up to your level of comfort. If they’re not compression-style, be sure they at least have built-in panties or be sure to wear underwear; no one wants to look at your junk as you shimmy over an 8-foot wall.
4. Shirt – this is up to you. Some folks wear shirts some don’t. If it’s going to be full-on hot, wear a moisture-wicking, tight-fitting shirt. It will keep you cool, you’ll sunburn less and it won’t snag on shit you’re climbing under/over/on. Also, the existence (or not) of abs on your body may influence your decision on this.
5. Bra – women, get a good sports bra. Nowadays, you don’t have to worry about the horrid uni-boob. Sports bras today come in myriad colors, shapes and styles. Get one that supports your girls so you don’t get smacked in the face with a tit. You’ll thank me for this.
6. Gloves - optional. However, I suggest clipping the finger and thumb tips off if they’re not fingerless gloves. You may need to untie or re-tie a shoe during the race and if you wear full gloves — when you take them off — your fingernails will be wet and soft and will bend back to your knuckles — not fun.
7. Forearm protectors/sleeves – optional, but I’m wearing them now because the bruises and scrapes actually start to hurt on the ride home.
8. Compression calf sleeves – see #7

I’ve worn running shorts and triathlon shorts. I prefer the running shorts, but be forewarned: things can get up in them (see my post on Savage Race regarding the passenger I picked up crossing a creek). So now you know. Get out there and sign up for a race!

I have no words…

IT WORKS.

That is all.

For some reason, this time of year makes me feel very domestic; not in the sense that I wear an apron and clean things, but in the sense I get the urge to bake and create sweet things — things we normally don’t and won’t eat. For instance, I baked two pumpkin pies and one pumpkin sour cream layer cake — from scratch. Yes, I went and procured a couple of small pie pumpkins and made my own homemade pumpkin glop (yes, that’s a technical term; so consider yourself enlightened). These all turned out perfectly and we brought them with us to the feast.

While at the local Publix collecting what we’d need for the holiday, The Princess and I saw in the produce section (much to our joy and surprise!) fresh chestnuts! We squeed with glee and decided to purchase a package of about 15 or so chestnuts. Realizing on the way home that neither of us had ever roasted our own chestnuts in the past, we both agreed that I’d search online for a proper set of instructions so we could roast them ourselves. Well, that didn’t happen that day. In fact, it didn’t happen until the Sunday after Thanksgiving.

Chestnuts – The weapon of the future

While preparing the chestnuts (by placing them in a pan), I began to look up roasting instructions on my tablet. The Princess had already set the oven to 375F and had placed a roasting pan containing the chestnuts into it. As the page loaded on my tablet, the phone rang. It was The Princess’s brother. She handed over something she was working on (soup?) and asked me to take care of it. So, I quickly skimmed the website and saw what I felt were the pertinent bullet items for roasting chestnuts in the oven:

• Heat oven to 425
• Cook for 15 to 20 minutes

Since the oven was already at 375, I churned it up to 425 and set the timer to 15 minutes. They’d already been in there for around five minutes, so I figured we were good. Eventually, I finished up making the soup, The Princess got off the phone, and the oven timer went off. I pulled the pan out of the oven and we looked at the chestnuts, sitting there fully clothed in their shells and not looking any more roasted than before. I touched one and thought I’d left some skin from my finger tip on the damn thing. They were HOT.

Wondering how we’d open and consume them, I quickly looked at my tablet again, which was still sitting on the website with the roasting instructions. That’s when something caught my eye that I hadn’t seen before. It was a bolded section of the page that implied some sort of warning. It said to be sure to slice the shell of each chestnut in an X pattern, or you run the very real risk of them exploding. ::eyes wide::

Standing next to the counter on which the pan with the hot chestnuts was sitting, I no sooner opened my mouth to inform The Princess about the impending explosions of nuts, than –POW–! Instantly, the entire counter top, the stove top, the bottom side of the kitchen cabinet and one side of my body were covered with chestnut guts. The Chihuahuas, who had been sitting at my feet looking pitiful and begging for a morsel had instantly disappeared. Also, my right ear was ringing and felt as if it had been boxed by a pissed-off kangaroo. Hysterical chuckling could be heard over the din in my ear and I realized it was me. The Princess however, was not impressed and looked at me like I was insane. She promptly stomped out of the kitchen, leaving me to deal with the mess and two Chihuahuas who had miraculously recovered and were now were excitedly licking chestnut off my pant leg.

