My entire body is stiff and achy, my knees are raw, hurt to touch and look like hamburger, and I just completed the most pathetic workout of my entire life because I’m a creature of habit that would rather go have the most pathetic workout of my entire life than not go to the gym at all.
All of these things, again. Because this past weekend was the Spartan Sprint that I’ve now done three years in a row.
During this year’s race, I found myself walking an inordinate amount of the course, which made me feel a little panicked at the state of my physical preparation. It was no secret that there were several new obstacles integrated into the course this year, none more arduous and physically taxing as the five-gallon bucket that runners had to fill entirely with gravel, and walk about the distance of a quarter of a mile up and down a hill, but the point remains, walking to me is supposed to be for the weak competitors, and running was supposed my greatest strength, my biggest asset, and my trump card to pass and overtake lesser competitors.
Several times throughout the race, typically while I was walking, exhaustion creeping in, while mentally trying to will it away, I asked myself, why the hell am I putting myself through this; again? I mean, I thought it was a valid question, seeing as how this was the third straight year that I was running through the mud and woods just outside of Covington, Georgia.
I’d already proven that I could handle a Spartan Sprint twice over now, and there was no question that I could handle it a third time. I like to believe that every year’s Spartan is a good opportunity to exploit and discover weaknesses in our individual physical development and preparation, and that every following year is the chance to put them to the test. Seeing as how the wall up-and-overs were my problems in years prior, I integrated lots of lifts and exercises to combat this, and I had, with much internal glee, dominated all walls in front of me in the race.
Regardless, it wasn’t so much as the fact that I was getting any softer or getting any weaker, as much as it was the sentiment that this year’s Spartan Sprint might actually have been more difficult. There were numerous new obstacles introduced into the run this year that weren’t in prior years, including one that actually made runners have to utilize their brain, by memorizing a verbal code that would have to be recited later on in the course (which I remembered by using a mnemonic device, DELTA-730-Jeff Francoeur’s last good year AKA 2007). Needless to say, I found myself panting and gassed way more often than I’d really liked to admit.
However, difficulty increase aside, it didn’t make me feel any better when I later discovered my time on the course upon completion, which turned out to be 1:36:10. This would be about 19 minutes slower than my time from a year prior, and almost 20 minutes slower from two years ago. This was a little deflating to me, considering how easily I traversed the walls that stumbled me up in years prior.
But I also needed to consider the difficulty increase, because I’m not saying I’m a Nigerian endurance runner by any stretch of the imagination, but I couldn’t possibly have been the only person to have been addled by the increase of obstacles, several of which were simply strength-based.
That being said, this is where the game of percentages come into play, because time aside, the most important information runners want to learn, is how they measure up to their fellow runners.
- In 2013, I finished with a time of 1:16:15, which placed me in the top 33% of male runners, and top 26% among all 5,000+ runners.
- In 2014, I finished with a time of 1:17:42, which placed me in the top 20% of male runners, and top 16% among all 4,300+ runners.
- Despite the nearly 20 minute difference from the two prior years, at 1:36:10, I’m at the 14% of male runners, and I had to check multiple times to confirm that I was within the top 10% among all 4,500+ runners.
To me, that pretty much confirms that the course was undoubtedly more difficult than it had been in previous years, seeing as how I can go that much slower, and dramatically increase my position among finishers.
And seeing tangible proof like that, pretty much is the reason why I think it’s worth it to kick my own ass like this every now and then. It feels incredible to get some clear evidence to justify the fruits of physical labor.
Oh yeah, and the fucking javelin toss. It’s been my goal to hit it, and after this past weekend, I’m a cool 0/3 at it. This, is probably going to be precisely why I put myself through this hell next year, and every year afterward, until I get this god forsaken broomstick to stick into a god forsaken bale of hay.
