So, after two years, it was time to get a new pair of running shoes. I think the fact that my current pair had absolutely no tread, whatsoever, kind of gave it away. I love my road running shoes - Puma H-Street Women's Plus. So, imagine my horror when I went to order a new pair from Zappo's and found there were none to be had. I checked Amazon - zilch. It began to dawn on me: My shoes had been discontinued.
Frantic, I quickly did a Bing search and was able to locate several stores that still had pairs. Unfortunately, I found that store after store no longer had the prize Pumas in my size. Finally, I was able to locate a store with several pairs in stock in my size.
Just one problem: the only color they had was...pink.
I detest pink.
Decision time. Get my beloved shoes in hated pink or switch to a different shoe.
Practicality won out in the end. And I am now the owner of not just one, but two pairs of pink Puma H-Street Women's Plus shoes.
I don't know what I'll do when I wear out the last pair.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Carolinas Superhero Scramble
On June 29th, I participated in the first Carolinas Superhero Scramble. It was at Carolinas Adventure World in Winnsboro, SC, which was the same location as the Carolinas Spartan Beast. But, honestly, there was little comparison between the two races. At the Spartan Beast, there was a nice combination of running and obstacles. The terrain was challenging but doable for most people. The Superhero Scramble, on the other hand...it was a trail run with a couple of obstacles thrown in. Not being a runner, I found that disappointing, to say the least.
So, let's break it down, shall we?
Length: Ended up being somewhere around 10-10.5 miles. The race was advertised as an 8+ miler, so that was about right. There were three water stations and GU Chomps were provided. I wish I had stuck with my Shot Blox rather than switching to the Gu - the last couple of miles were strictly walking as my calves and I hate to strike a truce that they would continue to work as long as I didn't attempt to run. I was glad I heeded the advice in the race director's notes to bring my own hydration and nutrition. There were a lot of hungry and dehydrated people towards the end of the race - and lots of DNFs.
Terrain: Brutal. Really brutal. There was one "hill" everybody was talking about - it was so steep you had to take it on your hands and knees/feet. The route was hill after hill after hill.
Afterparty: The DJ apparently ran out of money for iTunes, because the music looped after 45 minutes. The free beer (which I was going to actually get this time) was canned, not on draft. I've become way too much of a beer snob thanks to my husband). One nice touch was that there was large open-air tent/pavillion to chill out under - wonderful to get out of the sun.
Registration/Parking/Set-up: Very good
Obstacles: My biggest complaint - there were not enough. We were promised 25+ obstacles, and I doubt there were more than 12 (unless one added in all the hills). The obstacles that were in place were fun, I will say. I was extremely proud of the fact that I successfully completed every single obstacle. The first obstacle was the dreaded rope climb - they had several ropes with knots and several without knots. There was a long line for the knotted ropes (and plenty of people opting to skip the attempt and go straight for the burpees and spins - yes, penalty was 20 burpees and 10 forehead-on-a-baseball-bat spins). I prefer unknotted rope for climbs, so I went ahead and grabbed onto one of the regular lengths and rope and started climbing. And climbed. And climbed. And when I reached 3/4 of the way up, people started cheering for me. And when I reached the top - Epic. At least in my head. I was dubbed Super Rope Girl by several other racers, which made me feel pretty good. The other two obstacles I was really proud of finishing were RingWorm and the Steep Slippery Wall. RingWorm was a similar to monkey bars, but instead of bars, you had to swing from ring to ring.
So, let's break it down, shall we?
Length: Ended up being somewhere around 10-10.5 miles. The race was advertised as an 8+ miler, so that was about right. There were three water stations and GU Chomps were provided. I wish I had stuck with my Shot Blox rather than switching to the Gu - the last couple of miles were strictly walking as my calves and I hate to strike a truce that they would continue to work as long as I didn't attempt to run. I was glad I heeded the advice in the race director's notes to bring my own hydration and nutrition. There were a lot of hungry and dehydrated people towards the end of the race - and lots of DNFs.
Terrain: Brutal. Really brutal. There was one "hill" everybody was talking about - it was so steep you had to take it on your hands and knees/feet. The route was hill after hill after hill.