Using the hose attachment on our vacuum cleaner, the mess was sucked up. What’s amazing about the whole thing is that only one of the nuts had exploded and made that big a mess. The rest survived and were yummy. I ended up using our kitchen mallet to smash each one, which allowed us to pull them apart and get at the meat inside. How one is supposed to score the outside of a chestnut before roasting — I have no idea. The things are literally rock-hard and you risk losing a finger if you try to cut them with a knife.

My hearing has returned, but it will probably be next Thanksgiving before we roast any more chestnuts at home.

As a child, I was always running through fields, climbing up trees, over fences under logs, leaping, hopping, balancing, crawling, pulling myself up, lowering myself down, swimming, wading, slogging through mud, and then I’d have lunch. Seriously, though — what we used to do with our bodies during play as children is what you need to be able to do in order to successfully finish an obstacle course like the Savage Race, Spartan Race or Tough Mudder. Keep in mind, I’m 50 years old. Depending on your age now, your mileage may vary. Due to the lack of video games, computers, smart phones, tablets and the like while I was growing up, I had the opportunity to be outside and moving around, whereas folks much younger than me already had muffin-tops before the age of 8.

Back to what needs to be done to your body before attempting once of these races…

You’ll need upper body strength. Your arms, shoulders, chest, back and core (ab muscles) need to be broken down and built up. Yes, they say you lose muscle mass after the age of 30. Actually, you just stop making it. What you had is still there, hiding under all that adipose fat (fat just under the skin), which can and will burn off if you stick to working out. The trick to sticking to your workouts is making it fun, making it just enough of a challenge and making it a priority. I’m not saying to abandon all your responsibilities or your current workouts (especially if you plan on sticking to running regular road races — if you’re already a runner). What I’m saying is add these strength and agility workouts into your already planned workouts. Trust me, they will improve your running.

Most of the workout do not require any equipment. Except for pull-ups, you should be able to do the workouts anywhere in your home where you have enough room to swing your arms. For pull-ups, I purchased something similar to this upper body workout bar. You will also need a set of dumb bells 8 to 10 pounds each. OK, so here’s a “starter” workout plan:

Monday, Wednesday and Friday: Run 3 miles on a trail (dirt, grass; not paved). If you’re new to running, start out with one mile and walk/run it. Just keep moving. Warm up beforehand, cool down and stretch afterward. Over time, you’ll be able to do this distance in 35 minutes or less (flat trail with no roots or obstacles). Bring water with you and drink it!

Tuesday, Thursday: Do the following circuit workout; it takes about 20 to 30 minutes. Try to rest 30 to 45 seconds between each set and between each exercise. Drink water!

• 5 sets of 5 single leg pistol squats (each leg — go as low as you’re comfortable with; keep knees behind the ends of your toes)
• 5 sets of 5 dumb bell plank rows
• 20 push-ups (do from knee position if you aren’t able to do them in proper form yet)
• 3 to 5 pull-ups/chin-ups If they’re extremely difficult, use a band to assist. (do all of these on the workout bar)
• 5 hanging knee lifts (you can do this from the workout bar)

That completes week one. If you feel more ambitious, add another circuit workout to Saturday. As time progresses, you should be able to start adding more reps onto your exercises. If you start to get bored, change things up. Add in 3 sets of 10 burpees (with 30 to 45 seconds of rest between sets). If you’re starting out from square one, don’t get frustrated! Adjust the reps and sets according to your abilities. Practice will enable you to do them better and to do more of them.

Focus on form and execution, not speed. Keep your core engaged, work on proper posture and correct placement of feet and hands.

After about four weeks, you’ll start to see a difference in your body. Depending on your level of fitness at the time you began, you may see defined muscles in your upper arms, your chest, shoulders and yes — you may even see the beginnings of a six pack peaking through. Again, this all depends on where you were fitness-wise when you started this workout. It may take longer for some, especially if you have some weight to lose, but everyone will see some changes taking place.

