Unlike last year, I actually got some meaningful sleep, no nightmares (least I can't remember), probably aided by me stopping at the Bobcat Café and Brewery en route. After some breakfast it was time to meet our impeding doom. I wanted to arrive early enough to watch the elite wave start (and cheer on fellow Mudd Queens Jen and Solo), but got stuck in registration. Also, we had to park a little ways away and walk on this road that wound its way uphill. Somehow, going back to the car on Beast-dead legs is going to be interesting.
Turns out at the 9am start I will be with two teammates, Becky and Tanya. I'd only met both of them at the Ottawa Sprint back in July. They say there's strength in numbers, right?
Group photo at the bag drop. Can you tell it wasn't the warmest day?!
The weather reflected our moods - grey, cloudy, slight chill in the air. Before heading up (yes, we had to walk up a slope) to the start line I must have used the washroom 3 times in the span of 20 minutes. Before getting to the start area, we all had to jump over a 6 foot wall. And it hasn't officially started yet! While anticipating for this ordeal to finally start, I realize that between the bag drop and the wall climb, I've lost my Platypus bottle (a 500ml compact bottle I filled with electrolyte solution and planned to keep refilling to make electrolyte solution; one of the things that helped me survive the Ottawa Beast). Crap. There's less than a minute to start and I'm frantically tearing open a couple of more packets of electrolytes to put in my hydration bladder - not an easy task navigating everything I've stashed in there for the race! I can't really mix it up too well, just jump up and down a few times and buckle down for the start.
The girls' plan is to ease into the first hill climb and start jogging/running after that. I don't have a problem with this strategy as these things are about conserving energy. Up the first major climb to the first set of obstacles - over and under walls. At the second under wall I stand up too soon and painfully whack the back left side of my pelvis on the frame. Ow, definitely not a good start.
The start isn't so bad as there are some technical & mountain bike trails in the woods, small ups and downs. Becky has music playing in her hydration pack and quickly gains a following, the most notable of which are two guys with Superman compression socks (complete with little capes). We hear them yell "Becky!!" at several intervals on the first trails when she's pulled ahead.
The word is out that there are two of certain obstacles (the hardest ones, of course). We get to the first sandbag carry, which is the small, cute "sandbag" called the Spartan pancake. We are mixed in with Sprint participants so this equates their sandbag carry. We're starting to think that the course plotter may have been a little nicer this time, but we know the worst is yet to come.
(Side note: I may have gotten the order of the obstacles wrong. Honestly, it's a giant blur.) Next up is the dreaded bucket carry; I am still scarred from last year's. This time around there ladies' and gents' buckets, with holes drilled at a certain level - the rocks (we put in ourselves) had to block the holes sufficiently otherwise the 30 burpee penalty was enforced. The thing with bucket carries for me is, my arms are not long enough to wrap around the blasted thing. People are offering tips to teammates, "Oh, interlock your hands and don't let go.." YEAH RIGHT. So after a short distance I wanted to change my grip, and plop the bucket down a little too quickly at an angle and the thing tips over - almost half of the rocks spill out before I realize anything. @#$%&* It is not as bad as I would have thought but then again, rumor has it there's a 2nd bucket carry. We trot on, it's about mile 3 on a relatively flat section when Tanya rolls her ankle. It must have really hurt because she had to peel off to the side for a bit and collect herself. I'm not sure what to say or do here, but sometimes stepping back and giving someone their space is the best thing to do. Then we get to the traverse wall and continue on. The sun has peeked out a bit, finally.
Onto the first swim part where the water temp is announced at 60. Brrr. A bunch of racers are stuck waiting for life vests to arrive from the other side of the lake; the other two get theirs and we originally plan that I'll take one of theirs once they cross so I can swim. Meanwhile, I'm all of a sudden juggling our 3 loaded hydration packs, walking around the penalty loop (a treacherous crossing of jagged rocks where some are slick) to the burpee area . Tanya finishes and flat-out tells me, "Don't do it." I didn't intend to burpee out but I guess if it meant staying dry...We also realize that we can't find Becky! Fellow Mudd Queen Nikki is nearby and says hello.