Afterparty: The DJ apparently ran out of money for iTunes, because the music looped after 45 minutes. The free beer (which I was going to actually get this time) was canned, not on draft. I've become way too much of a beer snob thanks to my husband). One nice touch was that there was large open-air tent/pavillion to chill out under - wonderful to get out of the sun.
Registration/Parking/Set-up: Very good
Obstacles: My biggest complaint - there were not enough. We were promised 25+ obstacles, and I doubt there were more than 12 (unless one added in all the hills). The obstacles that were in place were fun, I will say. I was extremely proud of the fact that I successfully completed every single obstacle. The first obstacle was the dreaded rope climb - they had several ropes with knots and several without knots. There was a long line for the knotted ropes (and plenty of people opting to skip the attempt and go straight for the burpees and spins - yes, penalty was 20 burpees and 10 forehead-on-a-baseball-bat spins). I prefer unknotted rope for climbs, so I went ahead and grabbed onto one of the regular lengths and rope and started climbing. And climbed. And climbed. And when I reached 3/4 of the way up, people started cheering for me. And when I reached the top - Epic. At least in my head. I was dubbed Super Rope Girl by several other racers, which made me feel pretty good. The other two obstacles I was really proud of finishing were RingWorm and the Steep Slippery Wall. RingWorm was a similar to monkey bars, but instead of bars, you had to swing from ring to ring.
It was a great feeling to beat that obstacle. Especially when the big muscley guys were dropping halfway through...
Giant Slide at the End
Finish Line
While I was proud of my performance, I can't say the race was very fun. Like I said, there simply were not enough obstacles. I was also concerned by the lack of volunteers - especially safety/medical volunteers - on the course. There were good mile+ stretches without readily available help. I passed a number of people who needed aid, and they were waiting while someone in their group ran to find someone. It was with little surprise that my group of racers agreed that we were not likely to do another Superhero Scramble.
Oh well. Back to training for the my next OCR: Spartan Super in Virginia. I while need to start doing more hill training in preparation - it' a Wintergreen Ski Resort.
My calves are considering taking out a restraining order against me.
Saturday, June 8, 2013
Warrior Dash 2013- North Carolina
Last Saturday, I ran Warrior Dash 2013 in North Carolina. Now, Warrior Dash has always held a special place in my heart - it was the first OCR I ever did and the one that got me addicted. I was looking forward to running my 3rd WD - especially since I was pretty much guaranteed a warm weather race (which I have sorely missed thus far this season). While the weather held out, the race itself was disappointing.
Disappointment started as soon as I arrived at Rural Hill, where the race was being held. I was running alone - my running partner had to go to her son's high school graduation (excuses, excuses), but I was ok with that. As usual, something came up for me, physically, to mess up my ability to prepare. This time it was nausea/stomach upset that had been going on 1.5 weeks - I had lost 3-4 pounds by the time WD rolled around, I was so miserable. So that Saturday, I got up, dry heaved a bit, choked down half a protein bar, and set off for my 9 am wave. I'm glad I was in an early wave - the registration was, to put it mildly, a complete cluster. I'm not sure if it was disorganzed, if the volunteers did not know what they were doing, or if there simply weren't enough volunteers to handle registration. At any rate, there was a lot of grumbling in the long and slow line. I barely managed to make it into my wave.
I was not pleased.
The race itself was not as challenging as in the past. Obstacles seemed simpler than previously. I found myself getting bored here and there. In spite of not feeling well (and not hydrating well enough), I was making excellent time going into the final obstacle - the mud pit.
Now, mind you, I have run over 15 OCRs since I started getting muddy. I've gone through watery mud puddles, uphill through 100-yd long barbed wire crawls, and through absolutely putrid sludge. None of those pits held a candle to the nastiness that was this mud pit. It was more like a combination of molasses and quicksand. It was the stickiest, heaviest mud I have ever been in. And, like most everyone else in the pit, I had a difficult time not getting stuck.
And, then, of course, I did get stuck. For real. Both legs - completely unable to move. After 10 minutes I struggling, I managed to free my right leg. However, my left leg was deep in the mud. Every time I tried to move it, I could feel my shoe getting pulled off. I love my Inov-8s - no way was I losing one of them in that mud pit! So, I continued to work and struggle to free myself, even as I had visions of needing a crane to pull me out. Luckily, at some point, a wonderful man had pity on me and helped me to free my left leg. With waning energy, I managed to make it to the berm at the edge of the mud pit. At that point, I looked up at a guy standing there, and pitifully asked him to pull me out. He did so, and I stood up on the other side, I was amazed at how much mud was clinging to me. I felt 20 lbs heavier. I finally crossed the finish line, thoroughly beaten for all the wrong reasons.