Keep this up, and by the end of two months, you should be comfortable enough with your own strength and endurance to tackle and conquer a 5k obstacle race like the Warrior Dash. Keep it up! You’ll feel amazing.

If you end up giving this a try, please let me know and leave some comments on your progress!

Next post, I’ll go over what clothing, gear, footwear and such worked best for me.

Mitt Romney is a liar. He’s a very good one. He’s convincing, appears earnest and will look you straight in the eye as he does it. Still, lying is lying and I sure as hell don’t want someone like that running the country. It may be just fine and dandy for corporate takeovers and destroying businesses, just not for government. Examples of Romney lies:

1. Chrysler is moving Jeep production to China – They’re not. They are actually expanding operations here in the U.S. and will be selling product in China.
2. President Obama plans to “rob” Medicare of $716 Billion – He’s not; his plan would get the money from reducing payments to providers who are overcharging.
3. President Obama removed the “work requirement” from the welfare law – He didn’t; he simply gave state governors the power to create harder or broader work requirements. The last two paragraphs tell it in a nutshell.

These are just a few examples of the lies Willard Mitt Romney is willing to tell in order to be elected. Don’t take my word for it; take theirs:

“Mitt Romney will lie to you to become President and he will lie to you when he becomes President… Mitt Romney will do and say anything to become President. Anything.” – Newt Gingrich

“I don’t know how to respond to Mitt Romney because his position may change tomorrow.” – John McCain

“If a man’s dishonest to get a job, he’ll be dishonest on the job.” – Mike Huckabee

Let’s look at another thing that affects hundreds of thousands of Americans. Equal rights for LGBT people and women. A lot of Mitt Romney supporters I listened to have indicated that civil rights issues aren’t center-stage for them and that the economy and jobs are their focus. Aside from referring you to the previous section of this post, let me tell you something — relying on trickle down economics to solve any issues we’re having with regard to unemployment is delusional. The wealthy are not going to take the extra money they’re able to make by not paying an equal share in taxes and shower us with jobs. If they were going to do that, they’d have already done it. They’ve been raking it in since former President Bush was in office. Who, by the way, you have to thank for the economic mess we’re in. Ever wonder why G.W. Bush is completely absent from any campaign messages or rallies? Gee, probably the same reason the GOP chooses to blame President Obama for the recession — they’re hoping you’ll forget about Bush and how he almost destroyed this country.

Back to civil rights. DOMA directly impacts me and my family. It deprives us of the dignity of recognition, of Federal protections and tax benefits that heterosexual couples take for granted. One phrase I hear bandied about a lot is that we’re asking for “special rights”. Seriously? They’re rights/privileges that are already in existence and that are already enjoyed (and once again taken for granted) by heterosexual couples. It’s the folks against equal rights who are asking for – no demanding — special rights for themselves.

Women deserve to be treated equally under the law. They deserve the same pay as their male counterparts for doing the same jobs. They deserve bodily autonomy and the respect  that they are able to make their own healthcare decisions. If a woman chooses to end a pregnancy, whether that pregnancy began consensually, by incest or rape, it’s no one else’s choice to make but hers. It is her body.  It doesn’t matter what your religion or faith instructs you to do; you have no right to impose your beliefs on someone else. If your religion or faith instructs that you not have an abortion, then don’t have one. But you don’t have the right to legislate what someone else does with their own body based on your religious views. That’s not restricting your Freedom of Religion; you’re still free to practice it as you see fit with regard to yourself. It is ensuring that others have the same Freedom of Religion by not being bound by yours.

What else? The removal of environmental protections, destruction of social safety nets, corporations as people — how many other shenanigans planned and orchestrated by the GOP need to be pointed out before folks will wake up and stop voting against their own self-interests?

You’re worried about Socialism? Let’s stop it! Let’s completely do away with it. We don’t want no damn socialism in this country! Tell me about how that works for you when you no longer have fire or police services, county roads are not maintained, garbage isn’t picked up, social security no longer exists and you can’t get medicare when you retire. All of those are based on socialism. We take care of each other so that we can mutually exist in society. We each give a little so that all of us can benefit.

