Your battles inspired me - not the obvious material battles but those that were fought and won behind your forehead. ~ James Joyce

 Dear Blogland,

This is my Dad.
This is MY Dad, standing at the starting line of his very first Spartan Race, at 62 years young.
I couldn't be more proud.

Many of you are familiar with the crazy adventure I've been on the last few years, transforming my life, losing weight and trudging on the quest for Increased Awesomeness. In the process, I found a passion for Obstacle Racing and a real support family in Spartan Racers. Starting in May of 2012, I crossed my first Spartan Race finish line and "knew" as they say, that my life would never be the same. Finish line after finish line followed, and I had trouble expressing to my family - who was not athletic or competitive at all - WHY I would willingly do these things. Yet, they kept seeing the physical changes, as well as the mental changes, as I became healthier and happier. Finally, my Dad wanted to know what it was all about, and came to see my finish my greatest challenge yet - the 2012 Vermont Spartan Beast. He stood at the finish line into the darkness, waiting for me to cross - which I did, muddy, bloody, exhausted and most of all, accomplished (here's the whole story) .  After which, in a comment on my blog, he said: "If there is a prouder father anywhere in the world right now I'd like to meet him and tell him about MY daughter! And who knows... maybe these creaky old bones, now inspired, will "get off the couch" and do something too. You've set the bar high - I wonder if I can 'Spartan Up'?"

Dad shows a muddy wall what's up.

And so it began, Blogland. For the last eight months, I watched my Dad take a turn and change HIS life. A computer geek all his life, "light hiking" would be the extent of my Dad's athletic experience. He's never been in any sort of race that I know of, not a fan of competition, and never would've considered spending money on a gym membership. Weight came and went in spurts (due to an irrational love of Little Debbie and Coca-Cola).  After seeing my VT Beast Finish (which was symbolic of a lot of mental finish lines for me), that all changed.

One day, he wrote me and told me of his plans to attend a local boot camp to learn how to workout (it's a funny concept for most of my readers... but it is something you need to learn!). Twice a week he'd email me and regale me with his Adventures At Bootcamp from the previous night - how the chest fly machine nearly wrenched his arms out of their sockets, how he was improving on the treadmill, how he was actually enjoying the assisted pull up machine. My personal favorite, however, was the day he learned how to Burpee. They weren't comfortable or easy (when are they ever?), on injured 62 year old shoulders and knees that have seen a few bumps along the way, but he learned how to push through and modify - because nothing is more iconic of the Spartan Race, than the Burpees (of Death!!). He wanted to be "ready."

Dad takes on Canada's crazy Upper Body Killer!

Being an excellent student, my Dad started studying the races. What else would he need to prepare for? What clothing should he have? Where to get such footwear? I knew he was serious, when he informed me that he had mounted a regulation size rope-climb rope in the garage to practice with (which, to this day, remains the victor in every attempt my Dad and I have made to climb it. ONE day, Rope, the Varney's will get to the top!).

Suddenly, May was upon us. I'm sure my Dad had "The Final Countdown" playing in the back of his head. First-timer nerves (and questions) bubbled up as The Day drew closer.

Dad (afraid of heights) owns the Cargo Net!

Then, disaster struck, just a week and a half prior to the race. I was diagnosed with Mononucleosis (at 30!! ARGH.), and prescribed NO activity and decidedly no obstacle races for the foreseeable future. As I kissed my racing season goodbye, I was suddenly heartbroken - I was supposed to take my Dad through his first Spartan Race. Dad and I were supposed to cross that finish line TOGETHER.  Now what?

Ultimately, my Dad did the only thing a true Spartan would do - he decided that, even if he had to go it alone, he had trained, felt as ready as he was going to be, and he would find that finish line, whatever it took.

It seemed there was a Spartan Spirit in my desk-jockey Dad, after all.

Race Morning dawned over the Montreal Sprint, a brisk 45 degree high, cloudy, with periods of rain. This is where I should mention, there is nothing my Dad hates more than being cold. I was anxious FOR him, as I really wanted him to have the full awesome Spartan experience, so he could understand my passion, not just be cold and miserable the whole time.

... and does his penalty burpees!

Apparently, my fears for my Dad were completely unfounded. At 62 years old, without any "buddy" on course with him, my Dad took down one obstacle after another.


The heights didn't get him.

The temperature didn't get him.

The new challenges didn't get him.

The lack of experience didn't get him.

I am also very happy to say that three sets of 30 penalty burpees ALSO didn't get him. He followed my advice to take them slow and steady, and did every single one.

I can't attest to what may have happened out on that course, as only my Dad can say (Perhaps a Guest Blog coming on?), but I can say that my Dad, too, "Knew at the Finish Line."

Upon crossing the US border, where the cell phone would work again, I immediately received a call. I was worried he'd be hurt (we're all protective of our parents, right?), or that he'd be miserable, or that he would've not finished.... But instead, he told me that a) He was HANGRY (racers, you'll understand), and finally understood my need for immediate food consumption after races and b) He had returned from his international soiree VICTORIOUS.

Varney Determination.

The picture to the right, although not glamorous, is my second favorite picture of my Dad from that day. It's cloudy, it's super muddy, it just looks cold, and he's covered in mud. His face is showing that point that every Spartan hits at some point, EVERY race; it's the moment that you're tired, uncomfortable and wondering what you were thinking when you signed up for this. It is also the moment you Spartan Up, start really earning your eventual medal, and separate yourself from the masses that are still sitting on their couch, because YOU - spartan racer - keep putting one foot in front of the other. In this picture, my Dad doesn't necessarily look like he's having a good time. We all know what those muddy, wet clothes feel like. It doesn't look like the end is in sight. On his face, though, is Determination. What that says to me is: I. Will. Finish.

Welcome to Spartan Race, Dad.


However, I must conclude with the photo of the day, capturing the moment perfectly (yes, Varney's have all the luck, getting awesome fire jump pictures at their inaugural Spartan Races):

Forged from the flames, my Dad emerges SPARTAN.

Still Smilin' at the end!

For all of you that doubt yourselves, are afraid, unsure, feeling out of shape or non-athletic, or too old... My Dad disagrees. 62 years young, he got off the couch (or, more fittingly, out of the office chair), changed some habits, got moving more, ate a little less and took one step after another towards getting healthy. Why? Because he decided he could.

Decide you can. Regardless of your age, weight, fitness or perceived limitations. You'd be amazed at what you will find you are able to do.


As the cuts and scrapes heal from this crusade (Dad. Don't forget the Neosporin), my Dad and I are looking forward to tackling a race together, when the doctor says I'm good to go. I never thought I'd say this, but I am thrilled at the prospect of carrying sandbags side-by-side with my Dad, or (maybe?!?!) holding the rope, as my Dad climbs to the top and hits the bell. Mostly, I look forward to crossing a finish line - A Spartan Family, getting healthy, training and being triumphant, together.

Oh, and Dad... AROO! AROO! AROO! ... I'm so proud of you. I can't wait for the world (BlogLand is a big place!) to know about MY DAD.

Editors Note: A HUGE Thank you to veteran Spartan, Dave Huckle for the great photos!

"You just can't beat the person who never gives up." - Babe Ruth

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 608:

Here's our Words of Wisdom for today, BlogLand.

I stumbled across these words this morning, on my in-bed, waking-up, FaceBook skim. Some people read the paper with their coffee, I roll over, hit the alarm and cruise through FB. I'm lucky to have an inordinate amount of active friends, who are constantly posting about their adventures, workouts, trials and hurdles... which to me, helps keep me on track. Better than reading posts about cupcakes and TV shows, you know?

This one resonated with me, a lot today. It's no secret I've been struggling. I've been pretty up front with the fact that I haven't been training like I want to, and I've gained some of the weight back. BUT, thanks to some recent revelations (... last summers jeans are not comfortable, at the moment...) , a huge mental kick in the ass, and a promise to my CG that we're in it together (he's got to rehab from a back injury!!), I'm back at it. However, when I look at where I "should" be, or where I want to get to, it gets a little disheartening and overwhelming.