I don't know how long I was stuck in the Molasses Swamp, but I do know that many people opted not to try it all, skewing finish times. As I headed to the wash down, I looked down and realized that I was caked in mud. Usually, at washdown, I can count on at least one skeevy guy offering to help me wash my back off. No one offered this time. Possibly because no one could tell that I was a girl.
I changed in the Port-a-Potty (no changing tents - yay) and grabbed my beer token. I'm not one to drink alone, so I scanned the crowds, spotted a guy wearing a giant Afro wig, walked up to him, and gave him my token. He was thankful and surprised, but I just smiled and headed back out to my car.
I was done. In more ways than one. While Warrior Dash will always hold a place in my heart, I doubt I will do another one.
Disappointment started as soon as I arrived at Rural Hill, where the race was being held. I was running alone - my running partner had to go to her son's high school graduation (excuses, excuses), but I was ok with that. As usual, something came up for me, physically, to mess up my ability to prepare. This time it was nausea/stomach upset that had been going on 1.5 weeks - I had lost 3-4 pounds by the time WD rolled around, I was so miserable. So that Saturday, I got up, dry heaved a bit, choked down half a protein bar, and set off for my 9 am wave. I'm glad I was in an early wave - the registration was, to put it mildly, a complete cluster. I'm not sure if it was disorganzed, if the volunteers did not know what they were doing, or if there simply weren't enough volunteers to handle registration. At any rate, there was a lot of grumbling in the long and slow line. I barely managed to make it into my wave.
I was not pleased.
The race itself was not as challenging as in the past. Obstacles seemed simpler than previously. I found myself getting bored here and there. In spite of not feeling well (and not hydrating well enough), I was making excellent time going into the final obstacle - the mud pit.
Now, mind you, I have run over 15 OCRs since I started getting muddy. I've gone through watery mud puddles, uphill through 100-yd long barbed wire crawls, and through absolutely putrid sludge. None of those pits held a candle to the nastiness that was this mud pit. It was more like a combination of molasses and quicksand. It was the stickiest, heaviest mud I have ever been in. And, like most everyone else in the pit, I had a difficult time not getting stuck.
And, then, of course, I did get stuck. For real. Both legs - completely unable to move. After 10 minutes I struggling, I managed to free my right leg. However, my left leg was deep in the mud. Every time I tried to move it, I could feel my shoe getting pulled off. I love my Inov-8s - no way was I losing one of them in that mud pit! So, I continued to work and struggle to free myself, even as I had visions of needing a crane to pull me out. Luckily, at some point, a wonderful man had pity on me and helped me to free my left leg. With waning energy, I managed to make it to the berm at the edge of the mud pit. At that point, I looked up at a guy standing there, and pitifully asked him to pull me out. He did so, and I stood up on the other side, I was amazed at how much mud was clinging to me. I felt 20 lbs heavier. I finally crossed the finish line, thoroughly beaten for all the wrong reasons.
I don't know how long I was stuck in the Molasses Swamp, but I do know that many people opted not to try it all, skewing finish times. As I headed to the wash down, I looked down and realized that I was caked in mud. Usually, at washdown, I can count on at least one skeevy guy offering to help me wash my back off. No one offered this time. Possibly because no one could tell that I was a girl.
I changed in the Port-a-Potty (no changing tents - yay) and grabbed my beer token. I'm not one to drink alone, so I scanned the crowds, spotted a guy wearing a giant Afro wig, walked up to him, and gave him my token. He was thankful and surprised, but I just smiled and headed back out to my car.
I was done. In more ways than one. While Warrior Dash will always hold a place in my heart, I doubt I will do another one.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Carolinas Spartan Sprint 2013
This is the recap I've kind of been dreading writing. I love OCRs. I love Spartans. But I can't, for the life of me, write that I enjoyed the 2013 Carolinas Sprint. It was hard, it was a struggle, and I'm proud that I finished, but, to be frank, I feel like a dumbass for having done it.