Empathy. The ability to put yourself into someone else’s shoes and understand what that person is going through. More than that, it’s actually caring about what that person is going through and understanding their pain/predicament/joy/fear/happiness. It’s when we distance ourselves and refuse to care about each other that society begins to decline.

Anyway, all this to say that I’m voting for Barack Obama for president because I care about my fellow Americans — all of them. Please be sure to vote — it’s the one right every single American still has regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation. At least it is for now…

It’s not like I have eleventy-gajillion folks coming by to check on posts and see what’s happening — I doubt I even have eleven folks doing that. However, certain topics tend to attract certain individuals, many of whom are… let’s say “passionate”… about their side of the political aisle. And while being able to enjoy having comments show up now and then would be really nice, I don’t want to wade through the vitriol that tends to accompany posts about politics.

That being said, here are the ground rules (if anyone cares) for commenting on any post on this blog (I may make this post the “official” commenting guidelines page):

Comments are moderated. Yes, you have a right to Free Speech. No, that right does not necessarily extend to a privately-owned blog. However, please do feel free to post what you feel you need to say in comments and while doing so, please also realize that what you post in comments may not ever be published here. Why you ask? Well, as with any Freedom, with Free Speech comes Responsibility. Yes, you are free to say anything you wish. However, just because you are free to do so, doesn’t mean you’re not free to suffer the consequences of what you’ve said. If that’s too confusing for you, here’s a rough example:

You can go into a movie theater and yell, “FIRE”. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. And if you do choose to do so, you will suffer the consequences of what you did — most likely by being arrested. See? You have a right to Free Speech, but  you also must consider the fact that you must face the consequences of what you say. It’s really very simple.

So, anything posted in comments which I view as:

1. A personal attack
2. Hate speech
3. Condescending bullshit (there are ways to make your point without belittling people)

These will be summarily deleted and will not see the light of day on this blog.

If you intend to post Talking Points, you must back them up with Actual Facts — include a link to your Actual Facts that do not come from some bloviating pundit’s website (Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh and Michael Moore do not qualify as “experts”). I will do everything in my power to do the same.

Understand that if I do not publish your comment(s), that does not mean that I practice censorship. This is my blog; I pay for hosting, I maintain it. If you want your stuff up on the web that badly, go start your own blog and post by your own rules.

This can and probably will change as things unfold. Don’t get hysterical if they do.

There. That’s it. Now we can carry on smartly.

Savage Race Logo

This was by far the best obstacle race I’ve ever done (out of three… but still) and the best race of any kind I’ve ever done. Seriously, this race kicked ass. To get them out of the way, here are my only complaints and/or suggestions for improvement:

1. Stop nickel-and-diming folks for everything – bag check should be free; not $5, for shit’s sake (and no, I didn’t use bag check).
2. The Colossus should not have had such a massive backup of people waiting to go up. If most of them were looky-loos, have them move the hell out of the way so those of us who want to get on with the race can actually get on with the race. It seriously fucked-up my time — like by almost 20 minutes.

Now that that’s done… on with the race! I was in the 11:20am wave and we left right on time. I made the dubious decision to leave my tank top with The Princess (my cheerleader) at our base camp, and run with just my sports bra and running shorts on. I consider this dubious, because even though my arms and legs are tan, the rest of me is fish-belly white. Like Whitey-white-whiterton white.

The weather was PERFECT. There was a nice, cool breeze out of the north, little to no humidity and the temperature was in the mid to high 70s (it hit 84F late in the afternoon).

They originally told us the course was 5 miles in length. When we were at the start waiting to take off, they mentioned that it was actually 6 miles in length. OK. There were at least 21 obstacles. A description (with photos) of the obstacles is here. I’ll note any marked changes to the obstacles as needed. Remember — when we weren’t doing an obstacle, we were run/jogging on trails, grass, mud, dirt and gravel.

Obstacle 1: Tire Pendulum. This was just as described; hanging tires you run through, hoping the big guy in front of you doesn’t just slam them into your face.