The second part of the water crossing was walking along the bank, feet in the water (otherwise burpee penalty). Major slowdown here as half of the time we can't see what we're putting our feet on; we emerge, pretty much wet from the waist down and find Becky (her dry clothes are in her pack!)
We plod on, onto the Atlas Carry (not too bad), barbed wire crawl in some slick mud, then onto a log carry obstacle. Just before we get to the logs a volunteer is directing us there and encouraging the racers. Since I'm caked in mud, I spread my arms and ask, "Can I get a hug?" He answers, "You sure can!" Supposedly there are different sizes for girls and guys, but we can't really tell any difference. The climb is a rather nasty one, reminiscent of the 2013 carries. Slow and steady, carefully we make our way around the loop, then we hear a chorus of "Log! Log! Log!" I turn and see a log rolling, careening down the slope! Thankfully it rolled right into the log pile at the bottom. There was also an unfortunate soul who fell and broke an ankle on the downhill part. *Honestly, I won't recommend this race to most everyone - there are perils involved, in part..
There was a logjam of people at this next balance beam type obstacle - 4 little log stumps to hop over, then a traverse across a log beam, and 4 more log stumps. We help each other navigate the log stumps (they're spread a little far apart), somehow I make the mistake of trying to side shuffle across them. I can't do side splits - now what? Let's just say by the way I eked across holding onto Tanya's hands, we should have signed up as ballroom dancing partners.
A dizzying, steep climb up possibly a double diamond trail, where a mist is enveloping the surroundings and a biting wind blows. (I also see signs for trails I went snowboarding on back in March! Gah) I'm glad I brought a buff - simply covering my head & ears is good enough to stay warm. We climb the cargo net mounted on a frame, then onto the tractor pull. The volunteer shouting out positive encouragement is my Mudd Queen doppelganger Darcy (ok she joined before I did so perhaps that makes me the doppelganger). She is running the Ultra Beast the next day so we exchange hugs and more hugs and move on.
More climbing to the memorization bit (word and number sequence according to your bib number), then ascend to the top where we're supposed to do the spear throw with those ridiculous mountaintop winds. My hydration bladder was sucked dry at that point so refilling it at the water station almost froze my fingers.
We get to run down for a bit, including a rather steep & muddy section (safer to slide on my butt), get to inverted wall, only to get to another bucket carry. This one is steeper, longer (0.2 miles about), and crueler than the earlier one. After that it's more climbing (what else?) A compilation video nicknamed this the "Death March", as it was pretty much a straight up ski hill (some sections at 28% grade) for over a kilometre. Ugh!
The hours are passing and we figure we might make it in 8-9 hours, before the sun goes down. I've planned in my head to stop by Long Trail Brewing after the race, am hoping we will get to the finish in daylight. But first, a tire pull - while sitting, pulling a large tire up a slope.
It took two of us to get that thing to budge, and that was on the women's side. Seriously who thinks of this torture? We are still in an ok mood, until we get to the nefarious sandbag carry, Beast difficulty. No cute little Spartan pancakes, but a large, white, cumbersome bag (60lb) filled with sand. I glance at the path to follow and groan. (Who remembers Disney's Cinderella? When the two mice have to carry a key up many flights of stairs, and when the larger of the two, Gus, sees them his vision spins and he sees double? Yeah, that was me right there and then). I figured as long as I had it on my shoulders and baby-stepped up, I could get to the turnaround without ever having to put it down, right?
......NOT EVEN CLOSE.
There was this awful, super steep section just before the turnaround where I saw many a racer sitting on their sandbags, catching their breath and the same look of despair in their eyes. I have to put it down cos otherwise I'll fall backwards with the thing still on my shoulders. Misery loves company...I clumsily deadlift/heave-ho the sandbag, bit by bit, up to level ground. The descent is pretty treacherous, too, and I realize I am in a grumpy mood. Total distance of the loop: 0.4 miles, and we're at the 12 mile marker.
It's starting to get dark! Over 8 hours in...A volunteer is checking if people have headlamps and glowsticks and I'm kind of stuck next in line. Becky and Tanya are behind him, urging me to join them; while he's distracted, I sneak by him. Supposedly there are 4 miles to go. Is this ever going to end?