Let me explain.
This year has been unseasonably cold. Historically, the high should be around 63 degrees on March 23 in Charlotte. On the day I ran the Sprint, the high was 53 degrees and the low was 40. When I took off running at 10 am on the 23rd, under cloudy skies, it was not even 47 degrees out. And even though I was dressed for the weather (CW-X insulator pants, Reebok Cold Weather long-sleeve top over my CW-X top, Under Armour Beanie, heat patches on my back), I felt the cold. Immensely. I am the person who is always cold. July in Charlotte and I was 9 months pregnant - I still never felt extremely hot. As I took off running, I worried about the cold. I worried about being wet and cold. I knew that I didn't have the resistance that other people do to the cold. But, I let those fears fall away and concentrated on the course, telling myself that my worries about the cold were unfounded.
Unfortunately, they weren't.
The Sprint was again at the US National Whitewater Center. Thankfully, there was no full-out swim at the end of the race, like in 2012. As Shana and I ran up to the starting area (we had to run to make sure we would make our starting wave), I concentrated on staying warm and was telling myself that once I started running, I would be fine.
Shana and I stayed to the back of the wave as we took off running. All of the recent rain made the trails quite slippery and muddy, but I was doing fine and slowly got ahead of Shana. My worries about the cold led me to run at my own pace, which was somewhat faster than her. We wouldn't see each other again until Tough Mudder two weeks later.
The first obstacle was over-under walls. Accomplished with no help needed. Next up was the first mud pit. Deep, sticky mud. I was doing well until some guy fell into me. Honestly, I was a little ticked about being someone's landing spot, but he apologized and we moved on. The mud pit ended segued into the river walk. Being 5'2", it was more like a river dog paddle. Towards the end of the walk, there was a hold up as people had trouble getting up the bank and back onto the trail. I was feeling the cold at this point, and rude or not, I went around the line of people waiting to get out and made my own way up the bank - I needed to start moving again. Others followed my lead, though, making me feel better about my choice.
Next obstacle was the 8-foot wall. I got over by myself with no problem, using the steps/slats for the women. This led immediately into the "tractor pull" - pulling a concrete block by a chain up and down a hill. I struggled here, but completed. It was cold and my muscles were working very hard. More river walking/paddling followed. Running was becoming harder, as my muscles were so frozen, I was feeling every step vibrate up my legs and body.
Next up: mud hills and mud ponds. I was coated in slippery mud and after finishing this obstacle, I took several falls onto my right thigh and side while running. Good times.
Then came the turn for the worst. After a bit more running came the muddy barbed wire crawl. As usual, I proceeded to roll through the obstacles, quickly getting through it. Unfortunately, I got caked, front and back, in cold, cold mud. As I got up from the obstacle, I joked with the volunteer that I couldn't feel anything from the neck down. I started running again, but found I couldn't warm up like before. The next obstacle was the monkey bars, and I barely attempted them - the hands were starting to not respond to me. I did my ugly burpees and moved on - hardly anyone was completing the monkey bars on that day. I completed the Hercules Hoist successfully and had no problem with running through the tunnel (being short is an advantage at times). Cargo net was harder than usual because my muscles were so cold and stiff. More running, and then the sandbag carry.
It was at the sandbag carry that I began to realize I was in trouble. I was far more winded by the carry than I should have been, and it began to dawn on me that I was hyperventilating - a sign of hypothermia setting in. By the time I made it to the traverse wall, my hands were barely responding to my attempts to move them - I couldn't even get on the wall because I could no longer grip. I accomplished the tractor tire flip by teaming up with another female (teams had to do double the number of flips). It's hard to say in retrospect, but I think at this point, my mind went a little bit. I was on the verge of tears as I got to the spear throw and realized I physically couldn't stop shaking long enough to try it. The volunteer at the spear throw laughed at my panic- I have to hope that he didn't understand what was going on. But at that point, his laughing made me think that the only way I was going to get the help I knew I needed was by finishing the race. I ran on to the rope climb and realized that I could never complete it in my condition and that I couldn't waste precious minutes in attempting to complete it. I did, however, complete my 30 burpees (ugly as all get out and accompanied by my panicky breathing). I ran on and quickly made it up the slippery wall, jumped over the fire, and ran through the gladiators to the finish line.