Obstacle 2: Shriveled Richard: Just as described; a storage tank filled with ice-cold water. Ours only had a few scattered ice cubes left in it when we got there, but it was still friggin’ cold and literally hurt. We had to jump in, submerge completely to go under a baffle, swim to the other end and climb out the one ladder there. If more than one of us jumped in at a time, we had to wait for whoever got to the ladder first. I got to the ladder first — no way I was spending any more time in that than I had to. I climbed out and down and proceeded to attempt to run and my left calf immediately cramped on me. I hop-jogged until it warmed up.

Obstacle 3: Thor’s Grundle. This is a series of two large, deep ditches, each which is cross sectioned with a baffle similar to the one that was over the ice bath. We had to jump/crawl/slide down into the first ditch, lay down and crawl (or squat and crawl if you’re flexible and small like me), and then climb back up and out and then down and into the second ditch — exit it just like the first one. The difference with this and with how it was presented to us is that these ditches were supposed to be full of water. These were not.

Many of the obstacles were climbing up mountains of dirt and then sliding down the other side — several mountains of dirt in a row. You could easily get stuck, lose your footing and go crashing down every which way. Loved these!

Obstacle 7: 96″ Stiffie. This is an 8-foot wooden wall. They had three lined up along side each other. The one on the far-left was slightly shorter and had two “cheater” bars to grab to assist with climbing. The boys on the course kept calling it the “girl’s” wall, but I saw several of the boys choose that wall for themselves. The one of the far-right was the full 96″ and had no “cheater” bars. I only saw extremely tall and lean men choose that one. The middle wall was 96″ and had only one “cheater” bar (a 2×4) across it that gave you a slight foot-hold, but not much. I chose that one for myself. I climbed up along the right side of the wall, got a foot-hold hopped and caught the top of the wall — hoisted myself up and climbed over. I hung down and pushed off and landed on the ground. Some guy wearing a mouse hat congratulated me.

We crawled under a field of barbed wire, swam across an extremely deep canal — they had rubber ropes across it to use; I flipped over on my back, did hand-over-hand and kicked with my feet and shot across. I also got a passenger in my shorts during that swim.

This went along for the ride

It’s a dragonfly nymph. Of course, when I discovered it caught in the elastic of my running shorts after the race (the underwear attached inside), I completely freaked out… but had enough sense to keep the thing so I could find out what it was. But still — blech.

In the middle of the mud hills (I call them mountains), there were a series of 5-foot walls with barbed wire crawls between them. So we alternately jumped up, hoisted ourselves over the walls, then dropped and crawled under the barbed wire, we did this four times, ran a bit more and then HEY — there they were again. Jump up, hoist, drop, crawl, rinse, repeat. Then we ran a bit more and had more mud hills. This was where we could have used some more aid stations; I was starting to get parched by now, and we’d already passed two aid stations in the first couple miles. It was weird how this whole long, extremely rigorous section had no aid stations.

One thing about clearing the 5-foot walls (or any wall for that matter), a common mistake for a lot of folks is the idea that they have to RUN at the wall. There’s an art to approaching a wall you plan to go UP; running at it isn’t always the best way to accomplish that. I watched a young woman repeatedly run at a wall, jump and slam right into the damn thing. She did it three times while we waited in a line behind her dumb ass. The last time, she slammed into it, she fell back, and claimed that she’d lost her nipple. I have no doubt she did. The trick to approaching a wall is to slow down, plant your feet and direct your momentum UP. You need to be close to the wall, get your arm up, use your other hand to pull up and then swing a leg up. You can then either flip over and climb down, or just jump off onto the other side. Keep in mind, you’re going to have some colorful bruises on the underside of your forearms and on the inside of the thigh of your swinging-up leg.

These look even more colorful now

After the last grouping of mud hills, there was a section with more walls, but there weren’t solid. These were called “barn doors” and were super easy to navigate, compared to the regular walls. We then went up and over a huge pyramid of hay bales (just one!!) and then on to the first of the wait-in-line obstacles of the day. It was odd; we go through over half the course so smoothly but it started to really bunch up on the back half as we caught up with other waves that had started well before us.

