Determine never to be idle. No person will have occasion to complain of the want of time who never loses any. It is wonderful how much may be done if we are always doing. —Thomas Jefferson

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 490-497:

Ah, Holiday Time, BlogLand... Traditionally, this is a time for stuffing my face full of carb-tastic awesomeness, lounging on the couch, drinking spirits and generally lazing about in a haze of "Holiday".

Not so this year. (Aja 2.0, remember?)

Tuesday, I had a surprise come in the mail: "Biggest Loser: The Workout, Weight Loss Yoga." ... yes, there was a yoga DVD in my mailbox, and yes, I did actually order it (and a second one, actually!). Here's the thing, I've had a few injuries here and there over the course of the last couple of years that the treatment was "more stretching". I have an ankle that I need to work on mobility, to ensure it's continued health. How do you do that? "More stretching". I always feel tight in my legs, which causes more problems down the line... the solution... you guessed it. MORE STRETCHING. My GT has told me this, my PT has told me this, my Dad is a huge fan of yoga, many of my Spartans recommend it... basically, it was time to stop ignoring the voice inside my head that knows better, but was avoiding yoga because it is hard, and I'm not good at it.

After much research, I settled on this DVD (and also one by Jillian Michaels), because 1) it was short, with a workout in the 30-35 minute range, 2) it was made for beginner, not-bendy people and 3) it was not shot on some beach, with a bunch of beautiful people in bikini's Ohm'ing into the sunset. I hate that. This DVD is actually REAL people, in a studio, struggling just like I struggle.... and the best part - Bob provides modifications for all the moves. My biggest problem with traditional yoga DVD's is that I legitimately just can't do the moves. I don't bend like that (yet) and I can't physically do it. But then, they don't seem to provide you any options, or progression on how to get there. Bob, in this DVD shows you how to scale any move. It reminded me of CrossFit - allowing you to be successful and complete each move, in a progression toward greater things in the future. Also, this DVD included several workouts - geared towards a progression every couple of weeks, to keep you challenged, as you got better at it.

I begrudgingly put it in and got ready to roll my eyes and whine about having to do yoga. However, we had a nice stretching warm up and I was feeling pretty good. Bob isn't obnoxious to listen to, and the music in the background was unobtrusive. So far, so good. On to the main part of the "workout". So, this part was an easy 20-25 minutes long, but had my warmed up and stretching in ways that I typically would not. Or not for the length of time that I should. Downward dog, Triangle, Warrior. I was warm, getting a little sweaty, but it was gentle enough that I didn't not have sweat dripping down my face. Honestly, before I knew it (I hadn't gotten to whiny!), we were done and on to the cool down. I had done all the moves (some with more success than others...), and - wonder of wonders!!! - my legs felt great. They were loose, stretched out and not stiff.

Well. Hell. Everyone was right.

When I texted the GT to inform him of this he simply replied with a picture that said:
"If at first you don't succeed, try doing what your trainer told you to do the first time." and a note, "How was yoga?"

.... touche, GT, touche.

So, BlogLand, it would seem that I do not *hate* yoga... I just hate feeling unsuccessful at things. SO, many the lesson is I hated P90X yoga, because it was an hour and a half long, I was sweating like a crazy, and I couldn't do half of the moves. This Biggest Loser Weight Loss yoga allowed me the benefits I was looking for - gentle stretching, mobility, flexibility - in a nice, half hour ish workout that I can fit into my schedule several times a week, and *gasp* actually intend to. I feel some success coming on!
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Then, thanks to a little holiday scheduling, I managed to make a Wednesday night CrossFit class, with my favorite CF trainer, Shannon. Shannon, like my GT, just doesn't let me get away with half-assing it. He calls me out when the weight looks too light, or it appears that I am not nearly dying.

Stacey and I rolled into CF feeling pretty good and cheerful about the impending holiday... only to find one heck of a WOD. It sounds really simple in a way - Dumbbell snatches.  We did some skill work, and then on to the WOD...

5 rounds of:

• 10 pull ups
• 5 DB snatches (left hand)
• 5 DB snatches (right hand)
• 15 box jumps

Well, you know my thoughts on pull ups. I was using a huge band and struggle after the first 7-8, resigning myself to sets of 2-3 after that. By the last round, I was down to sets of... one. Yes. One. BUT, the key, BlogLand, is just to keep going. Even if it's slowly. 

I did the DB snatches *almost* at the prescribed weight. Prescribed was 35#, but I was pushing a 30# and made it through the WOD. My left arm in particular thought this was cruel and unusual punishment, but EFF you, Left Arm. 

The hardest part, actually, was the box jumps. Jumping is still a little weird on my post-shin-splint leg, so I'm more tenative. And box jumps are really just kind of a cardiovascular killer. Thankfully, as my jump was waning in the last couple of rounds, Shannon came around and threw some words of motivation at me, challenging me to push a little harder. WOD done. Pre-Turkey Day calorie burn, complete. 

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As Thanksgiving dawned, unlike any other before, I was dragging myself out of bed early and pulling on Spandex. Yep. I've become a Turkey Trotter. I signed myself up for a little local "Wobble Gobble 5K" just to get some mileage and to give myself some incentive to MOVE on the holiday, not just stuff my face with mashed potatoes.

It was cold, but Stacey and I were suited up in our Under Armor and ready to go. We're Vermonters, cold means nothing (other than layersssss!) to us. 

With almost no warning ("Ready?" *GUN*), we were buzzing off the first leg of the course. Immediately, I knew I was in terrible trouble. My legs were.... tired. Probably an intense session at CrossFit, the night before, including lots of box jumps and snatches (which use your legs to lift!), were not my best plan. But still, I thought to myself, it's JUST a 5K. No problem. 

I pushed. My legs felt like nothing. Literally. They had no gas. No go. No oomph. Suddenly, there was a little hill. 

BlogLand, I tried. So hard. 

I had to walk. It felt horrible, like admitting defeat. I haven't WALKED in a 5K race in a year. It killed me. But my body had nothing. With some encouragement from Stacey (who somehow managed to still be shuffling along!), I got trotting again. I thought I would die. I just.... couldn't. I admit, for a split second, I pondered if this is the race I would have to quit. That's how bad it was. 

BUT ( I can't stress the importance of running buddies and training buddies enough!), Stacey was right with me, not letting me quit. As I trotted at the top of the hill, with a pained expression and empty legs, I recall admitting outloud, "Stacey, I need help. Motivation. I've got nothing."

What followed was nothing short of miraculous. She told me exactly why I wasn't quitting. As we trotted down a long downhill, she reminded me where I had started, how far I had come, why I do these things, and EXACTLY how we were going to finish (whether I liked it or not). We'd done harder things, and I wasn't going to be defeated by a 5K turkey trot. 

I wanted to die, or cut my legs off, but we pressed on, leap frogging past Red Tights Girl and her Dad, who were running together. Red Tights Girl (RTG) appeared to be about 15-16 and suffering like me. Her dad was sticking with her, but she was having a hard time, taking short walk breaks too. Nonetheless, after we passed the indication that we only had like a 1/4 mile left, she picked up the pace, determined to finish strong. 

Thank god I'm competitive. I summoned some sort of phantom energy and managed to get by her (my legs are longer!). However, when we could SEE the finish line, a ways down the sidewalk, RTG made a sprint for it. It would be a long sprint, but I couldn't let her beat me after all this. 

I pulled a sprint out of somewhere. I have never felt more like throwing up in all my life. I passed her, as she dropped to a walk, but I had to settle back to a slow trot, trying not to regurgitate my banana all over the enthusiastic spectators. I trotted through the finish, as Stacey whizzed in front of me - a sprint to the finish, like ever good race should end!

I have never been so happy to get to stop. Seriously. A local 5K, with an easy course, nearly was the death of me. Thank god for Stacey's motivation and RTG for me to chase. I tracked her down at the end of the race and thanked her for a great race, and that I had chased her/been motivated by her chasing me, the whole time. 

My time was an even 33 minutes... definitely not a PR, but still squeaking in under an 11 minute mile. It was no amazing feat, but for the day after a CF wod, on dead legs, I'll take it. What I'll also take away from this is the accomplishment that I was UP, sweaty and moving (with a calorie deficit!), all before 10am on Thanksgiving. 

I was (am.) Thankful that my life has changed so dramatically for the better. 

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You would think I'd earned a little rest... and I sorta did...I ate and made merry, then slept late on Friday... but then it was off again, with the CG to a rock climbing competition in NH. We were bring some demo shoes for the climbers, and spectating... and as an added perk, we get to do some climbing. This particular gym in Manchester - Vertical Dreams - is a cool atmosphere. It's a laid back, community oriented sort of place. The competition announcements were made by a heavily pierced and tattooed guy sitting on a tall railing, while everyone sat around on couches. 'nough said. 