As I crossed the finish line, I couldn't stop shaking. The volunteer who was about to hand me my medal told me I was blue. I told her I needed help. She immediately took me to a staff member who took me to the medic tent. The medics were amazing - they tried to get me dried off and put me in front of a heat blower, turning me every few minutes in an attempt to get me warm. They talked me through the hyperventilation. They wanted to take me to a different tent to get under heat blankets, but when they said they would have to call my emergency contact, I chattered, "No. I think I'll be ok." If they had to call the husband out there to help me out, I knew it would be game over for any future OCRs. After at least 30 minutes, they released me to the heated changing tent under the care of my friend, Karen, who happened to walk into the medic tent when I was there. My muscles ached from the shivering and spasms, and I was grateful that Karen went and got my things for me from the gear check. I don't know how long I stood in the heated changing tent before I finally stopped shivering. But, eventually, the shivering stopped and I was able to finish getting dressed and came out of the tent.
So, I completed. But as I said earlier, I feel like a dumbass for doing it. I was lucky I didn't get into more trouble out there than I did. Thankfully, it was just mild hypothermia and nothing more serious. But I learned a lesson - try all you might, but you can't beat your body's limits. I'm signed up for the Carolinas Beast, but if the weather and temps are anything like the Sprint, I will not be running the Beast.
Some things are just not worth it.
Let me explain.
This year has been unseasonably cold. Historically, the high should be around 63 degrees on March 23 in Charlotte. On the day I ran the Sprint, the high was 53 degrees and the low was 40. When I took off running at 10 am on the 23rd, under cloudy skies, it was not even 47 degrees out. And even though I was dressed for the weather (CW-X insulator pants, Reebok Cold Weather long-sleeve top over my CW-X top, Under Armour Beanie, heat patches on my back), I felt the cold. Immensely. I am the person who is always cold. July in Charlotte and I was 9 months pregnant - I still never felt extremely hot. As I took off running, I worried about the cold. I worried about being wet and cold. I knew that I didn't have the resistance that other people do to the cold. But, I let those fears fall away and concentrated on the course, telling myself that my worries about the cold were unfounded.
Unfortunately, they weren't.
The Sprint was again at the US National Whitewater Center. Thankfully, there was no full-out swim at the end of the race, like in 2012. As Shana and I ran up to the starting area (we had to run to make sure we would make our starting wave), I concentrated on staying warm and was telling myself that once I started running, I would be fine.
Shana and I stayed to the back of the wave as we took off running. All of the recent rain made the trails quite slippery and muddy, but I was doing fine and slowly got ahead of Shana. My worries about the cold led me to run at my own pace, which was somewhat faster than her. We wouldn't see each other again until Tough Mudder two weeks later.
The first obstacle was over-under walls. Accomplished with no help needed. Next up was the first mud pit. Deep, sticky mud. I was doing well until some guy fell into me. Honestly, I was a little ticked about being someone's landing spot, but he apologized and we moved on. The mud pit ended segued into the river walk. Being 5'2", it was more like a river dog paddle. Towards the end of the walk, there was a hold up as people had trouble getting up the bank and back onto the trail. I was feeling the cold at this point, and rude or not, I went around the line of people waiting to get out and made my own way up the bank - I needed to start moving again. Others followed my lead, though, making me feel better about my choice.
Next obstacle was the 8-foot wall. I got over by myself with no problem, using the steps/slats for the women. This led immediately into the "tractor pull" - pulling a concrete block by a chain up and down a hill. I struggled here, but completed. It was cold and my muscles were working very hard. More river walking/paddling followed. Running was becoming harder, as my muscles were so frozen, I was feeling every step vibrate up my legs and body.
Next up: mud hills and mud ponds. I was coated in slippery mud and after finishing this obstacle, I took several falls onto my right thigh and side while running. Good times.