So, the “Nut Smasher”. This was essentially a series of thin balancing beams laying across a large pool of cold water. The beams were each made of two 12×2 boards and we had to walk on the short side (which basically equaled an area 3″ in width). There were six of these and yet we still had lines of folks waiting to get on each of them (you only needed to cross one). The thing with these was due to the length of them, by the time you got to the center, the damn thing was wobbling crazy. When I finally got up there, I couldn’t believe how stupidly difficult it was to try and balance on 3″ of wood as it wobbled side-to-side. Add in a jerk who used my beam to hoist himself out of the soup below after he fell, and you’ll see why I fell off into the water myself. At least it was cool water!

More running and we finally get to some tree cover. Inside, another long line of folks waiting to go over the cargo net. Here’s the thing: when constructing these, most races use two cargo nets. One goes up at a slight angle, connects at the top to the second, which then goes down at a slight angle the other way. Like an inverted V. This one, however, had two nets next to each other side-by-side. So once you climbed up, you had to climb down the same cargo net, except you’re on the other side of it. What’s so bad about that you ask? Well, if someone decided to go up following you, you both have to navigate each others hands, feet, faces and even (gasp) groins. So people were being polite and waiting for the folks in front to finish. Hence the long-ass wait.

Next obstacle was the Colon Blow 5000. This was supposed to be the “scariest obstacle” of the course. By the race promoter’s description and presentation, this consisted of a barbed wire crawl to a dark tube/tunnel you had to crawl up into (it WAS pitch-black inside). It took a lot of trust for me to go in that damn tunnel. Once at the top, you could see down into the tube/tunnel that would take you down and out. Once out, you had another barbed wire crawl, so you couldn’t just jump up and take off. This obstacle was supposed to have water at the point where you come out; in fact, the water was supposed to be at head-level, which would make it even more terrifying to get out. But, no water. So it was interesting, a bit scary at first and a good obstacle, but definitely NOT the scariest by any stretch.

Davy Jones’ Locker was the scariest obstacle for me. This thing had to be at least 20 feet high (think high dive). It was a huge platform onto which we climbed. Once up there, we had to move to the edge of the platform, where we hovered over the top of a deep man-made pool (dark-ass water – yikes). We then had to take a leap of faith and jump. While waiting for my chance to climb up the ladder to the platform, I watched several people turn around and climb right the hell back down. Gulp. One other decision I had made prior to the race was to not wear a bondiband headband. I’d heard of other folks losing theirs during obstacle races and this particular obstacle seemed like the perfect candidate for losing my headband. Once up on the platform, I stood next to another young woman who was wearing a headband. I took my racing glasses off (they’re prescription, so I have to wear them anyway) held them in my hand and together, the woman and I jumped.

It’s so weird jumping into space from that height; it’s hard to describe how it feels. At first, you love it; it feels like you could fly. Suddenly, gravity takes hold and you feel you’re dropping, almost as if something is pulling you. The drop speeds up so quickly, it’s breath-taking. I fucking screamed the entire way until I hit the water. It was horrifying and exhilarating all at the same time! We both shot up out of the water at the same time — we had both hit the bottom as well! I checked and still had my glasses, but she had lost her headband. There must have been a graveyard of objects at the bottom of that pool.

Next was the Evil Bars. Why they put this after the water plunge, I have no idea. The bars were slippery from all the water from everyone’s hands. Now admittedly, I saw several women and men complete this, but unfortunately, I slipped and fell the third bar in. This thing was a monster and I’ll definitely have to train better for it next time.

Lumberjack Lane had us picking logs, hoisting them onto our shoulders and then trudging through a portion of a swamp. Once back out, we dumped our logs and ran on to the next obstacle.

Next, we had to navigate the slippery incline wall. The wall was at what appeared to be a 45 degree angle and had ropes hanging about halfway down with a knot on the end of each. The walls were wet, and we had to run fast as possible toward the wall, continuing to run up as far as possible, grab a rope and walk ourselves up to the top. I had a short wait here while several women tried and failed to either 1)get the rope or 2)figure out what to do after getting the rope. They let me through, telling each other to, “watch this woman — she’ll show us how to do it” — no pressure. But, I ran up, got the rope and walked myself up to the top and then climbed down the ladder on the other side. Granted, being on a 45 degree angle makes this much easier than you’d think.

