BEYONDexistence

BACKGROUND

10 years ago I couldn’t run a mile; I couldn’t do one pushup. Yesterday I ran the Spartan Beast at Killington solo and missed only 2 obstacles (one being that damn spear throw).

I was a chubby kid, not athletic, and shy. When you mix those things in a school setting, kids laugh, confidence goes down, gym class becomes torture. So year after year, I’d count down the minutes.
I began horseback riding (my first sport) when I was 10, and though I fell in love with it, I was by no measure a natural. And when I learned how to jump… now there was a struggle. I nearly quit. I couldn’t see my distances and I’d get left behind on take-off, landing on the neck come the landing. It was embarrassing and it was scaring me, so I decided I’d try western instead. That didn’t go any better.

By my junior year in College, I was captain of the equestrian team, minoring in Sports Science(/Phys.ed.). I used to watch that Mtv show “Made,” but no, thats not how it happened.

I realized that I didn’t want to quit riding; I wanted to learn how to jump, so I did. I jumped little jumps, and bigger jumps, I jumped with horses that were scared of jumps, and with horses that had no saddles. I rode and worked at the barn 6-7 days a week. My physical strength grew with my confidence. And then I went to college. Intercollegiate showing is the type of competition most college equestrian teams participate in. Horse draw is first thing in the morning: your horse is basically picked out of a hat.  When your class is next, hop on this horse you drew, maybe you’ve seen him go once today but you’ve never sat on him (heck
you’ve never seen this barn before)… and jump your course.

Nearing the end of high school, I was able to worry a little less about what people thought, and I had gotten into better shape from riding, working, and biking,
but those 42 minutes were still the worst. I made a new best friend who never judged me, and on a visit home during my freshman year at Hofstra, her friend brought us to our first Zumba class at MHS. Something I would have been petrified of doing alone, especially in our HS gym class, instantly became something we could mess up at together, and, though it took us months to get out of the back row, it was something I realized was simply fun. No one was judging me because they were all having fun; besides, what difference does it make if the girl can’t dance? She’s there anyway.

When JABS opened as a studio gym, we were the first to buy memberships and we went to every class that day. When I came home on weekends I slept over my friends house so we could go to the gym together on Saturday mornings. While it became our routine, it also became a time to laugh as a big family.

I dedicated time 6 days a week to exercising. The Rec. Center at Hofstra became my ‘spot.’ As I fell more and more in love with they way working out felt, my workouts increased. On days off from school, I could spend 6 hours at JABS. When I realized that I was comfortable and excited to challenge myself in fitness settings, I declared a minor in Sports Science so I could learn stuff. It was while I was earning my first elective credits that I first fell in love with the weight room and yoga studio. Everywhere I went, I expanded my own fitness world.

In May of 2014, I joined team JABS in running the Tuxedo Spartan Sprint. In September, a few of us ran our first Super, followed by our first Beast at the Killington World Championship race earning ourselves a trifecta for the year.

We started 2015 crawling on the snow at the Mountain Creek Beast, and by the time I crossed the finish at the Tuxedo Sprint (having signed up for our favorite Mountain Creek Super already) I decided I would double trifecta. I volunteered a full day shift at Boston, before racing my Sprint #2 and even agreed to one of those competitions on the rig in the festival afterwards. A few days later I registered for the Sunday of Mountain Creek: back to back Supers two weeks later. I kept working hard, and it paid off. The race was just under 9 miles: 27 obstacles. I missed the same 3 both days, but I don’t take help anymore. I never got sore after that race.

I’ve said how I’ve climbed, how I’ve grown, how I’ve been positive to make positive changes. But it’s not always like that. It’s not all good and its never easy. I didn’t come casually into this lifestyle. I dedicated time, lots of time. It hurt, lots of the time. I was unsatisfied lots of the time. I struggled with body image, I always struggled with eating, I struggled with hundreds of minor injuries, I struggled with failure, with going backwards, with what felt like square one. Over and over again. But little by little, I learn how to conquer those struggles too.

THE RACE

I didn’t expect to race alone. I had always relied a little bit on friends’ support through the races, but as the race drew closer I realized no one else had signed up. So I got up at 4am Sunday morning, packed my Camelbak, and was on my way (after the traditional DD stop). I turned up my favorite tunes, no one to share my pre-race jitters with as I drove into the sunrise. I watched the elite heat run up the hill, and as the 8:15 jumped the start line wall, I realized how few people were actually around me (in comparison to other race days). I ran and hiked up and down some 15 miles of that mountain full of strangers, never once feeling like I was amongst strangers. Somewhere around 4 miles, a 4 foot wall and a 6 foot wall separated Sprint runners from Beast runners respectively. When I landed on the other side of the 6ft wall there was no one in front of me, and no one behind me. I smiled to myself as I hiked through the woods, gnawing on bits of beef jerky. For the next 11 miles there were plenty of times I spent alone, but I began crossing paths with people. The same people: over and over. The thing about racing an uncrowded race is anyone who shares a pace with you will undoubtably recognize you just as easily as you will recognize them. And if you realize you might spend some of the next several hours together, doing the exact same thing, you may just want to say ‘hello.’ I smiled, laughed, lent a hand, shook hands, learned names, high fives, fist bumps, group burpees and finish line pictures… Though I never felt that I was amongst strangers, by the end of the day I really wasn’t. It’s an aspect of Spartan that might not be in the spotlight, but its one of my very favorites. What better way to meet someone than by watching and helping each other through such triumph.

In comparison to the 2014 World Championship race at Killington, 2015 did not compare. The climbs were similar, but, rumor has it good equipment was already in Cali for SoCal and Tahoe, so obstacles were somewhat improvised. Running with a group last year, we spent 11 hours on the course, jumping the fire in the dark. I finished under 8 this time, having pushed myself to a safe pace.

Though one I looked forward to, I fell off the Tarzan swing, and missed the spear throw by less than I’ve ever missed by. The more races I run, the more technique I learn for different obstacles. Some I’ve conquered since my start are the traverse wall, the rope climb, and the rings, bar, ropes rig. The experience of pushing myself to full potential (under slightly adrenaline fueled circumstances 😉 ) is one I can’t get enough of, and the combination of doing it for myself, and sharing it with others is more than satisfying.

With the finish line at Killington, I earned my double trifecta for 2015. Though it will be a little while before my next race, I’ll thrive on the joy of great races, and excitement for future races. I’ll work hard wherever I go, and remind myself to stay grateful for the capability I’ve learned.

I can’t say its for everyone, but with some hard work and patience, you can go wherever you want.