Since my series of recent injuries, I haven't been doing much climbing. At all. It hurt. Now that I'm recovered, I'm hoping to get back at it, to continue to help me build up my upper body (and I'm really enjoying the challenge of it!). Clipping in and getting back on the wall these first few times back were real ugly. I felt like I'd never climbed before, everything felt 4x as hard, and I felt uncoordinated. But, again, a speed bump in the road, and I'm back to training now. 

The highlight of the visit though was the converted elevator shaft, which made a 4 story - 75 FOOT - vertical climb. I won't lie, BlogLand, this was a bit intimidating. There was an "easy" route for me to try... but it was long and strictly vertical. I started up, got stumped a few places and had to rest, but over all, I had a good time. The CG egged me on from the bottom, projecting directions up the shaft, whenever I started to freeze up and get "stuck". But, thanks to a few previous climbs and some raging sore arms from the CrossFit workout a couple days prior, right around the 60ft mark, my arms were done and I had to quit. Still, 60 ft!!! How cool is that?! I know it's nothing like climbing outside or anything, but it was awesome to try a different wall and see what a significant height would feel like. It's a little nerve wrecking when you look down..... but maybe that should serve as a lesson - don't look back at the past... keep your eyes forward and up on where you're going!

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Saturday found me a complete rest day. I mean complete rest. Sleeping in. Didn't do much more than cook some tasty healthy food and wander around in my jammies. I'm pretty sure I showered, so Ha! There's some motivation for you. 

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The soreness in my arms had been building the last few days, and on Sunday, it really reached the height of unpleasant. My biceps and forearms were so tight that I just wanted to cut my arm off at the shoulder. I couldn't straighten my right arm - my bicep when hanging "relaxed" still kept my arm engaged and at an angle. When I reached for something, I had to make ouchy faces and whine, quite a lot. 

This indicated to me it was time for a lot of water, a ridiculous amount of Tiger Balm..... and more yoga. 

With The Soprano's on in the background, I cleared a spot and settled in for an easy 35 minutes of yoga with Bob. Again, I will say, it got me warmed up, stretched out and feeling 100% better, by the time I was done. It was an excellent active recovery to get my body moving, but nothing too taxing. 

I went to bed hydrated and stretched out and not quite ready to get back to work on Monday (oh, Holiday Weekends, why are you so short?). 

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And finally, the holiday weekend had drawn to a close... and Monday found me running around like a crazy person trying to do all the errands and such that I hadn't done for the last 3-4 days. 

My Workout consisted of carrying laundry bags and walking back and forth in the office. But hey, sometimes, life happens. 

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Thankfully, I crawled out of bed for Tuesday morning CrossFit today. SO. DAMN. EARLY. 

It's getting more challenging, as the winter gets darker and colder... but this winter, I've built in an accountability system - Stacey. Stacey (who's quite a bit better at getting up early than I) was at my house at 6:03 am, waiting for me to jump in her (semi-warm) car and be carried off to CrossFit. It's pretty hard to argue with that. All I had to do was get some sneakers on and fall into the car. 

Today's WOD looked like this:

We did some time doing skill work on Double Unders. I tied my previous PR of ...... ONE.... double under. Yes, Blogland, ONE. But, again, I suppose that one is better than none. I just can't seem to find the rhythm to get in that allows you to get past that first glorious one. And, the concussion of my over-exuberant not-light thumping on the floor (I can't think of jumping lightly and turning quickly, at that hour of the day), started to make my leg feel a little funny. I eased up on that and decided I better save that learning curve for another day. 

Moving on, the main part of our Wod was:

- 20 Chest to bar pull ups (with a big black band, for me!) as a buy in, then:

As many rounds as possible in 7 minutes, increasing reps:

- 1 dead lift

- 1 hang clean

- 1 Overhead press

(second round is 2, 2, 2, third round is 3, 3, 3... etc.)

Wielding a 65# bar, I managed a respectable 6 complete rounds, completing the 7 dead lifts. I was finding the limiting factor to be my arms first (unhappy that we started with pull ups!), and then my ability to continually hang clean that weight. Blargh. But, the fact that I can do it at all, with a decent weight, made me happy. 

After those 7 minutes, we did a minute of Burpees Over Bar. Here's how it goes: face your bar, do a burpee, jump over bar, turn and face bar, do burpee. Repeat.  I managed a decent 13 complete burpees with a bar jump. Not too bad. 

Here's the kicker... you know how CrossFit cools down, Green Mountain Style? Yeah, we play crab walk soccer. Ever seen 6 adults trying to crab walk (crab run?) around the gym, kicking multiple balls into goals? Yeah. It's a pretty awesome way to start your morning. 

... and all before 7:15 am!

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So, I'm successfully still "on track" after holiday schedule interruptions, and I feel like I did a pretty good job of taking a different approach to an big Eating Holiday this year. My, how things have changed?

I guess when it comes down to it, it's all about making a decision to be different and keeping those goals just on your horizon - far enough away that you need to keep working to chase them, but close enough that they constantly remind you of their presence. 

We can’t plan life. All we can do is be available for it. —Lauryn Hill

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 474:

Today was the day of the All Women and One Lucky Guy Half Marathon in Newburyport, MA. I've been registered for like 6 months, had a countdown going, was training hard...... then, as you know if you've been reading along... life happened. Shin splints have me on a no-run path. ESPECIALLY not 13.1 on pavement. Yeah. Having to not run that "big" race that I'd been planning on for so long, having to be sidelined while so many of my friends were running races today, and generally feeling completely incapacitated without my legs, left me in something much less than a Good Mood.

In fact, in all honesty, I was downright mopey.

I was working on some projects around my house (because it was a beautiful day and I couldn't be out running or anything...), sighing and stomping around like a 5 year old. I was unsatisfied with everything. My breakfast didn't taste good. The floor was cold. I rearranged stuff I was organizing like 12 times. I was in a state of complete dissatisfaction, as a result of frustration factor that had taken over my brain.

It was a weird feeling, because on the opposite side of it, I was SO excited - particularly for my running buddy, Stacey, running her FIRST half mary - to keep up on how everyone was doing... and yet, wanted to tune it all out, pout and pretend I wasn't missing anything.

Now, yes, I know (intellectually) that not being able to use my legs for activities like I am accustomed to is not the end of the world. It just means I can't run, lunge, walk, etc. It does not mean this is not a GREAT time to focus on my nutrition, work on my upper body, strengthen my core... you get the drift. I KNOW this. Most days, this is my positive thought process more than anything; a problem solving outlook. But today, thanks to the face that it should've been an adrenaline charged "Race Weekend"... and it wasn't... I was not in the greatest head space.

So, I did what comes naturally - I reached out to my community of supporters and posted my whining on FaceBook. There, after a plethora of positive bitch-slaps and motivational words, a challenge rose to the surface from a fellow Spartan, Susan:
"I know... While ambling around your house WEAR ALL THE MEDALS YOU HAVE EARNED since you started your journey... That should add significantly to your workout and help you focus on all you have done and not what you are " missing" ! Okay, Super Woman? Go!"

Fine. Challenge Accepted.

... and it was exactly what I needed today. I donned ALL the bling I've earned this year and posted for a sassy pic with my pull up bar (I'd already instituted a rule for myself today; every negative thought train will be derailed by 10 pull ups.).

The exercise, while it made me laugh at the silliness of it (ever vacuumed wearing all your bling? It's noisy. hehe), really turned my mood around. Not only was it a REALLY tangible reminder of all the things I HAVE accomplished this year (and these were only the ones I have medals for!), but it took the focus off the fact there are things I can't do right now. To paraphrase another comment I got - I've had a very full season, I've earned this "down" time.