Then came the turn for the worst. After a bit more running came the muddy barbed wire crawl. As usual, I proceeded to roll through the obstacles, quickly getting through it. Unfortunately, I got caked, front and back, in cold, cold mud. As I got up from the obstacle, I joked with the volunteer that I couldn't feel anything from the neck down. I started running again, but found I couldn't warm up like before. The next obstacle was the monkey bars, and I barely attempted them - the hands were starting to not respond to me. I did my ugly burpees and moved on - hardly anyone was completing the monkey bars on that day. I completed the Hercules Hoist successfully and had no problem with running through the tunnel (being short is an advantage at times). Cargo net was harder than usual because my muscles were so cold and stiff. More running, and then the sandbag carry.
It was at the sandbag carry that I began to realize I was in trouble. I was far more winded by the carry than I should have been, and it began to dawn on me that I was hyperventilating - a sign of hypothermia setting in. By the time I made it to the traverse wall, my hands were barely responding to my attempts to move them - I couldn't even get on the wall because I could no longer grip. I accomplished the tractor tire flip by teaming up with another female (teams had to do double the number of flips). It's hard to say in retrospect, but I think at this point, my mind went a little bit. I was on the verge of tears as I got to the spear throw and realized I physically couldn't stop shaking long enough to try it. The volunteer at the spear throw laughed at my panic- I have to hope that he didn't understand what was going on. But at that point, his laughing made me think that the only way I was going to get the help I knew I needed was by finishing the race. I ran on to the rope climb and realized that I could never complete it in my condition and that I couldn't waste precious minutes in attempting to complete it. I did, however, complete my 30 burpees (ugly as all get out and accompanied by my panicky breathing). I ran on and quickly made it up the slippery wall, jumped over the fire, and ran through the gladiators to the finish line.
As I crossed the finish line, I couldn't stop shaking. The volunteer who was about to hand me my medal told me I was blue. I told her I needed help. She immediately took me to a staff member who took me to the medic tent. The medics were amazing - they tried to get me dried off and put me in front of a heat blower, turning me every few minutes in an attempt to get me warm. They talked me through the hyperventilation. They wanted to take me to a different tent to get under heat blankets, but when they said they would have to call my emergency contact, I chattered, "No. I think I'll be ok." If they had to call the husband out there to help me out, I knew it would be game over for any future OCRs. After at least 30 minutes, they released me to the heated changing tent under the care of my friend, Karen, who happened to walk into the medic tent when I was there. My muscles ached from the shivering and spasms, and I was grateful that Karen went and got my things for me from the gear check. I don't know how long I stood in the heated changing tent before I finally stopped shivering. But, eventually, the shivering stopped and I was able to finish getting dressed and came out of the tent.
So, I completed. But as I said earlier, I feel like a dumbass for doing it. I was lucky I didn't get into more trouble out there than I did. Thankfully, it was just mild hypothermia and nothing more serious. But I learned a lesson - try all you might, but you can't beat your body's limits. I'm signed up for the Carolinas Beast, but if the weather and temps are anything like the Sprint, I will not be running the Beast.
Some things are just not worth it.
WOD: Writing
So, yeah. I've been really bad about writing. Blah, blah, work, blah, blah, kids, blah, blah, can't even get to the gym regularly.
There. You happy?
Seriously, my life since January has been nonstop Murphy's Law. The family got hit with the flu right after New Year's (and it was nasty!). Finally recovered from that and was getting back into the swing of things and early-February, the kid's sitter takes a new full-time job and I have to find a new sitter. Then at the end of February, personnel changes at the office mean I have to work 7 days per week, a least 10 hours per day. I think I may have gotten 4 days off in total during March. Things have finally started to slow down at the office, and the husband goes out of town on an assignment.
*Sigh* It's always something.
But, I did manage 3 out of 4 races so far. Jungle Cup Carolinas was cancelled, so my race season did not start until Carolinas Spartan Sprint. And what a start that was! Recap (obviously late) to come. Successfully completed Tough Mudder Georgia, and then I did Rugged Maniac North Carolina all by my lonesome (the change in hubby's schedule meant we couldn't make the trip to Richmond - Rugged Maniac was awesome enough to transfer my registration!). And now I have the USMC Mud Run in Columbia tomorrow.
So, enough catch up...time for some recaps!
There. You happy?
Seriously, my life since January has been nonstop Murphy's Law. The family got hit with the flu right after New Year's (and it was nasty!). Finally recovered from that and was getting back into the swing of things and early-February, the kid's sitter takes a new full-time job and I have to find a new sitter. Then at the end of February, personnel changes at the office mean I have to work 7 days per week, a least 10 hours per day. I think I may have gotten 4 days off in total during March. Things have finally started to slow down at the office, and the husband goes out of town on an assignment.