SO... the plan is "EFFORT...Every Single Day."

While I was mulling this over this morning, I also found that it would be another Work From Home day, thanks to the late spring Snowpocalypse here in VT. So, what could I do *TODAY* to put in the effort?

I had been meaning to get some activity in yesterday... but work has been pretty demanding. I recognized the excuse.

Thus, I sat down with my cup of coffee and a piece of blank paper. On it, I wrote the things I could do today, to put in the effort:
1) Eat carb-free, tasty, protein and veggie meals. Appropriately sized.
2) Get up and stretch for a few minutes, every hour.
3) Go for a mid-day run with my running buddy (who was enjoying a snow day, as a teacher!).
4) Have a concerted stretch session, post run.

All very doable and attainable today. Regardless of the missteps I've made in the last couple of months, the key was that these were very tangible, things that I could get done TODAY. To put in the effort TODAY towards progress tomorrow.

I am happy to say, at 8:42pm, that I have done all those things. And I have continued to hydrate all day. It's been a good day. Tomorrow, I hope to string on another good day.

I have to make mention of today's run, though. Setting out with my Running Buddy Extraordinaire, Stacey, we braved the snow accumulation. It was a heavy, wet snow, that resulted in about 3-4 messy, slidey inches on the sidewalk, and big, cold, wet puddles. Nonetheless, we are Spartans!

It was ugly, BlogLand, for me. 3.2 miles. The snow made it like we were running in beach sand. On top of the fact I haven't been running as much, this detail made this run particularly grueling. While the first couple of miles I handled okay, as mile 2 sailed by, my calves started tightening up, I was tired, and there had to be walk breaks. While I hate to say that I had to walk during "just" a 5K.... I was at least out DOING a 5K, even if there were 20 second walk breaks here and there (more than I wanted, but...).

Thankfully, I had a buddy! Stacey kept pushing forward, dragging me along in her enthusiastic wake, every time I'd groan and trot down to a walk for a few seconds. Positive encouragement just kept coming from her. It's absolutely invaluable, BlogLand, to have a training buddy, like this. Neither of you are perfect, but both of you can help push the other along when the hill gets a little steep.

Arriving at home, my calves were screaming, I was soaking wet from all the snow, but I felt good. I'd done what I'd set out to do, even if it wasn't particularly graceful. We set about a good 20-25 minute stretch session (fueled by recovery protein smoothies!), and commiserated about the bumps in the road we've been experiencing.

I will say that my hip flexor is angry. Tight, stiff and angry. But, after much thought and discussion with the GT, the consensus is that it's from WAY too much sitting, driving and sitting some more. Makes total sense. The body is not made to be so sedentary. More Tiger Balm, more stretches... more ... yoga. *sigh*

On that note, I leave you with this BlogLand. Not all days will be perfect. In fact, most of them won't be. You'll struggle, things hurt, the workout doesn't go as planned... but ask yourself, are you putting in the effort? That's what's important. What can you do TODAY that will help you get to where you want to be tomorrow?

"There are only two options regarding commitment: you're either in or you're out. There's no such thing as life in between."

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 431:

On Thursday, July 21st, 2011, I did the hardest thing I've ever done in my life: I decided to change it. Completely, utterly, and dramatically. I got off the couch.

On Saturday, September 22nd, 2012, as darkness shrouded Killington Mountain, a cold early-autumn breeze cutting through my ever-damp and muddy clothes, I did the second most difficult thing I've ever done in my life: I crossed the finish line of the Spartan Beast.

The Beast was the race that started it all for me, as I stood filling up cups at the water station, on a whim, as volunteer. Now, it would serve as the shining capstone of accomplishment, in a year of physical and mental transformation.

In an awesome turn of events, I had been adopted by the MA/New England Spahtens and ended up running the race with the very first Spartan Chick I ever met in person, Jessica. Jess and I buddied up as the mountain gradually separated racers into their "comfortable" paces (Are you ever really "comfortable" when trekking a mountain like this?).

The next 8-9 hours were a blur, BlogLand. I can't describe to you the obstacles, the sights, the sounds... a week later and my brain can't even process the events of the day. In fact, I have written this post four times, this week, scrapping each attempt with disdain,  not feeling like I've done justice to the epic scope of the event.

With a little editorial help, a thought was given to me: I can't write it, because I'm afraid the result is not good enough. Fear. Fear was preventing me from writing about The Beast. With further reflection on this sudden profound thought, it occurred to me that that is what Spartan Race means when they tell you that You'll Know at the Finish Line. They can't tell you what you will have learned about your self, but they can tell you that you will cross that line a new person.

Why?

Because you spent the entire race - be it sprint, super, beast or ultra - fighting your demons, eluding your insecurities and looking your Fear right in the face.

As I stood at the base of Killington Mountain, goose-bumps rising in early fall breeze (or was that nerves and terror?), standing shoulder to shoulder with the 300 Spartans that I would begin my journey with, I worried. Had I packed enough fuel? Was my recently-injured ankle going to hold up? Had I trained enough? Skipped too many runs? How stupid did I look in my spandex, next to all these Beast-worthy Spartans?

Like the starting line of every Spartan Race, we were facing the mountain, knowing our first task would be to run up it. The purpose, I'm convinced, is so that as your adrenaline starts to surge through your body, you're left to ponder - with concern - that which lies ahead. At the very least, you start acknowledging the difficulty of what you are about to do. I stood staring up at Killington Mountain in quiet panic. THIS was a race for fit people. This was an event for real athletes. I knew, as much as anyone can know from scouring the rumors and FaceBook posts, how hard this was going to be - all part of the plan, Spartan Race?

And yet. I was standing there. Obstacle One, Get Off Couch, Get to Starting Line: Complete.

Jess and I had 8 hours of adventures that followed that first "Aroo!" and jog through the smoke and columns. With every minute the fears and challenges pressed in around us. Sometimes, they were external, as Spartan Race asked us to asses our fear of heights and swing from ropes suspended over frigid water; other times, they were internal, as your mind tried to convince your body it couldn't go on because the woods were too deep, the ascent too high, the wall too tall.

Initially, your little battles lead to easy victories... The race gets you over some short walls, a mud pit or two, a jog through the sun. Minor challenges, easily surmountable when your brain is focused and your body is fresh.

Then, you are tested. What will you do when your calves are shooting acid as you press up the hill? How will you answer when that Atlas Stone carry seems just a little too heavy? Will you step up when your bravado wears thin and your weaknesses start to show? As you cross the monkey bars with grit in your eye, rocks in your shoe and an internal assurance that your shoulders are pulling out of their sockets, do you reach forward again, or bow your head in deference to the obstacle that's beaten you? (Yes, every time I do a penalty-burpee, I internally curse the obstacle that is forcing me to bow before it.)

Here, where your fear is laid out neatly in front of you and your comfort thrown to the wind, Spartan Race - and it's participant - separates itself from every other race of it's kind: it dares you to go further.

Can you stand your mental monologue while climbing up, sometimes on your hands and knees, a goat path through the woods, where there is no end in sight... just more UP? When you get to mile 8 or 9, after working for hours, will you heft that sandbag and pull that sled on muscles long burned out of their reserves... will you drop into another cold bath to conquer the rope traverse with your already chilled to the core body? When you crest the last hill, only to find a 10 foot wall at the top, and all part(s) of your body screaming at you (some louder than others), do you eye it with resolve to get up an over some way some how, or defeat, because you fear your body has nothing left?

The Beast growled a greater challenge still to the Spartans that continued forth; it laid you bare to the bones of yourself.

In a constant state of wet, gritty and muddy, your body already pushed, bruised, strained and pulled to every extreme, your knees and ankles aching from the extreme ups and downs, hunger sets in, and for me, so did the darkness. Still on the mountain, as the sun set and the light mist started to sputter from the solid-dark sky, we were handed our most primal fear - darkness. Could you press forth, hearing the skittering animal feet in the leaves to your right? Will you move forward and don your Hobie-Band (a rough obstacle for 13+ miles of mountain worn legs) to finish the obstacle, with just the dim circle of light from your headlamp?

