I plead temporary insanity. Again.
After surviving a very long ordeal called the Vermont Beast 2014, somehow I sign up for the 3rd year in a row. What makes us come back to something that's scarier than the boogeyman and that'll make us question our sanity (or our willingness to inflict self-harm)?
This year the world championships are not being held in Killington, however Joe and Norm have promised us it will still be very, very hard. Already I'm worried about DNF-ing.
In the week leading up to departing for Killington I am packing and re-packing the snacks and essentials in my hydration pack. It already feels heavy and the water supply hasn't gone in yet! If we're supposed to snack on something every 30 to 45 minutes, and I'd guessed I'd be out there for at least 9 hours, maybe I should track down a hardy donkey to carry my load.
I am staying with friends (Caroline, Jess, Brandy, Steph, Yannick and Nuyanne) at a rented condo nearby so the fridge is well-stocked with our post-race meals - pizza, eggs, bacon, cheese, chocolate cake...Some last-minute packing has some of us worrying about enough Shot Bloks, and making peanut butter and honey sandwiches - perhaps the only real food we will be eating while out there. (I have also slightly salted the peanut butter...too much sweet over the whole day would be tedious.)
The morning of is cool but not like last year (which was less than 60 degrees Fahrenheit at the base), and once the sun comes out we're feeling alright. The elite men take off after about 15 minutes' delay...
...and the inflated start line arch somehow deflates and falls over. NOT GOOD.
While the Spartan Race crew scrambles to get the arch up again, the female elites and the first wave are all raring to go. The anxious minutes stretch on endlessly and finally the arch is back up. Over the wall, to the start line, we trot off at an energy-conserving pace and none other than Norm Koch spots us and offers us a few words of encouragement: "Yeah! That's a good pace to keep!" Jen Milligan also gives us a shout out as we go by.
The first set of obstacles start off innocently enough (2 large hay rolls that are wrapped in plastic with a large log on top make for some primitive hurdles), incline wall, a wall of hay rolls to jump over..But this is Killington, isn't it?
Bring on the hill climb.
The warning was "be ready" (aren't we!??) and a steep, direct march to the top reminds me of last year's death march (that came at mile 11). We end up at the very top, where the gondolas usually drop off riders. I recognize the same spot I sat in when it came to fastening my bindings on my snowboard. Hey! Visiting Killington to snowboard, now that's a good idea! Who decided to climb up without use of the gondola? (Temporary insanity.)
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| Group selfie en route to the top |
The first spear throw station has 3 very small hay bales clumsily stacked on top of another, threatening to tip over if the volunteer decides to so much as sneeze. Despite many targets, the lineups are pretty deep early on. Not far from the back of the lines is a lot of trees and some very steep downhill terrain, so racers are squeezing towards the front to avoid any catastrophes.
The worst was beginning to take shape when we reached the first water station almost 5 miles in, and the volunteers are telling everyone that there is no hydration bladder refilling at this one, but at the next one. I'm caught a bit off-guard (a lesson learned from GoRuck - always keep the hydration full) but continue on. Unfortunately, we are told the same thing at the 2nd water station! I don't have enough to continue on and, using Caroline as cover, fill up my water supply.
Mercifully this year, there is only 1 bucket brigade but it's every bit as nightmarish as I remember. This year however, after previously thinking my arm span wasn't long enough, realize that I can wrap my arms and hug the bucket to me. Argh! The line of racers waiting for a bucket is growing.
We find more of the large log & plastic-wrap hay rolls as obstacles (so far at least 4); the sandbag carry loop is in the same location as last year, but since it's before mile 6 and not at mile 12, it doesn't seem so bad. As Yannick and I near a small plateau before the last part of the uphill, race tape is being drawn in front of us and a crew member yells at us to turn and continue (not up, but on the way back down!)
The racers who have made their way up see this, and the amount of swearing and cursing that follows would make John McEnroe look like an angel. The line of racers waiting for sandbags is huge.