We inadvertently play a call-and-answer game on the increasingly darkening trails, just answering "Yep!" when we call each other's names. By the way, glowsticks illuminate diddlysquat on the dark trails! Someone else has pulled out two headlamps, 1 for his head and one clipped at the waist. Becky asks, "Do you have a steak in there, too?" Just the mention of steak gets our inner carnivores going.
The path opens out to our frenemy, the Platinum Rig (or as 1 summary bluntly stated, "The orange thing.") 30 painfully sluggish burpees later, back into the dark trails. It's very tricky trying to hustle when you can't see where you're placing your foot. Much thanks to some of the New England Spahtens for letting us stick with them and their headlamps. We pull up to the Tyrolean Traverse, but it's so dark only those with a headlamp are allowed, and they are in the process of closing it off. Back into the dark we go, then onto some flat ground where we get tested on the memory. We see the rope climb and burpee out again, I don't think I have the coordination to climb it; I also realize I'm running low on gels and snacks.
The path opens out to our frenemy, the Platinum Rig (or as 1 summary bluntly stated, "The orange thing.") 30 painfully sluggish burpees later, back into the dark trails. It's very tricky trying to hustle when you can't see where you're placing your foot. Much thanks to some of the New England Spahtens for letting us stick with them and their headlamps. We pull up to the Tyrolean Traverse, but it's so dark only those with a headlamp are allowed, and they are in the process of closing it off. Back into the dark we go, then onto some flat ground where we get tested on the memory. We see the rope climb and burpee out again, I don't think I have the coordination to climb it; I also realize I'm running low on gels and snacks.
Somewhere after is the 2nd spear throw: of course it's really safe for the volunteer to let dead-tired racers aim a spear at a target in the dark! We get to I think is the last wall, but it's the highest one, so a kind fellow racer helps us over. There are muddy hills and trenches (like Tough Mudder's Mud Miles), some upper body monkey-bar type obstacle we can't see in the dark, and then come the barbed wire crawls. It's not as low as last year's, but long enough to be irritating, and we can't see what we're crawling in. There are many echoes of "ow!" Rolling isn't such a bad idea but I'm tempted to just lie on my back and stay there.
We get out close to the finish area, and own the Hercules Hoist like a boss (at least there's that). The official monkey bars were a b*tch and a half, as after the first 5 or 6 the next bar is much higher; repeat that up-down pattern 2-3 times. We are standing on a teammate's shoulders to help traverse this. We think we're near the end, but nooo, there's still more to walk (slight incline but at this point it maybe felt more like a 30% gradient) A volunteer directs us to the right, we don't comprehend which right at first, but then we see the fire and the finish. It is pitch dark all around us and we don't know what time it is.
We see flashes whenever people jump over the fire, are there still photos being taken? For this race there were automatic pictures taken when racers triggered the motion sensor. Anyway, I make a face as I jump, don't know where to look exactly, and land a bit sooner than I'd anticipated (the left ankle hates me for this) and finally cross that finish line on two feet, collecting that Beast medal. Volunteers in the finish area have cups of water ready, bananas by twos, protein shakes and bars (3 different flavours to choose from, ooo)
Fellow teammates Kelly and Stephanie (who volunteered earlier at the kids' race) are waiting for us with a pizza! P-I-Z-Z-A!!!! It felt like eating a 3 Michelin star meal, our mud-crusted hands gratefully grabbing the biggest slices we could see. So thoughtful, I love you girls. "I get by with a little help from my friends.."
Thanks Tanya for taking all the pictures!
Before I turn in for the night I grab another slice of pizza (if you're ever in the Killington area, check out IPie Pizzeria). There are happily weary Beast finishers in there, waiting for their orders. We all smile at each other in recognition of our day, and I grin goofily back as I dig into my slice.
I try to get in calories, any type of calories (beer, chips, protein shake) in anticipation for the Charity Sprint (how..why did we say yes???) the next day. Finally, sleep is a wonderful thing.
Part 2 to come soon! We're only halfway done here.
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