Finally, you hear it... the thumping music of the festival in the distance, signaling safety, sustenance and the right to stop. However, you emerge from the woods, hurting, wincing, sweating, but moving... only to find that The Beast is not done with you yet. You can see by fire light the comforts of The End, the arms of your supporters eager to hug their congratulations, the elusive green medals clinking in the distance, the thought of a warm sweatshirt at the forefront of your thoughts.

A Valiant Attempt...

.... and yet... you are sent down to your belly to crawl again, to fight past the throbbing in your knees and elbows as you roll them over rocks for the third time that day. You stand in front of the masses and hurl your spear with the desperation of a huntsman that hasn't brought down a catch in months, agonizingly burpeeing out the penalty of failure.

The last set of penalty burpees...
(Hey! Is that a bicep?!)

Rallying your muscles to throw yourself into one last feat, you drag yourself to the top of the slippery wall, momentarily sitting on top of your plywood mountain to survey the homestretch.

This is it.

This is the moment that the Spartan in you awakens. So far beyond the tolerances you thought you had, the pain threshold you thought you knew, the steps your legs could take, the fear you thought you had, you find yourself eyeing the final two obstacles.

At every Spartan Race, the last two obstacles are symbolic and integral to your Finish Line Realization.

In the darkness, with a sputter of energy I didn't know I had, I ran - because every racer runs, regardless of their state at the time - into the horseshoe of fire. Spurred on by the race, the mountain, the misconceptions, the doubts, the obstacles that I was leaving behind and now surrounded by fire, you leap - flinging your arms into the air in triumph. Why is every racer's fire-jump picture so inspirational? Because it is here that they are reforged - literally in the fire - and emerge on the other side.

Landing your jump, you have one last task before your Spartan realization is solidified: The Gladiator Pit. You - exhausted and depleted mentally and physically - are facing a gauntlet of formidable, armed opponents, focused only on delaying your crossing to the Finish Line.

You Run (they always run.), headlong, into the fray. Here, with every gladiator's jostle, every tap of the padded pugil stick, every evasive duck, you prevail against the forces that could've prevented you from finishing. A pugil stick for that seizing IT band, a dodge to the left for the thought process that told you you couldn't see the end, a shoulder check back to the gladiator for the moment a frustrated tear had welled up in your eye at mile 11.

No Spartan Left Behind. Chicks Starting together,
Conquering together, Finishing together.

Bolstered by your victory, you bound - injured, cold, hungry and tired alike - across the finish line, skidding to a muddy stop to receive your prize. A medal. A medal placed around your neck, symbolizing all you've been through, all the monsters you faced, the fears you looked square in the eye. A medal, representing things singular to you and that finish line, capturing the old version of yourself that you gave to the mountain, and reminding your new Spartan Self from whence it came.

You'll Know at the Finish Line, is the truth. What will you know? It depends on you, the day, the race, the mountain. Tilting my head to receive my blazing green Beast medal, I knew that my friends and fellow Spartans were more important than my finish time, this *was* the body of an athlete in the making (even if it didn't look like it, especially in muddy spandex...), that I was tougher and more determined than any fear, doubt or insecurity I had, if I decided to be, and that I have no limits - because I can redefine them at will.

With that, BlogLand, I will leave you with a quote to ponder:

"Nothing is impossible; there are ways that lead to everything, and if we had sufficient will we should always have sufficient means. It is often merely for an excuse that we say things are impossible." - Francois de La Rochefoucauld

My Dad came to see his First Spartan
Race, and my 8th - and most monumental
Spartan Finish.

A little over a year ago, sitting on my couch, I'd grown complacent with letting life happen to me and thought the possibility of becoming anything other than what I was was never going to happen. Running was impossible. Losing 80+ Pounds were impossible. Obstacles were impossible. Fitness was impossible.

Now, I've completed the Spartan Beast (and with it, the cherished Trifecta) - 14 miles of the most difficult physical hell of my life, outlasted 70% of the racers that started, was still walking upright the next day, and began entertaining the thought of facing the Ultra Beast next year.

Nothing is impossible; I know The Beast uttered a snarl of approval, as I learned that at the Finish Line.

“Know from whence you came. If you know whence you came, there are absolutely no limitations to where you can go.” James Arthur Baldwin

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 290:

There are moments in life that can change us forever; they awaken something in ourselves that we hadn't known existed, unleash the parts of us that we had kept caged, or suddenly prove to ourselves that our dreams can, no matter how big or "impossible," become a reality.

As I crossed the finish line at my first Spartan Race - The Colorado Spartan Military Sprint - with tears welling up in my eyes, and a smile on my face, I knew that The Moment was suddenly upon me.

290 Days ago, I decided I was done living a life trapped in my limitations, hindered by my spare tire of junk food and resigned to going where ever I drifted, rather than steering my life in the direction I wanted to go. I set a goal. A BIG one: Be fit enough to successfully complete a Spartan Race before I turned 30 (for someone that was 284 pounds, never run a day in her life, never been "sporty" or "strong" this was a colossal undertaking). One thing lead to another, and I found myself debarking a plane into 85 degree weather in Colorado, about to attempt that very thing.

I was petrified. Seriously. I am not a nervous person, by any stretch of the imagination, but the thought of attempting this feat made my stomach some weird amalgamation of knotted butterflies (yeah. Try and picture that.). Thankfully, upon my arrival in Colorado, I was surrounded by some of my closest Spartans (including, but not limited to, Sara - of the Sandbag post fame, and my GT), that helped keep my busy and keep my nerves down. Ish.

It all began at packet pickup. Please note that in BIG RED LETTERS it decidedly informs you that "YOU MAY DIE." (I did not tell my mother this.) Excellent. Clearly, I had lost my mind. I was in over my head. I was not ready. I'd never be ready. I'm not this person. I don't do these things. My inner Fat Chick had a panic attack. Outwardly, I kept it together (at least I thought I did). At this point, while "relaxing" in the hotel lobby, people watching all the incoming Spartans, I got to meet my first new friend of the weekend - Katy! Katy is a Colorado Springs local, also running her first Spartan. We'd "met" on the Chicks FB Page, and found some comfort in being Spartan Sparkles (Sparkle: a Spartan Chick that hasn't run a race yet.) at our first race together.

Later on, I got to meet Jill, a friend of Sara's, who would join our cast of characters for the weekend. Jill was also a Sparkle, but with a running background. She was quick to laugh, smile and share a really positive attitude. I could not have asked for better people to surround myself with... and they just kept coming!

With no Hurricane Heat to get to, we ate a leisurely dinner and all decided to turn in early. I tried. I swear. I got back to the room and tried to pack my race-day bag. I am pretty sure I just paced around, putting stuff in my backpack, taking it back out again, fretting whether I'd brought the right stuff, what to do, and everything in between. I had doubts. BIG doubts. My arms are still akin to T-Rex, I was still too much overweight, the heat would kill me, the altitude would get me, I'd be LAST....... I laid in bed. Thank god the sheer mental circles I had run all day, coupled with getting up at an obscene hour to get to the airport, as well as flying BACK in time, had me tired. I passed out.

.... and woke up on RACE MORNING. OHMYGODOHMYGOD. Again, I would like to emphasis that I am not a nervous person. But this was unlike anything I'd ever attempted before. I was about to attempt to prove myself, and half the world that told me I couldn't, absolutely wrong. I donned my Pink and Black - inwardly smiling and thinking of the 3000+ Spartan Chicks that virtually supported me all over the world. Over the preceding few days I'd gotten countless messages of love and support, from people I've never met. This Spartan Family is like no other, let me tell you.

I managed to choke down some breakfast, understanding the importance of fueling, and it was in the car we went. I could barely stand myself. My usual loud-mouth self was quiet. I tried to breathe in the beautiful Colorado scenery and relax... but that didn't seem to be on the horizon. But the Race Site was. We boarded a shuttle in front of the hospital on Fort Carson (... interesting choice of shuttle spot, Spartan Race. ), and there was no turning back.