*Sigh* It's always something.
But, I did manage 3 out of 4 races so far. Jungle Cup Carolinas was cancelled, so my race season did not start until Carolinas Spartan Sprint. And what a start that was! Recap (obviously late) to come. Successfully completed Tough Mudder Georgia, and then I did Rugged Maniac North Carolina all by my lonesome (the change in hubby's schedule meant we couldn't make the trip to Richmond - Rugged Maniac was awesome enough to transfer my registration!). And now I have the USMC Mud Run in Columbia tomorrow.
So, enough catch up...time for some recaps!
Monday, December 10, 2012
Girls Gone Muddy
"This
is a man's world," James Brown once sang.
And to read this story in the New York Times, you'd have to think the title of the song, "It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World" would be a pretty apt description for the OCR scene.
And you'd be wrong.
Sure, lots of OCR advertising material focuses on attracting the beer-chugging, fist-pumping, chest-thumping, weekend-warrior-kind-of-guy, but OCRs are not the sole province of the testosterone set. As I, and my 8466 sisters who are a part of the Spartan Chicked movement, can attest to, women are just as good at getting as dirty.
Writer Joshua David Stein, in his NY Times piece, describes the Tough Mudder as "an extreme obstacle course that is becoming the macho sport of choice for Type A men (and some women) who find marathons too easy and triathlons meh." He goes on to chronicle pull-up challenges, keg-chucking, and other feats of intense, well, male-ness. He focuses on the "band of brothers" camaraderie and spirit.
And he totally misses that lots of women run OCRs too.
Are there tons of guys, like the ones Stein describes, running OCRs? Sure. But there are tons of others, too, from all walks of life. Mixed in with the former athletes and hardcore fitness fanatics, there are plenty of people who are out there on the course, just trying to prove that they can overcome one more challenge, conquer one more obstacle. There are plenty of women running these races - from stay-at-home-mothers in Ohio, to English teachers in New Hampshire, to graduate students in New Mexico. To stereotype obstacle course races as a man's world is to discount the growing number of women who are getting down and dirty in the mud every weekend.
I, myself, am a self-described OCR addict. As my husband so often complains, I plan my year (and my vacations) around OCRs. I ask for Dri-Fit gear and trail running shoes for Christmas. I head to the gym, not so I can look better in a bikini, but so that I can finally complete a rope climb during a race.
And I'm not alone. The number of female obstacle course racers increases every year. We are a force to be reckoned with. And while we may be competing for different and very personal reasons, we all get at least a small sense of satisfaction when we pass a guy on the course - also known as "chicking."
And why not, when as Stein describes in his article, there are men who put surgical tape on their chests, while saying, “This is going to be 9/11 on my nipples.”
Really? Try nursing a baby with tongue tie and thrush. Dude needs to quit whining and take a lesson from the chicks and Spartan the F up...
And to read this story in the New York Times, you'd have to think the title of the song, "It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World" would be a pretty apt description for the OCR scene.
And you'd be wrong.
Sure, lots of OCR advertising material focuses on attracting the beer-chugging, fist-pumping, chest-thumping, weekend-warrior-kind-of-guy, but OCRs are not the sole province of the testosterone set. As I, and my 8466 sisters who are a part of the Spartan Chicked movement, can attest to, women are just as good at getting as dirty.
Writer Joshua David Stein, in his NY Times piece, describes the Tough Mudder as "an extreme obstacle course that is becoming the macho sport of choice for Type A men (and some women) who find marathons too easy and triathlons meh." He goes on to chronicle pull-up challenges, keg-chucking, and other feats of intense, well, male-ness. He focuses on the "band of brothers" camaraderie and spirit.
And he totally misses that lots of women run OCRs too.
Are there tons of guys, like the ones Stein describes, running OCRs? Sure. But there are tons of others, too, from all walks of life. Mixed in with the former athletes and hardcore fitness fanatics, there are plenty of people who are out there on the course, just trying to prove that they can overcome one more challenge, conquer one more obstacle. There are plenty of women running these races - from stay-at-home-mothers in Ohio, to English teachers in New Hampshire, to graduate students in New Mexico. To stereotype obstacle course races as a man's world is to discount the growing number of women who are getting down and dirty in the mud every weekend.