Also, I spent a little time wearing my medals and thinking about what each one represented. So here they all are, with my favorite stand-out memory:

1. Zombie Run 5K: Spending an awesome Saturday morning getting my mud on, running from Zombies with my Best Friend Forever and Ever, at his FIRST mud run, which also happened to be his birthday!
2. Spartan Race Trifecta: This one is a little more abstract, but represented this year, the best of all. While the Spartan Shape-Up rages ever on (did someone say Ultra Beast next year...?), putting this around my neck, at home alone, after receiving it in the mail, made me tear up, as I really felt like -just then- I had become a Spartan version of former self. 
3. Spartan Race World Championships: The Beast: While there were MANY memorable moments in this 14 mile, multiple mountain crusade, nothing beats the last one. Coming down the last stretch, cold, muddy, sore, totally exhausted, with   a great friend, Spartan Chick Jess, and seeing a cheering mass of support for ME, was indescribable. My family and several friends had waited LONG after my expected arrival time, in the darkness, afraid to wander too far, lest they miss my arrival. 
4. New Jersey (Tri-State) Super: Conquering this "mini-beast" with training buddy, Stacey, and sliding into the finish line to receive our medals (right after getting my favorite race picture to date, taken!), as the festival and race was shutting down around us, thanks to an imminent severe thunderstorm. (Also, no small awesome: I conquered the monkey bars, for the first time in a race, EVER.)
5. Pennsylvania (Mid-Atlantic) Sprint: Getting to run this one with long-distance Spartan Chick Friend, Adriane. Thanks to the Spartan Chicked forum, we've been friends, at a similar point in our fitness progress, for about a year now. PA Sprint was the first time we got to meet, and we DOMINATED her first Spartan Race ever. 
6. Mont-Tremblant ("Montreal") Super: This was my first "international" Spartan... which I ended up doing quite by accident. I wasn't planning on doing the Super, I had come up to volunteer and run the Sprint the next day (I wasn't ready for a SUPER?!.... was I?). But I got talked into running it 20 minutes before I hit the start line. Best Memory: Standing waist-deep in a cold lake, cooling off the legs, after traversing many miles of Canadian Mountains. 
7. Mont-Tremblant ("Montreal") Sprint: Crossing the finish line of my second Spartan Race in ONE weekend (who knew I had it in me!?) and getting to turn around and watch my crazy-training buddy, Stacey, cross the line of her first Spartan Race, beaming and muddy. Also, Canada, your slightly electrified barbed-wire crawl, over ICE CUBES, was an inventive touch...
8. Tuxedo, New York (Tri-State, NY) Sprint: I had a raging good time running this race with my Spartan "Guru Trainer" (GT), Chris. Highlights of this race? Who doesn't love the World's Longest and Rockiest Barbed-Wire crawl EVER? I STILL have scars on my elbows from those badges of honor. 
9. Hurricane Heat 013 (Tuxedo, NY): An experience like no other (incidentally, where I met one of my favorite Spartans, on team No Quit!, Sam!), burpees at 6:30 in the morning in the pouring rain, hearing Tommy tell us to bear crawl DOWN the hill... then carry TWO sandbags up it... but basically, a Hurricane Heat can not be explained. You had to be there. I was. I earned my dog tags.
10. Colorado Military Sprint: From this, my first ever Spartan Race, so many memories emerged. From the infamous epic Fire-Jump picture, where I think I officially left the old Aja behind and came out Aja 2.0, to getting hosed off in the middle of the steamy Colorado desert by a random lady with a garden hose, to sitting almost-paralyzed with fear at the top of an obstacle and getting talked down by Spartan Sara and a Marine.  Oh, and lest we forget, the most notorious Spartan barbed-wire crawl to date. Through clay mud. With an M-16. In three sections...totaling an incomprehensible distance. 
11. Santa 5K: This is the first medal I ever earned. Although I do remember it as the first race I ever ran alone - no buddies, no cheering section - I had 5K to realize that I was doing it for ME. I didn't need buddies. I had my sneakers and a road in front of me. My favorite moment was, thanks to Spartan Training, chugging up the substantial hill - still running! - past most of the other runners, who'd dropped to a walk. And hey... I was mandated to run in a SANTA SUIT (which I recall being hot as HELL.), who doesn't love THAT. 

So there you have it BlogLand. My 11 medals and memories that picked me up from an ugly mindset today. There's been so many other races in between and in the future.... but there was something very solid and grounding about having all that hardware around my neck today. 

Tomorrow, we hit up the X-ray to check on these Shin Splints (say No to Stress Fractures?!), so I can be on to earning my next medal - and mountain of awesome memories - at Fenway Park!!!

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." ~ Benjamin Franklin

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 472:

BIG NEWS today, BlogLand!

I've officially been accepted as the newest contributor to the world's first magazine dedicated solely to the sport of Obstacle Racing: Obstacle Racing Magazine !!

(Or find them on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/obstacleracemag)

You can check out the official announcement HERE.

I am SO excited. What many of you don't know is that other than getting muddy, whining about trying to eat healthy, and sweating through crazy workouts, one of my greatest loves is writing. I am thrilled to have the opportunity to combine those two areas of my life into one big fabulous project.

Also, where I started this little 'ol Blog here at WhataBeautifulWreck.com initially for my own accountability, it certainly has seemed to morph into something much bigger than that. So many of you have related to the struggles and triumphs that I've had and shared your own stories, speedbumps, victories and goals with me. I can't TELL you how invaluable this has been. I think would would all agree here when I say that it is extremely helpful to know that you are not alone in the journey that you're on, especially on those mornings when it seems to cold for a run, or your office potluck is threatening to completely derail your eating plan.

By joining Obstacle Racing Magazine, I'll be on hand to provide the perspective of a non-elite althlete in the Obstacle Racing World. You don't have to be able to run 50 miles, you don't need to be able to lift cars, you may still be carrying a spare tire around the middle, and yeah, many of us can't get up those damn rope climbs. HOWEVER, you can still get to that starting line, then bound across the finish line muddy and smiling to accept your medal. No excuses. I'll be on hand to provide that viewpoint and hopefully help inform the world that OCR's are for anybody that has the desire to attempt them and do a little work.

SO... BlogLand, here's what you do. Go to Obstacle Racing Magazine's FaceBook page: Like them. Hit up their website and sign up for the first, FREE, electronic issue (don't worry, they're looking into putting it in print, because we know you all like to read it that way, too). AND, if there's anything that you're dying to hear about, something you want discussed, or a piece you'd really like to see written, don't hesitate to send it on my way.

"Even if you are on the right track, you'll get run over if you just sit there." - Will Rogers

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 413:

Oh Blogland! I'm BACK. I finally feel BACK. After hitting up CrossFit last week, I was blessed with some multi-day stiff/sore/muscle fatigue, which served as a real re-motivator. I forgot how good it felt to really get down to business. I've been getting in my scheduled runs, following the plan, eating pretty well and am gearing up for my big races of the year.

Speaking of races, this weekend I did something I would've never thought of a year ago. I popped out of bed early on a Saturday morning - voluntarily - to go out and run a local 5K race. Just for fun. No stress. I mean, really, it was called the Flying Pig 5K (in honor of a local bank mascot)... how could you be stressed about that? But the funny thing was, a 5K race has become such a non-issue. I don't prep special for them (5K is a short run for me these days), I'm not stressed that morning, and I have a really good idea what to expect from my body during them. What a complete 180 degree turn around from when I ran my first 5K just about a year ago.

The morning was sunny, I had some of my favorite race buddies warming up with me and toeing the starting line, and the course promised to be flat and fast. I was hoping that this would be the time that I hit my sub 30 minute 5K race time. I was slightly concerned about how my still-healing ankle would react to the all-road race, but I'm feeling good, running regularly and was here to throw it all out there. I mean, really, what else would I be doing on a Saturday morning? SLEEPING?! Sorry people, I had a finish line to chase.

It was really interesting, this was the first road race that I'd actually had time to have an adequate warm-up for. We had time to run a mile and get our legs going, do some stretching, and feel good when the starting mark went off. If ever I was going to run a great race, this had to be it. I was a little disappointed when I realized that this was not a chip-timed race. You see, a gun timed race means everyone gets the same starting time.... whether you start in the front of the pack and actually cross the starting line at that time, or if you're in the back of the pack starting 30 seconds later. I won't lie, I was running this one for time, so I muscled my way up toward the front.... right behind the boys high school cross country team. I may be running for time, but I knew I wouldn't be running the single digit mile times that those young 'uns would be hitting (... not THIS year, anyway... ;-) ).

The race began and I felt strong as our starting stretch lead us up the only real hill of the whole course. I powered up this with Spartan legs, at a regular rhythm, passing a lot of people. Never underestimate the power of practicing hills. Interestingly, I ran along sign my doctor (?!) for a few minutes... Who happens to be 60+ and does Triathlons with her husband. She was geared out in Gaspari Nutrition Spandex, looking really professional.... and then proceeded to steadily pass the masses on that hill. I HOPE I am that awesome at that point in my life. Talk about Chicking!

After that hill, my race buddies and I had drifted to our natural paces to run our own race. If you only ever learn one thing from my ramblings, BlogLand, it is to run your own race. You have to run to your plan, capabilities and capacity - not to try and keep up with the horde, or that damn blond girl slightly in front of you that you just can't seem to pass....

I was trucking along at a good pace, keeping (faster!) April in my eye sight. I was using her as a visual gauge of my speed, as I know she would finish in 29 minutes or so... therefore, all I needed to do was not lose her, come in slightly slower and I'd be right on target. About a third of the way through the race, we turned to the mental challenge of this tiny race: The out and back. A vast majority of this race was this out and back stretch on a road, in the full sun, at about 1130am.