Our small group of Spartans gathered at the registration area, getting situated. We sorted out numbers, figured out timing chips, and consolidated our bags. I will freely admit that I couldn't put on my own timing bracelet because my hands were shaking too badly.
Here's me, trying to stay sane, posing with my outfit-twin, Sara:

It was a little after 9am and the final prep had begun. Our team (mostly Spartan "Storm Chasers" with a few new recruits!) was headed out at 9:30am. Bags were checked, shoelaces were checked and rechecked, and we took our Before picture:

Over in the starting gate corral, the energy was infectious. There were 300 people following an emcee doing yoga stretches. Music was bumpin'. People were taking pictures. I wanted to throw up. I stuck close to my GT, a veteran Spartan, hoping to absorb some of the calmness that seemed to surround him. I couldn't stand still. I paced. I bounced. I stretched. It was time.

The announcer ran through a rendition of the famous Coach Flowers speech, "I am a Champion"... only as "I am a Spartan." Listening to 300 people feed off this energy had goosebumps raising on my skin. As the "AROO!!"s echoed around me, I tried to center myself by reminding myself that I was here just to finish. To show myself that I could. To do the best I was able. I would be officially leaving my Inner Fat Chick at that start line, and daring to attempt something that I never could've possibly imagined two short years ago.

We started running. An easy jog led us through a line of Greek columns, cameras snapping, dramatic smoke drifting all around us, and finally, I was moving. This felt better. I needed to focus, set my mind on a task and move forward. My body knew how to do this running thing, thankfully. We hit autopilot and my legs carried me over the dry desert and up to our first obstacles.

First, Mud Pits. Three in a row. Jump them if you could, wade them if you couldn't. Seemed simple enough. With a solid running leap (thank you Plyo training!), I made the first two with no problem. .... Jump three, I landed in waist high mud, and suddenly had an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction. There is something about landing in mud that really makes your inner 5 year old smile. PLUS, let me just tell you, it was a blessing. 85 degrees and sunny seemed beautiful, but it was AMAZING to get wet right off and cool off the body temperature. My posse gathered and we pressed on.

As we left the mud pits behind us, my GT ran up along side me and pressed a muddy hand print onto the back of my shirt. Before I had a chance to raise an eyebrow (or retaliate!), he simply explained that, "if you get worried, remember I have your back."

We crawled under some netting, scaled some low walls and I was starting to feel okay. I had an outlet for the pent up energy, and so far, so good. My "fat ass" and I had gotten over the low walls with no help, with a small semblance of grace... maybe I'd be okay. However, knowing Spartan Race, this was merely a warmup.

(You'll forgive me if some of my story gets jumbled at this point. It is hard to keep the exact sequence of 30+ obstacles in order, as you fight through them. )

My first true challenge came at the soapy wall. The task was thus: wade through thigh-high soapy mud water, then scale a slippery wall, with the "assistance" of a wet, soapy, muddy rope. Having done my studying, I knew that the key here was to keep one's body as perpendicular as possible to the wall, to maintain your grip. I began my ascent. Two-thirds of the way up, gravity started to catch up with me, the wall got slippery-er, I fought to keep my grip and it got hard. At which point I remembered that we were directly in front of the spectators. Like 12 feet away. There was NO WAY that I was going to be the fat chick (I was trying to leave her at the start line, I swear), that did a face plant and slid down the soapy wall, like a bug on a windshield. I fought my T-Rex arms, and with a leap of faith (that earned me my first giant bruise of the day), I took a big pull with my arms, and tossed my right leg over the top, with no helping hands. VICTORY!!!! I was feeling pretty damn good, descending the other side.

I earned my first burpees of the day at the back to back Grenade Toss and Rope Climb. Yeah. 60 burpees total here. In prep for the Beast this fall, I will definitely be working on this area.

Onward, to the beginning of the real journey. The infamous Spartan Race Barbed Wire Crawl. Where the determined become Spartans, and the weak get whiny. From the start point of the crawl, you (thankfully) couldn't gauge the scope of it. Instead, I simply followed instructions: grab a gun (yep, a gun. It is a "military sprint"), and start crawling. First, I would like to take a moment to have you, Dear Reader, ponder the logistics of this. Colorado desert man-made mud is clay. Which means it's heavy and sticky. When a metal gun becomes severely encrusted with it, that gun becomes even heavier and harder to manage... but we were going to low crawl with it. There was only one solution (the one that landed me my other Giant Bruise of the day), cradle it in the crooks of your elbows/forearms, while still using your elbows to crawl along. We crawled. I kept my head low. The mud was like crawling through thick fudgey frosting... but with more sticks and rocks. It was slow going, but we had machine gun fire, the theme song to M*A*S*H, and even the Muppets for crawl music to keep us going. You can only go as fast as the person in front of you... and chances are, that person wasn't moving too quickly. Why? You're just crawling, you say? Let me tell you, trying to move your body through sticky mud, keep your pants on (thank you spandex! I didn't have nearly the wardrobe malfunctions that I witnessed!), hang onto your gun, not get a foot in the face and not impale your ass on barbed wire (Barbed wire: 1, Aja's Ass/Capris: 0), is EXHAUSTING. As we neared the end of the barbed wire crawl (we thought), we heard the rumor shouted "There's THREE SECTIONS!". In disbelief, we pressed on.... Through two more sections. Tricky Spartan Race. Tricky. Between  the first and second, I had to wade a mud pit (don't lose your gun!), and between two and three, I had to crawl through a tiny tunnel of hay bales. Let me just tell you, as my core started burn from all the side-crunch crawling, the sweetest sight I've ever seen was the end of that crawl (complete with photographer to capture our trauma).
I was starting to feel like a real Spartan, like I'd seen in the pictures.  (We later learned that that crawl is rumored to be one of the longest in Spartan history, clocking in at 8/10ths of a mile!)

Muddier that I've ever been in the last 10 years, we trotted on. It felt SO GOOD to be able to move again.

We tackled a few more obstacles with success (no, I'm not going to give you ALL the details!), when we hit the segment where I knew I could hack it - we got to the heavy stuff. Grabbing a women's sandbag and hoisting it across my shoulders, oddly put me at ease. THIS I knew how to do. Shimmying it around I found I didn't even have to hold it with my hands. I leaned into the near-vertical sandy, rocky hill and started climbing. Suddenly, I realized how lucky I was that I live in Vermont and have natural hills to train on. I kept moving steadily up that hill, leaving many a tough-looking gym rat, standing in the dust, gasping for air. Looks like this Sparkle was starting to do a little Chicking! (Chicking: (verb) to pass a guy in a race.) Maybe carrying some extra weight around my middle wouldn't hold me back too much after all...

The pack had really started to thin out by this point, and my posse was loosely together, in little groups of 2-3, as we approached my first big mental hurdle. The Tall Walls. I can't pull myself up them. I'm not a particularly good jumper. In my head, I'm HUGE and it would be a herculean effort for any poor soul to boost me up on one of those... and even if they did, what would my t-rex arms do when I got near the top?!?!? Oh. My. God. I felt my stride falter a bit, as we trotted up to the first wall, and I watched a few other attempts to get over. I had no options. I couldn't go around, this is why I was HERE. To show myself that I could do these things that I thought I couldn't. Thankfully, my GT was waiting at the wall with 10 fingers, ready to push me up there. I took a deep breath, and figured, well, at least I'd go out trying. It happened before I knew it. I found myself up on my arms at the top of the wall, and then dangling from the other side. Over.

I was OVER THE WALL.

No wait, BlogLand, let's stop a minute there. I was over. the. wall. One of my most giant fears, and it was over.

... well, sort of.

It would seem that while I would've thought ONE tall wall would've been fine to prove to myself that I could do it, Spartan Race seemed to feel that I needed two. But, just to be nice, they included a "step" on this one, which was the tiniest piece of board that you could use for a toe hold, part way up.