Now was the what should have been one of the best parts of the race, but unfortunately, due to size or planning, it ended up being a horrid bottleneck. This obstacle is the third one from the end; I could see the friggin’ finish line — but there were almost hundreds of people (many from waves that had left much earlier than ours) standing in line and NOT moving! This obstacle was the huge Colossus — a water slide that starts at almost 90 degrees of drop, a good 50 feet in the air. Awesome, right? But to get to the slide itself, you had to navigate the grand daddy of all slippery incline walls on the back side of the slide. This incline wall had only four ropes (with a knot on the end of each rope) and the incline on this wall was insane. Only four people at a time could go and it appeared that a lot of folks were just standing there, either watching, or afraid to go. It took me almost 20 minutes to navigate myself to the front (once I realized that barely anyone was even attempting the obstacle) and when I got to the front, I could see that once folks got to the top of the platform after successfully getting up the wall (using the rope — or not), there was a ladder to climb up even higher that took you to the platform for the top of the water slide. But down at that first platform, it was like a little party and folks were cheering and waving and taking their time moving on. There were several race volunteers there as well, helping folks who needed assistance at that last point to get up on the platform from the rope.

Finally, it was my turn. Or actually, I just yelled out that I was going.   I was on the left side and ran as fast as I could across the grass, onto and up that damn wall. I grabbed the rope with my right  hand, and just as I thought I might fall back, my feet caught under me, my right arm tightened up and I had it!! I climbed (you couldn’t walk it at this horrid angle) and got to the top, but couldn’t figure out how to transfer from the rope to the platform. I was struggling with it and two volunteers grabbed the rope and pulled. I was able to use my feet a bit to climb the last bit and hopped my butt onto the platform. I was up!! I thanked both volunteers, didn’t look back and climbed up the ladder to the top of Colossus. Holy shit. I was the only one up there (why? there were so many folks down there). I sat on the edge, felt the water stream on my legs (which were dangling straight down) and jumped off. At first, I wasn’t touching anything; I was in mid air. Then the slide started to slope and my butt was on it and I was SAILING! FOOM — I shot down that slide, went air-born at the bottom and slammed into the water in the pool below – sideways!! It was AWESOME! I climbed out and started for the final obstacles and  the finish.

All obstacle/mud races have a fire jump near the finish. But this one had an added bit of torture before and after the fire jump. This obstacle was aptly named “Taze and Blaze”. Right after climbing out of the Colossus’ pool (completely soaking wet), I had to go under an obstacle that had hanging tentacles from it. The idea was to go under and have the least amount of these things touch you. There was a sign next to the obstacle and it said something like, “live voltage — those with pacemakers must go around”. I opted to roll under these. I made it under the first one without getting zapped.  Got up, and there was the fire jump! I jumped over, and there was another row of live wires to go under. This time, as I rolled under, I got zapped on the hip, which made my entire body go stiff and jump. I involuntarily yelled, “FUCK” and got the hell out of there. Geez that hurt. But I was ok; it’s just voltage, not wattage.

The last obstacle was a mud crawl under orange-painted barbed wire. I zoomed through it, using my forearms and knees military-style to get out quickly. It was REAL mud — you almost never see that in Florida, so I was beside myself with the mooshy-ness of it.

Finally, the Finish Line. They handed us a medal, had us give our timing chips to them, then gave us our shirts (yes, with us covered in mud). We were given a beer (YAY!!) and we were finally then out of the chute. It was so much fun and I had a huge grin on my face as I approached The Princess.

Are You Savage Enough?

I had been gone for 2 hours and 9 minutes; I had originally estimated 90 minutes to finish — and that would have been pretty much true, but for the ridiculous long waiting times at several of the obstacles in the second half. But, I wasn’t in the competitive wave, so hopefully it went better for them when they went.

I placed 11 of out 29 in my age group (see the first sentence of this post for reference), and 1232nd out of 2711 overall. Not too shabby! I’m so glad I trained well for this; it really did make a huge difference. When I finished, I wasn’t completely wiped out and actually felt really good. In another post, I explain how I trained and what I wore and how everything worked out. So if you’re a “mature” woman looking to get into shape and try one of these races out, please come back and I’ll go into further detail on gear and training.