I hate, hate, hate the heat BlogLand. I wanted to walk. Sweat was pouring off of me, my muscles were feeling "tired". I say "tired", because I know that they're not tired 1.5 miles in... they're just wanting me to think they are, so we could stop running in the heat. I ran on. I won't lie, as much as I was running my own race and taking my own advice, there was a lady in a flying pig hat just in front of me that I was determined not to let beat me. Thank god for her, as I'm pretty sure that competitive motivation was all that kept me moving through that sunny stretch of death.

I admit, here, BlogLand... I know where I made a mistake. As I hit the water station, just before the last mile, I dropped out of my run to grab a water, sip it and throw it on myself. While I kept walking at a good clip, this effects your time and was, in reality, unnecessary for a 5K. Nonetheless, it was how I was going to keep my sanity.

I reminded myself that I was almost at the end, rallied my thoughts toward my single-focus of a time goal and tried to get my feet turning over faster. Rounding the last stretch, I saw the crowd of people eagerly awaiting "their" runner, clapping and yelling general  encouragement in the meantime, and I put on the best effort I could for them. This resulted in a neck and neck finish line Chicking, where I busted past this guy at the last minute.... eliciting a sarcastic chuckle and mumble from the dude I passed. He was apparently not impressed. However, WTF? We're running for time, and neither one of us was in contention for top three placing... soo...? What's the big deal. Geesh.

Hitting the finish line, running for all my over heated body was worth, my eyes reflexively darted for the clock... 31 and change. DAMN. My goal had been clear. I wanted to do a 30 minute, or just under, 5K.... today was not the day.

As I came out of the shoot and cracked my water bottle, I let myself have that moment of disappointment. I didn't hit my goal. I came SO CLOSE. I let myself have that moment of replaying the things I could've done better, where I might improve, and what I was going to do next time.

And then, with a conscious effort, I closed that door. Why? Because, BlogLand, there is no reason to let that negativity stay. Yes, I was unhappy with not meeting my goal - that's what keeps driving me to the next one and to be better for the next finish line - but it's not the be all and end all.

The thought I decided to latch on to was that almost one year earlier, I had set my baseline for 5K races at a time of just barely under 35 minutes, after running only a short 100 days in my whole life. Today, I had cruised through a 5K race, a fun, non-stressful Saturday morning activity for me now, on a still-healing ankle, in a time close to 4 minutes faster...... and could've kept running a much longer distance!

uhm. WIN.

I WIN.

THAT is the thought process I intend to let seep into my brain. The one that reminds me that I'm not there YET, but I'm a hell of a lot farther than I was, and every day I get a little bit closer. There are an infinite number of finish lines I will still cross, and PR's to set and beat, but I am proud of myself for having the courage to get up and get to the start line.

After this little weekend mental victory, I did my training runs this week - managed a solid 4.5 mile run without any pain in the ankle. This is a great sign, because this weekend is a monster...

Tomorrow, right after work, I leave for NJ to tackle the Spartan Tri-State Super.... coming in at right around 10 miles of hilly terrain, rumored to include a 25 foot cliff jump, obstacles we've never seen before and a whole lot of mud.

There will be many of my favorite Spartans out on the course with me on Saturday, which I'm really excited about (find me! Pictures!). I'm a little nervous, as this is looking like this is going to be one grueling course.... but I'm not afraid. I'm pretty prepared physically (there's always room for improvement...), I've got a great hydration/fuel plan, intending to KT Tape my ankle just for safety, and what else is there? I'll have an awesome buddy running right by my side (Hey Stace!) and between the two of us, this course doesn't stand a chance.

Bring on the cliff!!!!

Not failure, but low aim, is crime. - James Russell Lowell

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 332 & 333:

I've missed you, BlogLand! It's been almost a week!! What have I been up to? Well.... not a lot. Frustratingly so. Whatever leg muscle (I still can't establish if it's my calf or my hamstring) that I made angry last weekend, that is causing this pulling sensation in the back of my knee just will not chill out. Sprints on Tuesday night, even with a really long warm up, were a decided No-Go. I've been taking frequent/long walks to stretch it out, foam rolling, stretching, hydrating, Ibuprofen, ice... the whole works. It gets a little better... but I'm still not back 100%. W.T.F.

So, because I've been so frustrated, I won't lie, my thought processes have been a bit unpleasant. Usually, I would blog them out for you all to follow along with (and know that you're not the only one who gets ugly when the going gets tough!), but my head was getting so frazzled with it that I just didn't want to blog. Blogging makes me think about my experiences, which is generally good, but I didn't think spending the last 7 days blogging endlessly about how I still wasn't able to run/train back to 100% was going to be a good mental exercise.

Basically, I have some imminent goals for myself, like by my 30th birthday (19 days), get under 200#... which will be approximately 7-8 more pounds of weight loss. And I've been really struggling with losing the weight. Thus, not being able to WOD like I would usually had me in a panic. I freaked out about probably not meeting that goal... which then had me freak out about the fact that I probably wouldn't be doing my One Pullup on my birthday like I'd hoped, and then I started questioning every goal I had - completing the Beast, doing these half marathons.... maybe I was aiming too lofty... yadda yadda yadda.

Thankfully, during one of these freak outs one morning on my way to work, while my knee stiffened and ached in the car, I had texted my GT (who is the patient sounding board for many of these kinds of freak outs...), and lost my mind a little bit, as per usual. Worrying about not making my goals, not losing weight and getting stuck in this stagnant "place I was in."
His response: "This place you're in?? You just ran and Super and a Sprint in the same weekend!"

Ah. Hmm. Reality Check received.

Sometimes, BlogLand, I (like many of you, I'm sure), get so focused on the ONE TREE in front of me. The all consuming one tree (immediate goal, upcoming race, etc.), that I completely forget the forest of accomplishments and victories. I did just finish a Super and a Sprint in one weekend. That's 14+ miles of running, mud and obstacles. TWO medals. And I felt okay, minus a tight muscle. Well. Go figure. haha

So, in the meantime, the GT gave me a task. MORE WATER. My official goal was 100 oz/day. I won't lie, I Googled this amount to verify (I'm sorry. You're always right, GT. I don't know why I continue to question!), because it seemed like SO much water. But, even Google agreed. A person of my height and weight and activity level should be at 90-100 oz of water a day. 3 liters. 3 big Nalgene bottles. Ohhhhh my. And here I was thinking I was "hydrated" and drinking a lot of water.

Nonetheless, I've been doing it. I bought a bigger water bottle for work, and have told my self that I will drink two of them during the work day. Little, achievable goals.

However, I HAVE had some positive things happen in the last few days, despite the leg-stupid.

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 332:
The Chicken Farmer 5K!

So, one of my most favorite Spartan Chicks, Peyton (who can't love the person who gave you your first tire?) had invited me to come do this small, local 5K that a friend of hers was running.
It has a really entertaining legend around the name, and seemed like it would be a low-key good time. (Weird. When did running a 5K on a Saturday morning become a low key good time?)

My leg felt okay. A little stiff getting up in the morning, but it seemed to warm up during walks or exercise, so I was determined to give this 5K a go. I couldn't be benched forever, I'd just work through it slowly, if I needed to. Peyton and I lined up at the very "official" starting line (the race official pointing his toe at a spot on the road. lol), and waited for the gun to go off. We were in the first 2 rows of people, as we wanted the most accurate time (it was being timed from gun time, not a super-accurate chip time).

In previous races, I spend some time trying to keep up with Peyton, then struggling to at least keep her in my sights... then losing her completely. Damn fast bitch, that one. (hehe) This race, however, I was able to mark my progress a bit. I was right with Peyton for the first part of the race, and at mile 1 she informed me we were running an 8:30 mile. HOLY crapola, BlogLand. I feared that I was going to burn out at that pace, but I was still feeling okay, despite the blazing sun... so... I kept pushing. Don't. Lose. Peyton, I kept telling myself.

Then, we entered the portion of the race that it billed as "gentle rolling hills." BIG. LIE. What that means is yeah, you'll have a downhill, right after you blow out your legs running up the steep side of it. Alright, slight exaggeration, but these hills were nothing to be sneezed at, and they were the WHOLE course. Up, down. Up. Down. I was suddenly very grateful I run around in Vermont. I found myself passing a lot of people, and maintaining my time, on the hills. It's all about just keeping a steady rhythm. Left-right, left-right until you're at the top... at which point you remind yourself that your lungs will not explode, they just feel like they're going to, and your legs will not fall off, you just want them to. Keep running.

I was still with Peyton! (alright, slightly behind her... but only by a few feet!) Although, I was starting to feel the heat, after the first big  hill. This was a straight on-pavement road race, and there was not a cloud in the sky. I admit, I did have to take a couple of walk breaks - just for short intervals, just to catch my breath and regroup (the heat is challenging for me). But I wasn't giving up. This might be my shot at my sub-30 minute 5K. And I was right on Peyton's tail. I was ON TRACK.