I watched several women clamor up and over this, with relative ease, thanks to some monkey-like skills and a tiny toe hold. I was surely not going to be one of them. I started to freeze up. This was different, I'd have to do this myself, with no boost. I didn't have the arm strength, that wall was too tall, I'm not a good climber, I don't know how...
"Aja. Get over here." the GT interrupted my thought train to Ican'tsville, mincing no words. I'd like to say that he read my mind, but probably the impending panic was becoming evident on my face, and he snapped at me enough to distract me and get me down to business.
Now or never, I thought to myself and reached for the wall. I'm not sure how it happened, BlogLand, but with no boost (just the comfort of knowing I did have a spotter down there, should I have an epic fail), I managed to get up and over that wall with some efficiency.

.... and it wasn't that bad. I was in one piece, I didn't need physical rescuing (mental, maybe), and I had completed that obstacle. If there was ever a moment to wax philosophical, this was probably it. I had just tangibly conquered my biggest obstacle fear, that I had built up in my head to being insurmountable, without severe embarrassment. But I was through it. Like many of my preconceived fears and notions about myself and my limitations, I very literally, left this one in the dust.

Our path led us over and around the dusty, cactus-filled landscape (you have no idea how many tiny spines I have pulled out of my hands and feet over the last two days), and through a few more obstacles. I gladly picked up a concrete block, tethered to a chain and dragged that bad boy up a hill and down the other side. I won't lie, I had to spur on a few boys that were lagging in front of me, by making jokes about being passed by a girl. They thought I was joking, I was serious. Heavy things are my wheelhouse, and they were slowing me down.

Our posse had spread out now, so the faster ones could stretch their legs, reassured that the worst (?) of the obstacles were over. I ran over the hills, chatting with my first Canadian of the day, dodging cactus and other pokey plants, keeping tabs on my girls behind me.  No Spartan left behind. Ever.

30 more burpees found me at the Monkey Bars and I was a bit frustrated. I had anticipated that would be the case, but I thought I would make it further through before dropping. AH well. For next time. As my girls caught up, and I urged them into a forward trot (if they only knew it was less to torture them, and more to keep my mind in the right place!), despite my raging desire for water. Seriously, it was HOT that day, and my mouth was as dry as the land we were traversing.

Then I saw her. The lady with the hose. Yep. We were literally about to run by her lawn. And she was standing there with her kids and a hose. MY HERO! She may have no idea how much she rejuvenated me with that cold soak down and spray to the face. Sometimes, folks, it's the little things. I was refreshed and eager to continue.

After a few more streams, climbs up banks, and other interesting tasks, I met my Biggest Challenge of the Day.

This one, I'm sure was the evil brain-child of the Fort Carson military residents, and the crazies at Spartan Race.

Picture this: a large ladder, made of logs, set in an A-frame. Make the apex about 12-15 feet off the ground, and space the logs out so that they are not a comfortable reaching distance apart. Make sure you have to stretch, to reach the next one.

Typically, I am not one afraid of heights, or particularly timid. Without thinking too hard about it, I got up on the first rung (that required climbing) and then sort of bear-crawled my way to the top.

... and was suddenly horribly overwhelmed.

Like I said, I'm not afraid of heights, but no one likes the thought of not being "secure" in their footing, and only facing a landing on some "soft" hay bales quite a ways down. I'm old enough to know that would hurt.

Here was the problem: How to transfer my body from the climbing up pose, to over the apex, and to the climbing down pose. Each way that I started to move, I felt unsteady, I was going to fall. Everything was a long reach away. I had no idea what to do.

I started to freeze up. It felt like forever (realistically, it may have been 20 seconds). And, of course, as one is want to do when they are feeling overwhelmed, I started to doubt. I was going to be that person that got "stuck" on the ladder thing. That they'd have to "extract" from the obstacle or some other craziness. I didn't want to be famous like that. I had to find a way down. I didn't know how. It was a long way down, I was going to fall, my arm started to shake (nerves).

Suddenly, after laughing earlier at the GT's seemingly insignificant gesture, I remembered the muddy hand print on my back. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that while he was not here to rescue me, he's taught me a lot of things that were here with me. For instance, there are a whole lot of things that I have already done (run a 5K for instance) that seemed more than impossible, until I did them. Plus, I won't lie, in a fit of panic a few nights before the race, I had made him promise that he was 100% sure I could do this race. He promised. He was sure. And I trusted him blindly, that he knew what he was talking about. I would do this, I could do this, and that seemingly silly hand print reminded me of that. Get down to business. I have done harder things (ever try the "No Bread" challenge for 60 days?!).

Thankfully, Sara happened to also be at the top of the obstacle, and had found a good way to conquer the top of it. She started to very matter-of-factly give me a plan ("swing your right leg over...."). At the same time, one of the military personnel staffing the obstacle must've sensed my hesitation, and stationed himself at the end of it. Sara's instructions continued to my left, while Military Guy (who reminded me more than a little of Sparta's own, Sergeant Sedlak) began going motivational on me. He yelled at me, and it was absolutely what I needed. "You GOT this." he screamed. "YOU can DO THIS!" he shouted.

I had not come this far to fail now. I moved. As soon as I got through the scary part at the apex, the rest of the obstacle was no problem. Military Guy greeted me with an enthusiastic "YEAH!" at the bottom and a high five. I hope he realizes how helpful he was, to this new Spartan.

I did it. I had been afraid. Of failing, of getting hurt, of looking stupid, of getting stuck.... and I had looked right at those fears and informed them that they could not hold me anymore. I was more than halfway through this pivotal journey, and there was no place for fear in Sparta, unless it was driving you forward.

Coming off that obstacle, I felt light. I could conquer anything put in my path, from here. I had my girls, Sara and Jill at my flanks, my GT metaphorically at my back, and a whole new confidence emerging from the mud. I did not have to be held back by my doubts any longer. I chose to be stronger, I chose to make a change, I chose to become Spartan, for all that that encompasses.

The rest of the race passed in a bit of a blur. I was all smiles. I recall joking with a band of red-clad Canadians as I ran up along side them on the trail. One dude had a Spartan mohawk hat, with a Canadian leaf on the side. Impressive mash-up, sir. Well done.

I blew through the Hercules Hoist (rope and pully a concrete weight to the top and lower it down slowly), with no effort at all, got into a quick familiar rhythm with the Ski-Erg machines (thanks to my CrossFit gym!), and pressed on into the homestretch. I could hear the crowds in the distances, and knew that we were getting close to the end. I was fueled on a weird mix of Adrenaline, Happiness and feelings of Triumph, as I dived into the neck-deep ice water of the dark tunnel crawl.

I'm going to stop here to comment on this one. This may have been my favorite. I absolutely loathe being hot. Particularly hot and dusty. That was pretty much how I'd spent the better part of this course (yes... we were in the desert...). For this obstacle, you got in a deep trench, a little wider than shoulder width, filled with water and covered with tarps (hope you weren't claustrophobic...). You had to sort of half swim, half crawl on your hands and knees, and there was no standing up, EVER. I am pretty sure we crawled/swam the length of a football field, and the water was cold. I was so happy. My internal temperature dropped a bit, I got my swim on, and emerged at the end a (still smilin'!) dripping mess.
I scrambled up a muddy hill, and sliding down into the mud pit on the other side, I noted that we were close to the end; I could hear the crowd's shouts of encouragement to the competitors, on the other side of the cargo net tower in front of me. I was energized. It was all within my grasp now.

Suddenly, I was struck with a pang of disappointment. Allowing for the different abilities to run to their level, I had lost my GT on the course a while back. All things considered, it wasn't a huge deal, but somewhere in my head, it was a little bit. For the last 290 days, he's stuck with me through sanity and craziness, (lots of) tears and smiles, 400 million questions and requests for explanation, doubts and protests, successes and failures, and most importantly, he truly believed I could do it (and repeatedly reminded me of this when I wasn't sure) from the day I decided to leave the couch and change my life. It seemed fitting, in my mind, that he should be by my side when I crossed that momentous finish line. I would be crossing alone.

Pushing that thought aside, I focused on where I was. I was surrounded by supporters, my girls were to my sides on the cargo net, and there were Spartans all around me that were like family I had not had the chance to meet yet, sharing a similar drive toward personal goals, new challenges and better lives.