We come upon a series of walls (at least 10 stretch out before us), it appears as if someone took a bunch of O.U.T walls, shook them up Yahtzee-style and dumped them out in random order. Not the most original setup, and we've long realized that the race directors had less of a budget to work with.
(I may have gotten the order of obstacles all wrong; forgive me.)
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| Jumping over a random rock |
At the log carry, there are no distinctions between the sizes - they all fall under "awkwardly cumbersome." Somehow Brandy finds the dwarf one that she tucks under her arm and saunters off along the course. Another line that's rapidly growing, but not moving, has formed off to the side and I join the gang that's already waiting. (This is not a good sign...) A bunch of us also call out a couple who are displaying an interesting choreograph of pseudo-burpees (no jumps and no chest to ground, yet they are completely in sync). One of them sneers back: "What's a burpee look like?" Also, the heavy carries were mandatory and couldn't be avoided with burpees.
Racers are all holding open their empty hydration bladders and it appears the volunteers at the water station are scrambling. We hear that filling up is not allowed, but at this point desperate, grumbling and cranky racers are filling up nonetheless. Finally, one unfortunate soul has the hose and is the designated one replenishing everyone. A Spartan crew member looks to be there to put out fires between volunteers and racers, and impatiently informs us that all the water is near the start line, and that they didn't expect people to be filling up 3 litre hydration bladders. Close to 45 minutes later, we're all topped off.
Brandy is the enthusiastic distributor and champion of the mustard packets (as cramp busters); initially we're a bit skeptical, but it's not as bad as we think (and less of a mouthful than a gel). Paired with a bite of jerky, we tell ourselves it's sustenance. And...good golly, mustard works! So long, gels.
Unfortunately, this edition of the Beast was somewhat lackluster when it came to obstacles; it was log after log after log (large log as balance beam; a second log carry; 2 logs with chains acting as a farmer carry, another Atlas carry except a log instead of the stone...enough with the logs!) The terrain was still brutal, and only a very small water crossing where the Tyrolean traverse used to be. I have lost count on the makeshift log plus hay bale hurdles, and am tired of hearing "You're almost done!" (Please...'almost' does not mean 3 miles left!)
The daylight pretty much fades when I get to the 3rd and final barbed wire crawl - it endlessly stretches beyond, and many a tired racer is either rolling or painstakingly crawling along. Admittedly, in the darkness the fire to jump over looks spectacular - it is just a wall of flames that span the width of the finish line area. And no accelerants! That means no roiling smoke clouds!
We eventually find each other at the finish line and exchange some tired and relieved hugs after a bunch of letdowns. But they didn't end there - there are no more double trifecta medal holders for the day (for Brandy & Steph), and even though we've gotten a beer ticket with our race packet, there's only Bud Light left.
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| The end of a long race day |
The other thing that had many a participant in a tizzy was the lack of water. Fine, I get arriving prepared; people did heed the warnings about a tough race, and the warm weather forecast meant bringing more water. We read the racer's guide, which indicated 6 water stations with the option to fill up at some of them - only to find 4 on course. Not sure how many people were treated for dehydration, or cramps. One social media user's comment: "Be glad no one died today.."
I wasn't sure if I was going to continue Spartan Race next year, however after this year's Killington edition, it is final - I am closing the chapter on Spartan Race. The break-up letter may go like this:
Dear Spartan Race,
When we first met, it was a different time. We were both young, inexperienced, and starry-eyed about the world yet to unfold, the grandeur of which we could never have imagined. We grew together, had many enjoyable moments, and I couldn't wait to see you again. Several years later, you've changed. I get the impression that you care less about our relationship. You have become practically unrecognizable from your early self, and not in a positive way. I know the only constant is change, however this is very difficult for me to accept since you've grown cold and rather unforgiving.
I believe we have reached a parting of the ways.
May you go on changing the lives of others, and hopefully in a positive way. But I don't want to hear about the times you will disappoint people, or disregard their well-being in order to put yourself in a better light.
See you on the flip side,
DH