I wanted to die on the last hill. It was hot. As I ran up the incline, I could feel my knee thing pulling uncomfortably. Sweat was running into my eye. Embrace the Suck, I told myself. This is where the victory would be decided. Up the hill I went, determined face on. Cresting the hill, I heard people shouting that we were almost to the end, so I poured out whatever energy I could find in my legs, and set my sight on catching Peyton - who had gained a bit of a lead, at this point.

I roared around the corner with the clock and glancing up I saw 31 min and change. In disbelief, I looked back at it. HOW could that BE? I was cruising this whole race!! I could feel it!!!

Well, long story short, several GPS trackers confirmed that our course was over a standard 5K length. By 2-3 tenths of a mile. Since I came in only one person behind Peyton, we're using her GPS as OUR official marker - which indicated that this would've been the first 5K that I've done in LESS than 30 minutes, with average mile times of well under 10 minute miles.

.... but there is No Official Record. *sigh*

But I know. I did it. I did something that I never thought I'd be able to do. I am not a runner. .... but I guess, since I run several times a week, own shoes designed for running that cost more than $30, and can actually run several miles (WITH HILLS!!) at less than 10 minute miles... perhaps I better start changing that thought process. I am not a born runner.... but maybe I've made myself one.

Incidentally. I have to comment. The Chicken Farmer 5K had the best mascot I've ever seen. The guy that was the giant chicken was having so effing much fun that it was impossible to not have a good time. He was high-fiving, smiling, pep-talking... the whole works - despite it probably being 50 million degrees in that suit. He even jumped in the lake at the end, with a trail of children behind him. Well done, Giant Chicken Guy.
Oo! And some pictures!

Peyton, Giant Chicken, Me!

The Giant Chicken Swims!

The t-shirts are the brightest things
I've ever seen. Seriously,
the picture doesn't do it justice.
I swear, it glows.

This may be my favorite picture of the summer, thus far. Post-race, my feet were hot and my knee was feeling angry, so I decided to wade into the beachy area with some of the kids. (and no, I didn't think twice about going in up past my pants. Thanks, Spartan Race! I have complete disregard for what I'm wearing now. LOL.) So, I'm icing my legs, and Sara decides that I should strike a pose. Joking around (sporting my Spartan Tee!), I strike this one, looking appropriately post-race badass, as anyone can be when they're standing in a like. Then along came the duck. Who really wanted to be in the picture. It made me laugh.... a lot. I'm not sure if the duck ADDs to the feeling of badassery, or detracts. I almost look like I'm standing there completely miffed that the duck is in my lake. LOL.

Anyway, Good Times were had by all, and you can bet your chicken feathers I'll be back next year. :-)

Today was Spartan Shape-Up, Day 333:

My knee was back to being weird again, so I took a swim early this afternoon for about 30-40 minutes to try and stretch it all out and make it feel better. It definitely helped, at least temporarily.

Stacey and I decided that since it was a lovely sunny Sunday, we should also go tackle a local park of ours that's full of beautiful trails and supposedly a "fitness trail" with stations to complete.

The stations left a lot to be desired, as did my complete lack of sense of direction while trying to follow the crudely-drawn maps... However, we had a fabulous time running all around trying to locate all the stations, and decipher what we were supposed to do. Nothing really fabulous, but I did discover that there IS a set of adult-sized monkey bars to practice on!! Woot! I got across them twice today, without falling... of course, theses are dry and not muddy, like they always are at the races. But I figure, if I can practice on them, I'll only get better! Before the season is out, I'm determined to conquer them at a race. AROO.
Also, the trail did have a set of parallel bars that was an interesting challenge. I was able to walk myself on my t-rex arms ALMOST halfway across them. I couldn't quite make my halfway goal and my arms were all done.... but, I see some practice in my future... HMm.

All in all, an hour or so running around in the woods, on a low-key Sunday, you can't go wrong. I think for future expeditions, I'll skip trying to follow the fitness trail and just run around the trails... but Monkey Bars, watch out. I'm coming back for you.

With that, I leave you all, it is well past my bedtime, and CrossFit always seems to come OH so early.............

"You must do the thing you think you can not do..."

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 325 & 326:

It was an International Spartan Weekend, Blogland, as I packed up the car and headed to Canada (eh!) for a weekend of racing. It had been a bumpy week in my life-outside-of-training and I won't lie, I was really looking forward to a Spartan excursion. To add to the awesomeness, I was taking with me my Up-the-hill running buddy, Stacey (who would be completing her first Spartan Sprint) and Yvette, a Spartan Chick I hadn't met yet!

We rolled into our hotel about 11:30pm and headed to bed. Saturday, the plan was that we'd be volunteering all day, Yvette would be running the Super, and on Sunday, we'd all be tackling the Sprint. It had crossed my mind to do a Super here in Canada (eh!), but I wasn't planning on it, because I didn't want to do my first Super alone (and I didn't know Yvette was joining us until the night before we left!). However, because I'm a prepared sort of Spartan, I had packed extra race clothes, etc. as you just never know...

Yvette had spent most of the drive up informing me that I should do the Super with her. I was worried. I wasn't entirely sure I was Super-ready, but maaaaybe... when asked what his thought was on me doing the Super on Saturday, the GT simply responded: "Yep. There was no question." Hmm. It appeared I (or my fear) was being outvoted.

We headed to the race site for our volunteer morning. It was a warm day (75+?) but absolutely gorgeous. I dutifully nodded through the volunteer briefing in French and got the Cliff Notes version later on in English (it is always humbling to go somewhere where you don't understand the language!), to learn that my little trio (as well as Tracy, another Vermonter we found!) would be manning the Spear throw that morning.

Anyone who's ever raced a Spartan knows just exactly how much people love the Spear Throw. In other words, they don't. At all. Why? Well, in general, it is a 1 in 10 success rate to throw that (not always straight or aerodynamic) "spear" and make it stick in the target. If not, the penalty is 30 burpees... and everyone LOVES burpees. So, as you can imagine, I spent the morning doing a lot of encouraging cheering, issuing of burpees and generally baking in the sun.

... When suddenly it was 1pm and the relief crew came around and asked if we wanted to race. Did I want to race?! a Super?! AHH!! I don't Knooowww.... (*insert Inner Fat Chick Freak Out*)

... and then next thing I knew, I was standing in the Starting Gate, timing chip attached to my shoe, geared out in my "extra" race stuff. You know, the ones I brought "just in case."

Canadian Spartans (eh!), like any other Spartan, start their race by getting the racers pumped up and ready to charge. Epic music and three Aroo!'s, and we were released onto the course, streaming out over the immediate fire jump like crazed ants.

Yvette and I settled into an easy run, letting the particularly exuberant racers careen ahead of us, as we were cognizant of the fact that we had a solid 8-10ish miles ahead of us. Pacing was going to be particularly important. I briefly thought about the fact that we hadn't had a chance to fuel and prep for this, like I would've liked to. We had eaten a decent breakfast, but from standing in the sun all morning, we certainly weren't as hydrated as I would've chosen, and "lunch" had been a Clif bar about 20 minutes before our heat went off. Ah well. Nothing to do about it now except go forward!

We turned off the pleasant gravel trail and into the wooded single-track trail... and Canada (eh!) showed us how they do it differently than the American Spartans. We went straight up the mountain. Down the mountain. Around the mountain. Back up the mountain. More up the mountain. Running was really limited, as much of the "flat" or "down" parts were crazy dangerous mud slicks... Or they were lose-your-shoe mud pits that you had to pick your way slowly through or around with the aid of mossy patches and fallen trees. We spent a lot of time in the "determined march" pace, passing those less accustomed to hills (Yay living in VT!), or with less endurance, who had succombed to the "Death Trudge" (The "Death Trudge" is that slow, but still moving forward gait where you're panting, you want to die, but know you need to keep moving...).

There were no "obstacles". Just you and the mountain for MILES.

It went on forever. It was frustrating to get to be able to half-run for 10 steps, then have to navigate a slick rock slope, then half trot up an incline, then completely stop to figure out a safe (ish) way down a mud slick... I will not lie, there are points where I doubted if taking my butt through a Super at this point in my training was an excellent plan.

Finally, drenched in sweat and totally parched, we emerged from the mountain to see our first official obstacle: the "Weight Wheel". This was a big dowel that you had to hold up between your two hands, and using your hand/forearm/arm strength, roll up a rope that had a (light) sandbag at the bottom. Yvette and I made short work of this, hopped over a 5ft wall, and headed over to the sandbag carry (where an amazing volunteer found us some water!). We loaded up our sandbags and zig zagged through a flat, twisty path. A pretty short one. It seems that every sandbag carry I've seen in the US involves a large hill, or a great distance. We blew through this obstacle and.... *sigh*... headed back into the woods for some more single-track slippery trail blazing.