Down the other side, I met my last 30 burpees of the day (burpee obstacles: grenade toss, rope climb, fence pole step things, monkey bars, traverse wall) at the traverse wall. That is much harder than it looks. Hand grips and toe holds are really tricky when everything is wet and muddy. I will have to develop some strategy here for next time. Like, maybe assessing the individual walls a little more clearly and picking a less muddy one? Developing more grip strength? Something. Hmm.

Lastly, my ladies Sara and Jill, gathered up and we attacked the fire jump together (I'm SO hoping for an epic picture here, NuVision!). Landing, I saw that all that stood between me and the finish line where a couple of armed gladiators. They were the least of my worries. I had scaled a wall, waded through mud, flipped a tire... why would I be worried about them?! I smiled and ran for the middle.

... and I caught sight of the finish line.

To one side of the red, blown up arch labeled Finish, my incomparable GT stood holding one, single finisher medal.

My eyes went blurry with an inexpressible array of emotion, and I barely saw the gladiators, or felt the taps of their pugil sticks.

I did it. I was crossing the finish line of a Spartan Race.

I ran straight at my GT, dove into a huge hug, and came out with a Spartan Race Finisher Medal around my neck.

BlogLand, everything they say (the Spartan Race Motto) is true:
I knew at the finish line.

I knew that by crossing the finish line, I had proven to myself that I was stronger, mentally and physically, than I could've ever imagined. I knew that I could overcome and conquer things that scare me. I knew that limits had no hold over me, if I decided I was destined beyond them. I knew that I would no longer be bound by what my "inner fat chick" thinks, because I had just proven her so very,very wrong. I knew that I was my only competition. I knew that with this tangible victory against the odds, I would be different from here.

I couldn't tell you so much about what happened the remainder of the day, as the glow of Victory and Satisfaction (coupled with a haze of fatigue and thirst...) is clouding my memory.

What I can say is that the banana they hand you at the end of the race, guaranteed, will be the absolute best banana you've ever eaten. No joke. Major Om Nom Nom factor.

Additionally, Spartan Race also plans in a Secret Obstacle for those who uncover it (think of it like the Easter Egg secrets in a video game), called the Icy Showers of Death. This involves grouping your friends around a hose with a high pressure nozzle, and taking turns pressure-washing each other with the coldest water you've ever felt in your life, until you have removed 95% of the cement-like mud you have collected over the last couple of hours. Things to consider: You will need to stick this hose in your shirt and down your pants. Yes. You have mud there. Are you Spartan Tough?

Finally, I will say, that I consider myself lucky to have met and run with so many of the fabulous Spartans. From the new friends I met on the course (Thank You, guy-losing-his-shorts that didn't let the barb wire take my eye out!), to the Chicks I met for the first time, to the good friends that will be with me always, it is an incredible menagerie of people that Spartan Race has brought into my life. I also knew that at the finish line, as we grouped to take our After Picture:

For anyone that considering running, do it. You can. You are strong enough, fast enough and powerful enough. "Sign Up, Show Up, Don't Give Up." You have no idea the gift you will have given yourself. It won't be easy. In fact, it will be really difficult. You'll have to train, you'll have to change some habits, you'll have to travel outside of your comfort zone in ways you can't even fathom right now. But I can honestly say that at 29 years old, crossing that first finish line was one of the most rewarding and life-altering things that I've ever done.

AROO!!!!!!

"Never let your head hang down. Never give up and sit down and grieve. Find another way." ~Satchel Paige

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 268:

What a DAY, BlogLand. It turned out to be a beautiful Friday here in VT... warm, but not too warm (like March should be), and sunny. FINALLY.

Today was 5K training with a couple of co-workers/friends, since we're preparing to run the Corporate Cup 5K in mid-may. Prizes include company-wide bragging rights, as well as general race feelings of accomplishment. SO, we train on Friday's after work. Luckily, we have access to a great rec path not too far away, that has marked mileage, as well as lovely little scenic rolling hills. The tourists love this place.

Our training trio also had a tiny addition, today - one of the ladies had brought her (SO CUTE.) daughter in the jogging stroller. She had mentioned that pushing the jogging stroller was quite the effort last time she tried it, and it would be great to be able to switch off. Having never tried running with a loaded stroller, I thought to myself (as I often stupidly do), "how hard could it be? It's on wheels, her little girl isn't that big...." so I volunteered to take that duty. Since a 5K is a pretty usual run for me, I figured any added challenge would be a bonus, and would allow my other two buddies (who are just getting back into running) to focus on what they were trying to accomplish. An excellent plan!

(This is where I must temporarily digress and throw a shout out to Spartan Chick Shaina - remember the one I told you passed me last week in my race, pushing a double jogging stroller? Dear Shaina... I was humbled then.... and now.... holy crap, lady, you are a beast. I am proud to say you passed me.)

If you have never tried running and pushing one of these things before, it seems very simple. However, I soon learned that - like most of these workouts - it is anything but. Yes, it glides along nicely, but you are still pushing against constant resistance. Not to be thwarted, I took off my long sleeves ( it got warm fast...), and settled down to -work-.

I got in the swing of things and how to run well with this stroller after about 1/2 mile or so... just as we hit the first "quaint, rolling hill". This is the point at which I learned just how heavy a jogging stroller and 3 (?) year old are, when they have absolutely no forward momentum of their own, and have gravity working against you. They may look cute, but they are 80 pounds (?) of something that is working against you, while you are trying to keep pace and move it up a hill. But it was early in the run, and I navigated this first hill pretty well.

Soon after, I learned that I could maneuver the stroller with one hand on the flat, freeing my other arm up to swing in stride. That helped the situation, allowing me to get into more of a regular motion that my body is used to. I was warm, and I was ON a MISSION now. There was no way I was going to pass off this duty and be defeated by a sporty yellow stroller and a cherubic, blond tiny chicklette.

On we went. I was in the groove. I figured out it was more efficient to just plow up the hills. While I was still having to push the effort, it was over more quickly... and probably, those weighted hill sprints (I think 6 in total?) were good to break up the run and challenge my muscles a bit more.

I did stumble across the best motivator EVER, though. As we jogged along, the Mom, unfettered by stroller, would sometimes get ahead of us. If she got *too* far ahead - meaning I wasn't busting my butt enough - the mad cuteness in the stroller would start saying things like, "Catch Mommy!!!" and "MOMMY WAIT!". Oh God. If that doesn't make you run faster. How could you say no to that!?!
.... As a reward, apparently when I was keeping up the appropriate pace, the wee one would sing pleasantly to herself.

As came back, when I knew we were in the last mile or so, I figured it was time to push it a bit, and really get some good work in. I've slacked a bit this week with other WODs, so time to push. I picked up the pace.
.... which oddly felt good. (WHAT!? Was I having fun?!)
My body felt really strong running today, so I pushed it more. More speed. We were in the last quarter mile.

Can you do sprints pushing a jogging stroller?

.... OH YES you can.

I challenged the Mom of the Wee Cuteness to a sprint. And by that I mean I said (as I trotted out in front), "Don't let me beat you!!!" In retrospect, it was probably a pretty evil thing to do, as both my running buddies were getting tired.... but, I figure, everyone needs a push and a little incentive sometimes, right? I know I do.

We hauled ass. There is no better way to say that. She busted past me, right as we got to the end.... but I maintain that that was because we hit an uphill and I had to push her baby. LOL. Or she was running like something was chasing her. It was GOOD WORK. 5K, in the books for today, no problemo.

I decided, as I was running the last bit of it, I was enjoying the process of running with the added challenge. I think this means that I'm going to have to start running with Extras (weight vest? log? rock? tire?) more often. It was really nice to feel like I was challenged by something outside of my own body.

After mentioning this excellent workout and my revelation about running with weight, I got the most awesome response. Sparta's own Sergeant Sedlak (you remember way back when, when Todd came to try and kill me on the track?), simply commented:

"Where's that girl who couldn't run three miles without walking?"