Every once and a while we'd see daylight through the trees and pop back out on the wide gravel trail where we tackled maybe three more well-spaced obstacles (a light log overhead press - only 10 times, a tire hop through and a short rock carry), then BACK into the woods and up the muddy mountain.

Finally, after completing the majority of our distance that way, (MILES people, MILES of this!) we came out to the last 3/4 of a mile or so, where 90% of the obstacles were located. (My guess is, based on the fact that this seemed to be a wildlife/hiking area, SR was restricted on where they could locate obstacles...) It was 20 burpees for me at the narrow rope ladder (the female version of the rope climb), 30 more for me at the spear throw (which was pretty hard task, after 8 ish miles of mountain running!), then I was home free, burpee wise.

I was pretty damn tired at this point though, as we approached the obstacles. I was acutely aware of how much fueling and appropriate nutrition can play into your success over these greater distances (I would've sold my soul for a cheeseburger at this point, not that that would be "appropriate" fueling...). Nonetheless, we were ALMOST at the finish line of my first Super and tired or not, I *would* be earning my blue medal.

We owned a few of the usual Spartan obstacles - cargo nets, vertical wall, tunnel crawls. With a primal scream of exertion I got myself over the crest of the slippery wall (dry and not soaped like the US Spartans - just covered in plastic), with one final solid arm pull and 10 seconds of determination (never underestimate the primal scream. It CAN get you there.). After that, just a quick sprint to the finish line, before getting my (well-earned!) blue medal bestowed upon me.

I do need to touch upon one particular obstacle. Or genre of obstacle. Apparently, Canadian (eh!) Spartans are extremely fond of their barbed wire crawls. First, we did one real long muddy one in the middle of the woods (my elbows and knees still aren't happy with me from the NY Sprint... they were not impressed with this), where you could not roll. Then, there was Barbed Wire Part 2, where you were able to roll a little bit. Finally (oh yes, there's more!), we hit the zappy barbed wire. Just when I was beginning to underestimate the Canadians (eh!), they pulled this one out at the end of the course: a short crawl (maybe...20 feet?), but through a thick layer of those round ice cubes, under barbed wire. OH, and some of the barbed wire was electrified. This was not tall enough or wide enough to roll under. This was a straight up low crawl from Hell. Why from Hell? Well, after 8.5 miles of craziness, I was tired. Slithering through the ice wasn't bad on a hot day, but staying that low, trying to gingerly use my elbows was a little tricky. ALSO, there was that guy, who's sole job seemed to be to throw a shovel full of ice cubes on your back/butt if you stopped moving. Niiice. Oh yeah, and occasionally, if you weren't careful, you got a little zap (but, FYI, these were nothing major. Like a cow/horse fence. I actually held onto one of the wires that got stuck in my overly perky pony tail, getting zapped while I got it out, and am alive to tell the tale!).

My favorite obstacle of the day was the "Wobbly Bridge." This was a series of floating barrels for you to traverse as you saw fit, but that ended halfway through a small pond. Either way (barrel traverse or not), you were going for a swim. I have never been so excited to get unceremoniously dumped into brisk water. It was, again, toward the end of the course and we had been running and traversing the mountain, etc. for over 7 miles at this point, I'm guessing. You're hot. Muddy. Tired. Getting submerged into cool water works absolute MIRACLES, as far as refreshing your body and getting you through your last push. (I experienced a similar sensation at the Colorado Military Sprint, when we crawl/swam through the deep covered trenches!).

Overall, Canadian (eh!) Spartans, you did not fail to challenge me on this Super course, despite the fact it was much different than I anticipated. I was not a huge fan of the fact that virtually all the obstacles were clustered at the end (we ran miles and miles without hitting an obstacle), and the official obstacles were a little less challenging than I anticipated. They certainly had their moments (those barbed wire crawls got ugly and the ever-present rope climb remains my nemesis), but it felt a little simpler than even some of the obstacles I had encountered at previous Sprints. There was only one short wall (not a series to go over), and likewise only one tall wall. The weights on a lot of them (Hercules hoist and weight wheel) seemed light, or the reps low (we only had to do the weight wheel one time, and only 10 log presses?). Also, there was no standard 30 burpee penalty. Sometimes it was thirty... sometimes it was 20. There was not a single mud pit (I came out of this race relatively clean, other than the barbed wire crawls).

However, I'm willing to concede that perhaps the obstacles had to be a little different due to the site restrictions, etc. Where I may have felt that the Canadians (eh!) may have lacked a little bit in the obstacles, they certainly made up for it in one BIG obstacle: The damn Mountain (maybe that was the intent!). Going for miles upon miles on this treacherous, slippery trail was as much a mental obstacle as anything. It seemed like it would never end. I questioned whether my calves would seize up completely from the hill climbing. I wasn't sure I'd ever been so thirsty in my life. This obstacle (and long stretches of it!) forced you to SPARTAN UP more than any other I encountered.

As I trotted through the finish line of the Super, though, I was surprised at one thing: No sponsored beverages (I swear to you, other than a cheeseburger, all I wanted at this point was the stupid half of a banana and a cold coconut water) in tiny cups. Nothing. There was water, but you had to wait in line at these big barrels. No free banana. No coconut water. Hmm. Honestly, this is where I found the weak spot in the Canadian (eh!) races; it seems that they are a newer, "young" offshoot of SR and may not entirely have the organization down. It was TORTURE to have to run by several abandoned (noted only by the 4 million empty water bottles) aid stations, while we were thirsty like crazy. It was a bit frustrating to know that they did not plan accordingly and offer the same aid to the racers running later in the day. Handing water bottles to people seemed inefficient on the course, in my opinion. They don't go as far as a big jug of water and often they are left half full and abandoned on the side of the course.

Back of shirt;
 Front is usual SR graphic

However, Yvette and I had prevailed against the lack of hydration and the mountain and crossed the finish line to earn our medals - as well as our free t-shirt. Dear Canadian (eh!) Spartans, you won me back on this one! While I adore getting the race shirts, commemorating what I've done, it would be great to get ones that are non-cotton, so they could be more functional in an active lifestyle. The Canadians (eh!) apparently jumped on board this train and passed out some great tech t-shirts, with a front and back design. Extra points for Canada (eh!).

Canada (eh!) also didn't seem to have "showers", but they did provide a pleasantly cold lake to submerge yourself in. While it may not have gotten you as "clean" as the usual hose power-wash, it was a really nice feature. Your muscles will thank you for those few moments of cold weightlessness.... ahhhhh....

After clocking in around 9 rugged miles, Yvette and I spent the afternoon eating and rehydrating (Subway never tasted so good). Followed by the best hot shower ever, and an evening of stretching. I found that all sorts of weird muscles in my hips/legs were stiff from all the weird sideways sliding and uneven stability work. I stretched. I stretched some more. I groaned.

While Stacey puttered around our room, working out some night-before race energy, I found myself falling asleep quite easily (imagine that.).
-----------------------------------------------
Race Morning #2 dawned on another beautiful day. I rolled over and stretched, assessing the damage of yesterday's crazy good time. Overall, feeling pretty good. Standing up, something in my left leg (hamstring? Calf?) was causing a little bit of a troublesome pulling behind my knee, but nothing I didn't think I could work out and get through.

Today, we were well fueled, well rested and well hydrated as we drove up Mont Tremblant to tackle their Sprint course. Stacey was stoked to attack her first Spartan and the enthusiasm was catchy. How could it NOT be a raging good time (even if I did have a little bit of a ouchy situation in my leg)? In the few minutes penned in the starting gate before the race, we exchanged some tips to our first timer (do NOT let the fast people rush you!!!), and I stretched out my leg tightness as much as possible and hoped for the best.

And we were off! Not too far down the first stretch of gravel path, I was jogging through the masses of people, trying to find a decent pace with Stacey in tow, when suddenly I heard my name from behind. Whipping around (confused!) I saw none other than the infamous Spartan Chick, Leyla! She waved me on, as she was walking with her (incredible!) Mother, but it was really nice to know that the Chicks are looking out for you, even if you've never met!

The Sprint course was almost identical to the Super course, except shorter. Basically, it seemed like they just cut out some of the longer, grueling mountain loops. We still had the majority of the beginning of our race through the slippy mountain paths of death, only popping out to do obstacles (mostly) at the very end of the race.

I have to take this moment to comment on my badass friend, Stacey. Her first race, and she attacked this one like it was her job. Despite the fact that she's relatively new to running, she marched herself up and down that mountain with a face of determination. Without hesitation she dived under that long, muddy barbed wire crawl, never looking back. She did her burpee penalties (eff you spear throw!!) diligently without complaints.  SO proud of her.