... annnd.... I had instant teary eyes (Thanks, Todd! geesh. ;-)). I was suddenly reminded very distinctly of how far I had come. I think I really needed that. I remembered very vividly the extreme frustration because I just *couldn't* seem to get over the hump of running straight through a 5K without walking, no matter how often I did it, or how hard I tried. My own brain was sabotaging me somewhere I couldn't find to tackle. I also remember in extreme clarity, the day that I finally accomplished that run, jumping into a giant hug, sweaty and ecstatic, at the finish line of a little 5K with my GT, who had coached me through running the whole thing - even when I was "sure" I could not.
In between those two moments, I found support and help came from everywhere - even places you never expect. Veritable strangers who are willing to meet you at the crack of dawn to help you start seeing yourself in a different light, hordes of online friends who sent messages and tips to me, who'd they'd never met, acquaintances who'd tell me that they were inspired by my determination, a GT who sticks with me through extreme crazy spells, and (a select few) friends who always listened patiently (even when they didn't care or know what I was talking about), about that day's run... Even the completely random strangers who the Cosmos would sporadically have cross my path and cheer me up a hill, or beep support at me running hard in the city.

I have been beyond lucky, BlogLand. Moments like tonight, when I am reminded of my beginnings and the journey it has been, really reinforce that for me. I'm proud of myself. Not necessarily because I ran today, or I ate an apple instead of a cookie, but because I made the decision to DO THIS. And I am.

I'm not where I want to be, yet (and really, can you ever be "there"?), but I'm having one hell of a journey. It's nerve-wracking at times, I doubt myself, I cry because it hurts, I scream because I still struggle, I wonder if I'll ever make progress..... Then I am reminded that I *KNOW* I will make more progress. Because I have. Because of the most odd-ball fabulous support system, ever. Because I'm not a quitter. Because I didn't come this far to turn back now. Because I CAN (and there are not enough Thank Yous, for those of you who've helped me really believe that).

 And I've decided I'm not done, yet.

Sow an act, and you reap a habit; sow a habit, and you reap a character; sow a character, and you reap a destiny. George Dana Boardman

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 212:

212. I got stuck at that weight, not too long ago. Yep, that was the first thought that came to my mind, BlogLand... Which brings us nicely into tonight's topic: My Fat Ass, and the stir it causes when I clad it in spandex compression wear and trot it around town, gettin' sweaty on a Friday night.

... perhaps that was a little much, all at once. But I will get back to that. I think we shall begin from the beginning of the Thought-Train.

I have been away for a few days. Not really "away", but mentally checked out. My sleep habits are crashing again, life stress has been creeping in... stupid stuff. However, I felt a bit relieved when I saw this quote, yesterday:

"My 'worst' day is better than you on your best day."

And I don't mean that in a malicious way, or even directed at anyone other than Old Me. It just caused me to stop and pause. On my "Bad" days now (like the last few), I still stuck to my healthy eating, I still planned how to proactively get out of the slump, I still looked forward to my next CrossFit session. Even on a "bad" day, my head was still in the game. Old Me, on a good day, could not even fathom these things. Sometimes (just SOMEtimes), you need to cut yourself some slack. You're not going to be perfect. You're human. Despite your best efforts, you may not get to WOD 6x a week, 2x day. Things happen. Life happens. Look at the changes you've made. I eat very little processed carbs now - even on my bad days, I'm going a little extra crazy on the strawberries that are in my house..... Not chips or fries, or chocolate. That, in and of itself, is a victorious battle.

(“The most important of life's battles is the one we fight daily in the silent chambers of the soul.” David McKay)

Alright. Let's get to today. 

BlogLand, my name is Aja, and it's been three days since my last WOD. 

I didn't feel like running today. I wanted to sit on my couch. I knew that that was decidedly the wrong answer. I laced up my shoes and decided I'd get out there for a bit, even if I didn't do the scheduled 4.5 miles. Needed to get out there. I'm under 80 days before my first Spartan, and the CMC is not far after... My ass needs to get re-focused and in gear. 

However, I think we've entered the "WORK" phases of my Training. Maybe this is really the mental part. Because I'm in better shape, I find that progress notches are getting more difficult to achieve, as well as spaced farther and farther apart. As someone who excels with a lot of feedback and visible achievement, this is getting trickier. My weight loss, while still steadily down, has slowed a bit (working on that), too. Not that I am deterred from my goal(s), but motivation can be hard to maintain, when you don't have those proverbial "gold stars" to look forward to. And it's hard now. LOL. 

Not that it wasn't always hard, in different ways (running 1 minute was exceedingly hard at one point), but now the next things are legit challenging endeavors. For example. It is very possible that in the next six weeks, if I stick to my training schedule, as planned, I will be running long runs that are over 10 miles. I do it because it's hard, and I want to... but no one will ever tell you that 10 miles (no matter how much you enjoy running) is "easy". Or Pull Ups. I'm STILL working on pull ups. No gold star there yet. I'm pretty sure 50% of the world can't do them... but I want to. Must. Keep. Doing. Work. 

Morale of the Story: It's not always "fun". You may go through stretches where it's just a WOD, and the victory is having gotten up and done it. But in the end, it will all be worth it. I believe that, truly, even if sometimes I need that reminder.

Now, let's get on to the more interesting stuff. I went running tonight (shocking. I know.). Incidentally, I was carrying my hot pink mini-mace - a Valentine's present (nothing says lovin' like a self-defense weapon). It was also a refreshing change to be dressed in much thinner layers. It was a balmy 37 degrees here, when I hit the sidewalk. Ohhh yeaaah.... Heat Wave in Vermont!

I started out doing my usual route, but I was fueled with a little mental chaos, and my inner Spartan challenged me to push harder, to clear my mind. Deviating from/adding to my usual route, I starting pushing up a long, slow hill. I should add that I started this hill at mile 2.5 out of a 5 mile round trip. Surprisingly, I charged up that damn thing (go go Gadget, Emotion-Fueled Running!). I didn't stop, not once, for the whole long incline. Although I was breathing pretty hard when I hit the top, it still felt in control. Like, my lungs were on fire, *but* I didn't feel like I was going to die (ahh... the distinctions I make these days... lol). AND, I am happy to report that my legs felt pretty good. Yeehaw. 

Although, I stopped at the top of the hill to wait for the crosswalk. My first rookie mistake. Should've just kept running, somehow. It was a long light, and I had to stop and stand for a few minutes. I was glad for the break, after that ridiculous hill, but then a wave hit me and I assumed The Position. Exercises enthusiasts world-wide are familiar with this pose:

- Bent at waist

- Hands on knees, clutching, white-knuckled

- Head drooping low, between tight shoulders... 

... begin dry heaving (or really try not to). 

Yeah. Because I'm that awesome. There is nothing like standing at an intersection, waiting for a crosswalk light, trying not to throw up. OH yeah. My cool factor is exponential. It's a good thing that I don't so much care what people think, these days (more on that later). 

The crosswalk tweets, and with an "Uuuuughhh..." and a successful round of puke-prevention, I trotted across the street. It felt better to get moving again. Thankfully, this time, it was slightly down hill a little while for recovery's sake. 

I soldiered on at a pretty solid pace. As I hit the last half mile home, I experienced The Event. 

I was tired and sweaty (cut me some slack, I'd just run almost 5 miles, at a good pace and up a hill!), and jogging along. Black, ugly car, packed with 4-5 young idiots of both genders, drives by me. Proceeds to slow down, roll down windows and yell some bullshit about my "FAT ASS," among other commentary. I internally "grr" to myself, but keep running. Isolated incident, right? WRONG. I was the lucky recipient of no less than TWO MORE drive-by hecklings by these jerks. 

First, I have two things to say here. 1) My ass is no longer fat. In fact, it does not jiggle, nor does it look half bad in my compression wear. Big shout outs go to squats for that one. 2) WTF!? Don't you have better things to do?!