My favorite moment of the day, after we crossed the finish, in epic gladiator-beating style (I am happy to say that the Canadian (eh!) Gladiators actually took some shots at me, rather than just tapping me gently, like the US ones have!), Stacey had a moment of epiphany while we lined up for water. She said simply, "You DO know at the finish line...you know all sorts of things." I couldn't have said it better myself!

Two medals in one weekend.
14+ miles. BADASS FACE.

While I have been at that light bulb moment, it is never isolated to your first Spartan Race, I'm finding. Each and every single race will teach you something new about yourself. I learned, this weekend, after 14+ total miles of mountainous, muddy terrain and obstacles that I am a lot tougher than I give myself credit for sometimes. I also learned that even when it seems impossible (My calf is cramped, and we're still going uphill! Now what?!), you can always go a little further. I was still running (albeit slowly...) at the end of BOTH my races this weekend. VICTORY.

Victory Pose, with Mount Tremblant
in the background!

As we crossed the boarder back from our International Soiree, the boarder guard was quizzing us about where we'd been. When I told him a Spartan Race, he asked me (in a very unemotional border-guard tone) if I intended to be at The Beast in Killington. Stiff and sore, but happy and accomplished, I replied, "Yep! Are you?!" Only to learn that apparently even Border Patrol is coming down to challenge themselves at The Beast! Something like 100 days left and counting... (Trifecta, I'm coming for you!)

A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions. - Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 318:

3:23 am. My alarm would go off in another 20 minutes or so and I certainly wasn't sleeping. All night, I had tossed and turned, dozing here and there and listening to the sounds of the pouring rain, while my thoughts ran circles about what was to come... It was Race Weekend, BlogLand... but also another notch in the belt of "Firsts" that I've been experiencing in the last 318 days...

I was headed to my first-ever Spartan Race Hurricane Heat this weekend. It was to have an O'Dark Thirty (5am) start time, had mandatory gear (headlamp) and was billed as a tough team-centered event, and the chance to meet/run with some of the Spartan Race Founders. I was... worried. While I have heard nothing but wonderful things about these HH's, seen the friendships built on them, I was concerned about the physicality of it. While I have made a lot of progress, I knew that the HH's were notoriously extra-challenging, as they are the creation of the Spartan Race founders, as they pull it out of their brain, at 5am. My Inner Fat chick had some serious reservations. Much like with the Marathon Relay I did last week, I was concerned at being part of a team and being able to pull my own weight - I did not want to be the person that the team had to babysit or carry through the challenges.

With a deep breath, Sara (one of my partners in crime for the weekend) and I got in the car, forcing down some breakfast along the way. During our 30 minute drive to the site, I watched the pouring rain, panicked about my clothing choices (it's really hard to know what to wear when you're going to get soaked in 3 minutes.) and reminded myself that I could do anything, if I decided I could.

A bleary-eyed volunteer directed us to the furthest reaches of the giant parking lot. A small group of Spartans were amassing, lit only by their headlamps. Time: 4:48 am. I had to jump in. Within seconds, a large, dark truck pulled up along side the group, rolled down the window and with a simple, inarguable direction, told us to  "follow my lights" and drove off. It began. Joe Desena had issued our first challenge. There was some quiet chatter as the group sloshed through giant puddles, and trekked up to the race site.

After expressing disappointment that more Spartans had not braved the rain to join us, Joe set us at Burpees. Then more Burpees. Oh, wait... there were also some Burpees. Your best continued effort was the ONLY option, as Joe was not afraid to call you out (...or issue the group more burpees, on your behalf.). A few more stretches (we weren't cold any more, I assure you), and we were tasked at making teams. Our nine-person, Team No Quit, circled up, picked a captain and steeled ourselves for the unknown that was to come.

I can't detail for you the experience that was the Hurricane Heat, BlogLand, as it is truly something you need to do for yourself, and your time on the course with your new Spartan Family will be unique, but I will try and give you a few of the memorable highlights.

After a bit of a jog, my stomach dropped. Joe had pointed the teams at our first challenge: Rope Climb. Guess what I historically am generally really unsuccessful at? I looked around at my team - all guys (Yep, I was representing the Chicks on Team No Quit!), all looking relatively in shape, and like they'd eat this rope climb for breakfast. I kinda wanted to throw up my breakfast. However, never once did I feel like a handicap to this team; I got a boost out of the water (oh yeah, why would you rope climb a dry rope, if you could climb a wet one, out of a waist-high mud puddle?), cheered on from the bottom, and helpful hints given to me along the way. My nerves were calming themselves, after this display of unity in the face of adversity.

We hit tall vertical walls that all the teams helped each other over (carrying tires...), I walked across my teammates backs (literally) to complete the monkey bars (my nemesis) and was able to return the favor as I banded with another HH'er to carry 5 sandbags (2 each, plus one between us) down a giant hill.

Hurricane Heat 013 traversed up down and around the Tuxedo Ridge ski mountain. We rolled, bear crawled and burpee'd through, around and by many of the obstacles. As the sun lit overhead and the 7am first race heat of the day was amassing, Joe called us out of the Barbed Wire crawl (which we'd done 2x, already). We got a nod of acknowledgement and were lined up facing the 7am race heat, the Start line between us. The Hurricane Heat'ers stood with their teams, muddy and wet, but smiling and ready for more. The final direction was given: The entire 7am race heat was to hug a Hurricane Heat'er (for surviving?) on their way through them, to begin their race. We laughed and cheered and dispensed muddy hugs and high fives with the First Wave. The energy in that space was so intense, you could practically feel it - adrenaline from the first wave's anticipation (for many of them, apparently, their first Spartan Race), and the happiness and triumph from the HH'ers conquering the group and personal challenges that were set before us that morning. THIS was Spartan Race. This moment of metaphorical before and afters, strong mindsets, and unconquerable determination.

Hurricane Heat 013, you'll always be my first... and certainly not my last. Team No Quit! Aroo!




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Spartan Sprint, Tuxedo, NY:

After hosing off and running back to the car refuel (2+ hours of unique challenges, up and down the ski mountain leaves you a bit hungry...), I returned to the race site to meet up with the rest of my crazy friends and figure out when I would be running my regular race for the day. Along the way, I had the pleasure of meeting another of the Spartan Chicks, Lavonah (Hi!), and exchange some tips and encouragement for her first Spartan Race.

Feeling a bit more energetic after some water and food (don't underestimate fueling, BlogLand.), I met up with the GT and the rest of the posse to plan our assault on this formidable course. Apparently, 9:30am was the plan. I was still cruising on the post-HH high, feeling re-energized by the appearance of sunshine, and ready to tackle anything in front of me.

The race itself no longer makes me nervous. Now that I've gotten one out of the way, I know what to expect in a sense, and I know that if I need help - even if I'm alone - there will always be a Spartan ready to help. With that, I found myself free to mill in the starting gate, let the waves of excitement wash over me, lose myself in the driving motivational music, accompanied by the words of an enthusiastic emcee and prepare myself for battle.

As we bellowed our third "Aroo!" we were out of the starting gates and straight up the hill. I thought a silent prayer that I live in VT and trained on hills often. Our crew slowly broke up into their different paces, and I watched Kym and Jeff (who officially have the most-fantastic barbed wire picture of this race, thus far) steadily attack the terrain and fade off into the distance. This couple are strong Spartans through and through... either that or they're bionic. I look forward to the race where I find myself keeping up with them; for now, they are one of the many inspirations that keeps me pushing forward when the hills feel long, or the walls too high.

For the remainder of the race, I found myself battling the mountain with Mies and my GT. Up and over walls, bouldering through "trails" and slip-sliding everywhere (there's nothing like torrential rains the previous day to really loosen up a course...), we pressed on at a steady pace. Personally, I found it really challenging to find my stride on this course. Admittedly, I had already been out on the course for 2 hours that morning with the HH, but I couldn't settle into a pace I was happy with. I wanted to run more, and did at times, but sliding down the hills, traversing narrow paths, or suddenly hitting a crazy steep one would interrupt the flow. I found myself doing a lot more walking in this Sprint than I anticipated... mostly because it seemed to be the only way to successfully navigate the terrain that the feet of a million Spartans before me had torn up.

We kept moving forward, encountering interesting obstacles - rabbit run style tunnel crawls, tire carries, Hercules Hoist (this is my favorite. hehe), cargo nets... you name it, we climbed it, rolled under it, moved it or otherwise completed it. The awesome thing I noted in particular about this race was the regular appearance of spectator areas. Sara (my cheering section and chauffeur for the day, due to a knee injury) kept popping up around a random corner, with other friends and family, happy to be able to see the Spartans conquering the course, rather than just seeing the finish line. Well done, Spartan Race.