Here's the thing, though, BlogLand. Old Me was a big part of my life. I'd say say the better part of my pre-teen-adult life has been spent significantly overweight and varying points of out of shape. When you live that way or grow up that way, you get harassed. While completely ridiculous and unacceptable, to me, it seems to just come with the territory. No one in middle school wants the fat, non-athletic girl on their team in basketball. Yeah. I remember those things. I remember *exactly* what it feels like to line up in that cold school gym, on the red line, waiting while teams were picked, and resigning yourself to the fact that you were going to be last. Oh, and the pinny/jersey thing that everyone would get to identify their team - that wasn't going to fit. Yes, I totally wanted to wear it just around my neck. OH and yes, I will absolutely spend the entire class trying to figure out how to blend seamlessly into this wall, make myself disappear, and avoid the ball at all costs. Maybe, at least then, Their gaze and obvious knowledge of my incompetency, would pass by. 

Yeah. Those experiences don't ever leave you, BlogLand, but they don't need to define you. At least that's what I'm learning as an Adult in Fitness-Recovery. That may be who I *was* (wave at Old Me!), but it isn't who I am. I'm still not in great shape. There are parts of me that jiggle (as I'm sure you're aware after my previous, scantily clad post. LOL), but you know what? They're me. And this Honey Badger don't give a shit. 

Why? Because I know who I am. I know what's important to me. Quite frankly, the opinion of people I do not know, do not care to know, are not in my life, who I probably will never see again, who happen to be driving by the street I'm running on, DO. NOT. MATTER.  

Further, I was out running. You want to talk about my FAT ASS (yes, all in caps, because that's how it was yelled out the window to me), I'd like to see you keep up with my fat ass on today's run. Shall we do that hill again? Maybe we should discuss the WOD I'm in for tomorrow at CrossFit? Guess what? No matter how slow I go, I'm passing EVERYONE on the couch (or in this case, trollin' in their car). 

I'm not going to lie, as a chronic sufferer of FCS (Fat Chick Syndrome), the first time I heard that tonight, it hit me like a ton of bricks and mentally derailed me for 30 seconds or so. I was immediately 13 and in gym class all over again. Or 10 and on the bus. Or 16 and at lunch. Flashback to those feelings of guilt, shame and inadequacy all over again. 

The difference is now, I am almost 30 and have learned a few things along the way. Coping techniques, reframing strategies, whatever you want to call them. Instead, I get angry. I get angry for all the kids that are getting bullied. I get angry for all the versions of me that stuck out that kind of harassment, waiting for better days. I get angry for every single person who has had to be the take the stupid bullshit from some insecure projecting bully, and not had the ability to stand up for themselves. I get angry because now, I can see it with clarity for what it is - absolutely unfair and completely unnecessary projection of someone else's baggage. 

That is a lot of Angry Aja. But there's a lot of crazy Irish/Scottish tempers in these genes... we're not exactly know for our temperance. 

Having said that, in my Old Age, I'm also learning how best to handle that. I know that the thing that those bullies want most is your reaction. So don't give it to them. Whether it's the drive-by heckler, or the girl who looks down her nose at you at the gym - don't give them the satisfaction of effecting your life in any way. USE that negative energy that they have pushed out at you, and turn it to your advantage. Tonight, I ran harder. I ran old, insecure, not-feeling-pretty, I-can't-do-this, me right into the ground. 

Why? Because I am chasing down my finish line, and the important people will be crossing it with me and/or cheering from the side of it. The hecklers, whether literal like tonight's car-troupe, or more metaphorical, like the friends who won't support you, or the family that sabotages you, will all be left behind in the worst way - to wonder what they, too, might have been. 

Incidentally, here are tonight's run stats:

Time: 51:34 min.

Distance: 4.74 mi. 

Average Pace: 10:53 min/mi.

I would like to extend a big THANK YOU, to the carful of idiots. You propelled this FAT ASS to my new personal PR of speed, over that distance. I'd yet to break 11 min/mi. for anything over 3.5 miles, and thanks to you and the impetus your infantile idiocy provided me, I finally cracked that. 

I'm off to bed to sleep soundly, knowing that in just a couple months, I'll be crossing a literal finish line - having jumped fire, battled gladiators and all of my own demons - side-by-side with the people that helped me dream it and reach it..... while you, poor car trolls, will be making your next loop around Barre.

"It is confidence in our bodies, minds and spirits that allows us to keep looking for new adventures, new directions to grow in, and new lessons to learn - which is what life is all about." ~Oprah

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 209:

Happy Valentine's Day, BlogLand!

I did my best to remain blissfully neutral about this holiday, this year. As a hopeless romantic, it is a veritable tragedy to be alone on such a day. In recent history, it's been... not everything I wanted it to be. However, in keeping with the Life Transformation I've been working on for the last 209 days, I really wanted to try and turn that around this year. I didn't want to say that I was going to be "happy", but I wanted to appreciate what I did have a little more, and love the person that I am as an individual.

Confession time! I don't have a WOD to report on today. Nope. I went to get out of bed for a run this morning, and I'm pretty sure my quads were still seized from last night's inadvertent cycling adventures. I got up and stretched. And stretched some more... and decided that MAYBE a run wasn't going to be the best plan, if I ever wanted to walk again. More stretching. And breakfast. Om nom nom.

Then I went off to work. Being a Chocolate-Candy-Coated holiday, it was sugar and sweets and candy and cupcakes, etc. EVERYWHERE. Literally. There was a cupcake with M&M's on it ON my desk when I got there, and shortly thereafter, my boss came around with goodie bags for everyone filled with Reese's cups, beautiful strawberry cupcakes with pink swirl frosting, and twizzlers. OH my. Then someone else brought in brownies. Some Andes mints.... and the list goes on. Seriously, it reached ridiculous proportions.

.... I tried. I ate one bite of the brownie. I licked the frosting off the cupcakes (the frosting is the best part). I gave away some of my candy.

I think I still ate more sugar/general crap today than I have in the last 6 months put together. Subsequently, I feel like BLEEEH. (imagine that). I recognize this as Old Me's previous state of being... but Me 2.0 is like, EWWww. Seriously. Where is my lean protein and veg.
Don't get me wrong, BlogLand... I still eat that stuff, here and there. I love to bake. I adore chocolate.... but not in those kind of proportions. And what I had today, really, was nothing like the amounts I could've put back at various times.
Now, I feel sick. Ew.

HOWEVER. Today is all about Love. SO... with that reflection, I would like to tip my hat to the ladies over at the Spartan Chicks FB Group. The idea today was to post current body shots of oneself in their spandex - LOVE the skin you're in.  Basically, no matter what size, shape or place in your journey you are at, how alone you are at Valentine's day, or whatever the case may be.... take a good look at yourself and realize that you're some kind of awesome, and perfectly imperfect. Really take stock of the hard work you've put in and SEE the changes (not just gloss them over by focusing on the "trouble spots").

I'm not going to lie, BlogLand. I find what I'm about to do a little more than terrifying. I'm going to post my pictures for you. But, I figure hey... I can't just preach to you how you should do it, without taking my own advice. *gulp*

Valentine's Day, Self Appreciation, 02/14/2012

 So.... There you have it. That feels horribly exposing, probably because I've spent 90% of my life being told (by society, etc.) that I wasn't good enough. I was too fat, too tall, not pretty, SOMEthing. 

I've spent the better part of the last year trying to retrain myself into not being scared of walking into a gym, taking up crossfit, or entering a race, for fear of being judged, looked down upon,or being the slow kid dragging everyone down.

... but I have done all those things. Because I've done all those things, I've lost over 80#, am refinding myself and my love of life, and learning to appreciate my new, *strong* body. 

I'll never be a tiny, delicate person... but you know what? Crossfitting with some cool people has taught me to appreciate my crazy tree trunk thighs - they make squatting easier. My giant hands have better grip on the weight bars. My height makes those box jumps a little easier. 

It's all in how you look at it, BlogLand. I still see a LOT of my journey still left to go.... but I am starting to at least be able to appreciate how far I have come. Nope, there's no abs in those pictures above... YET. But you know what? Those guns up there are learning to do a pull up. (Have you bought your tickets to this Gun Show? BAM! hahaha)

This year, I dedicate my Valentine's Day to my body and where it's going to take me. As gifts I'll fuel you with healthy food (mostly), and for our next date, I heard that CrossFit was having an excellent class.... Body, you and me are in it together for the long haul. I suppose it's time we learn to accept our differences.