There are two particular obstacles of note, for me, this time (aside from The Mountain itself!):

While winding through a narrow muddy path in the woods, my triad and I suddenly found ourselves staring at a vertical cargo net, spanning several trees. From a few feet away, it didn't look so bad. Climb up, go over, climb down the other side. No problem. As I stepped up to the net and began to climb, I suddenly noted the difficulty. The net was not affixed to anything at the bottom. That meant it moved. A lot. You'd be climbing and suddenly your feet were out in front of your body. This, BlogLand, is not a comfortable position, particularly when you're doing your best Spider Man impression and dangling from a net 12 feet off the ground.

I got to the top with no issue, then suddenly had a flash back of the moment in Colorado (on that evil log obstacle!) where I didn't know how to go forward and felt "stuck".  I was at the top of a shaky net, worsened by the fact there were other Spartans climbing on it and moving it, and it felt like there was nothing to hold on to, as I would try and get over the top. Deep breaths. Stop and think, I told myself. This was not a matter of strength, just a matter of doing. I was reminded of a quote I just recently read, "All you need is 20 seconds of insane courage and I promise you something great will come out of it." I was afraid, but I had not come this far to be conquered by a little fear. I looked toward the ground to see my GT at the bottom, waiting for Mies and I to descend. He looked calm and unworried as he looked up and me and nodded. Okay, there was clearly no need for panic, I told myself. Right leg over. 20 seconds of insane courage, and I found myself on the other side of the net, coming down. With great relief I put my feet on solid ground and shook out the anxiety from my arms and legs. These are the moments for which I do Spartan Race. Hitting the ground on the other side of that net meant that I had, again, done something I was not sure I could do, while staring my fears right in the face and beating them back into the sea of doubt from whence they came. With each race, I prove to myself that I'm stronger than I realize and capable of more than I can imagine.

After a few more challenges, I really started to feel my energy fading. I realized, after a quick time-check, that with the HH, I'd been out on the course for 4+ hours... it was a good thing we were closing in on the end. After an almost successful go at the traverse wall (so aggravating! I could've had this one, but I rushed and fell off! Next time...), we found ourselves face to face with the barbed wire crawl. The pictures reflect my lack of enthusiasm for this one. You can read it on my face. After going down and back through it in the HH, I knew what I was getting into and I was not excited - this barbed wire crawl, in particular, was extremely rocky. Low crawling was hard, because you could feel your knees and elbows digging into the rocky terrain. Rolling seemed to be the slightly more comfortable, sustainable option, but then their were obstacles to prevent you from rolling the whole length. It was an ugly crawl, BlogLand. This obstacle, for me, was simply and exercise in determination. I knew physically I could do it, it was merely a matter of dismissing the increasing discomfort of the rocks pressing into my body (and the already-forming scrapes and bruises from the HH!). I have bruises on the palms of my hands, and up and down the length of my body. But I didn't stop. Not an option. Bruises heal, scrapes only hurt for a minute or two... but quitting on an obstacle, and I'd remember that forever.

The end of (my third time through!) that crawl was the sweetest moment of the day....at least that's what my torn up elbows thought!

Regrouping the rest of my triad, we jumped the flames together (Nuvision, can we go 2-2 on Epic Fire Jump pictures, I hope?!), and ran/slid/tumbled/rolled to the finish. Momentum carrying us forward down the mountain, both the GT and I slid off our feet, but managed some ninja-like recoveries and were up and going again to tackle the gladiators and cross the finish.

After 4.5 total hours on the course that morning, I was admittedly relieved to find that finish line. I knocked back several little cups of coconut water (soooo thirsty!), and noshed on an excellent banana while collecting my t-shirt and medal.

I'd done it. I was tired, thirsty, hungry and a bit banged up... but I'd found another finish line. I began planning my "next time..." goals: complete the traverse wall without falling, make it a little farther on the monkey bars without falling... fuel a little differently, so help keep the energy a little steadier.

Having said that, I definitely thoroughly enjoyed the cheeseburger, fries and hot coffee that I devoured not too long after. I know, I know... nutritionally, not the best... but let me tell you, I was ready to eat an entire cow after that morning's energy demands.

Total Burpee Count for the race: 150 (rope climb, monkey bars, log steps, traverse wall, spear throw).

After getting home and washing the race clothes, and treating the superficial wounds, I find myself in a little bit of Race Withdrawl. At these races, you feel a little bit super human - you're leaping fire, climbing walls, smashing your limits to pieces and gaining a confidence in yourself that you can't describe. You're surrounded by the energy of people having the same experience. You're Super Man, conquering the course.

... and then, you hide your cape, wear sleeves over your bruises, and find yourself back in your office chair on Monday morning. There's no fire, no finish line... just people that raise an eyebrow when you try to describe what you've done, or in inbox full of email that doesn't care if you dominated the sandbag carry.

But never forget, BlogLand... Life can be one big Spartan Race. Take the lessons you learn on the course and apply them forward. Remember the exercises in pushing your boundaries, owning your fears and pushing on, even when you're tired. The next time that project at work feeling overwhelming - think of that 12 foot wall you got over. When you are waffling on a difficult decision, remember those 20 seconds of insane courage at the top of the cargo net.

You'll never be the same. You'll know at the Finish Line. :-)

Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance. - Virgil

Spartan Shape-Up, Day 315:

"Life is an exercise in endurance. It will beat you to the ground. Your money will fly away when you need it most. Some friends will, too.  How you react when this happens will define you."

 Somehow, Spartan Race always knows the exact thing I need to hear, when they send out their newsletter.

I'm having a real bad day today, BlogLand. It was the first time, in a really long time, that my old brain started to kick in and turn me to food again, as a coping mechanism. Major FCS flare-up.

Work is going crazy. I'm sure I don't need to spell this out for you. It's just one of those weeks where it feels like there's not enough of you - you need more hands, more time, more brains to think with, more energy, more, more, more. Pretty much every day in the last week or so, I've come out of work feeling beat up and mentally exhausted. It's temporary, due to some changes we've been dealing with... but still. It's been taking it's toll.

That has overflowed into my already-bad sleep habits. I'm not sleeping enough, and when I am sleeping, I'm dreaming like crazy. Not restful.

Then, I've got a race coming up this weekend. I'm Headed down to the Spartan Sprint in Tuxedo, NY and I'm doing my first Hurricane Heat. I'm excited out of my mind. Or I'm trying to be. I was excited out of my mind, then suddenly there were 400 little complications. I had to work out a registration snafu. I was back and forth with the (awesome!) volunteer coordinator, trying to get some stuff worked out. Coordinating with other people I know, to try and get there together became an impossibility. To add insult to injury, the one buddy I had to drive down with had a work crisis, and can't leave when I need to (to make the Hurricane Heat at 5am on Saturday!). Now I find myself in a tough spot. I'll either have to drive down by myself, or try and hunt down another group that might be going from the area, and try and hitch a ride... of which I know nobody.

*sigh*... as much as I do these races for *me*, there is a large social component. Once I get to the race, it will be fine... but I guess I always consider traveling part of the whole "experience" and it sucks to have to do that alone. I'm not an alone person. However. I suppose it will be a time for reflection. And if I have my car, perhaps, I will avoid the ride complications I had in Colorado.

Argh. I just hate dealing with this stuff 3 days before a race.

And I didn't run today. I did take my two additional prescribed walks today, but it should've been Sprint night, take 2. Last night, Sprints were cancelled on account of the Tornado Warning and raging T-storms we had here. I should've done it tonight, instead. But, I was in a crappy mood and I fell down on the job.

Not as an excuse, but I am experiencing some major DOMS (2nd day soreness!) from the Murph WOD this weekend. My hips/quads/legs in general are angry. Real angry.

So, by the time I got home at 7:30pm, knew I wasn't Sprinting, but feeling a little guilty about that, was frustrated with myself and several situations beyond my control... and just pretty ugly.

I wanted Pizza. And Hot Wings. That's what my brain said. That's what my inner Fat Chick said. Pizza and Hot Wings would make me feel better.

It is the first time in close to a year that I've really had that thought train. I even started negatively justifying it - What would it matter, I'm not losing weight right now anyway! If I'm not WOD'ing, I might as well really screw up the day!
... and so on and so forth.

It was just a really bad night. We all have them.

Thankfully, my house is pretty food "safe", and I sat on my couch with a glass of water, cried out some frustration and reflected on what would really help me. Pizza and Wings were not it. I made a list of the things I needed to do. I drank some water and went to the kitchen and found some appropriate left overs.

I've spent the evening just trying to breathe in and breathe out and remind myself that all will be fine. I just need to let go and accept the things I can not change.

What I can change is how I think about them. Pizza and Wings are NOT a solution to the feelings I was feeling, or the obstacles before me.

Now, I'm going to bed, Blogland to sleep off this ugliness. I will wake up tomorrow and take my walk, eat breakfast and get off to work.

"If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep walking. " - Proverb