I, myself, am a self-described OCR addict. As my husband so often complains, I plan my year (and my vacations) around OCRs. I ask for Dri-Fit gear and trail running shoes for Christmas. I head to the gym, not so I can look better in a bikini, but so that I can finally complete a rope climb during a race.
And I'm not alone. The number of female obstacle course racers increases every year. We are a force to be reckoned with. And while we may be competing for different and very personal reasons, we all get at least a small sense of satisfaction when we pass a guy on the course - also known as "chicking."
And why not, when as Stein describes in his article, there are men who put surgical tape on their chests, while saying, “This is going to be 9/11 on my nipples.”
Really? Try nursing a baby with tongue tie and thrush. Dude needs to quit whining and take a lesson from the chicks and Spartan the F up...
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Superman and Tough Mothers
I did not want to go the the gym today.
I've been back crossfitting now for almost 2 months, and I'm signed up for 3 classes per week (really, with my schedule, fitting anything more would be a challenge. Eh, who am I kidding, with my schedule, fitting in 3 classes per week is a challenge). Since I registered for Tough Mudder Georgia (April 6!), I have officially put myself into training - which means making it into the box (Crossfit term for the gym) 3 times per week, as well as getting at least one run in per week. In order to meet my goal, I dutifully packed up my gym bag and threw it in my car, so I could go to the box right after work.
Well, my box posts its daily WODs (workout of the day) on its website. During an idle moment at work this afternoon, I decided to look up the WOD, to get an idea of what I would be in for.
Bad move.
The WOD was rowing. Intervals of 250m rowing sprints followed by 3 minutes of rest, 8 times on the Concept 2 (C2) rower.
I hate rowing. It makes me legs feel all rubbery and my forearms all stiff. It doesn't help that I am always the slowest rower, either.
I sat there, at work, staring at the computer screen, and excuses started popping into my head. I needed to spend more time with the kids. I really needed to finish up a report. I could always go on Friday and then Saturday and still get my 3 classes in this week - no harm, no foul, right?
And then, it hit me: if I ran away from this challenge, this WOD, I might as well quit training for the Tough Mudder right then and there. Because nothing about Tough Mudder is going to be easy: not the obstacles, not the cold, nothing. Just like the Spartan Beast, it will be about facing my limits and pushing through them. I am not going to be the toughest or strongest or fastest at the Tough Mudder (or, let's face it, at any race), but it shouldn't even be about that. Just showing up to take on something you know will be a challenge takes tremendous amounts of strength and courage. There was a great movie called "Angus" from the mid-90s. In it, Angus's grandfather is trying to impart words of wisdom to his teenage grandson, Angus, who has been the target of bullies for years. He tells Angus, "Superman isn't brave."
Sometimes training isn't just about the physical - it's about the mental too. And, today, I totally smoked the WOD when it came to the mental.
I've been back crossfitting now for almost 2 months, and I'm signed up for 3 classes per week (really, with my schedule, fitting anything more would be a challenge. Eh, who am I kidding, with my schedule, fitting in 3 classes per week is a challenge). Since I registered for Tough Mudder Georgia (April 6!), I have officially put myself into training - which means making it into the box (Crossfit term for the gym) 3 times per week, as well as getting at least one run in per week. In order to meet my goal, I dutifully packed up my gym bag and threw it in my car, so I could go to the box right after work.
Well, my box posts its daily WODs (workout of the day) on its website. During an idle moment at work this afternoon, I decided to look up the WOD, to get an idea of what I would be in for.
Bad move.
The WOD was rowing. Intervals of 250m rowing sprints followed by 3 minutes of rest, 8 times on the Concept 2 (C2) rower.
I hate rowing. It makes me legs feel all rubbery and my forearms all stiff. It doesn't help that I am always the slowest rower, either.
I sat there, at work, staring at the computer screen, and excuses started popping into my head. I needed to spend more time with the kids. I really needed to finish up a report. I could always go on Friday and then Saturday and still get my 3 classes in this week - no harm, no foul, right?
And then, it hit me: if I ran away from this challenge, this WOD, I might as well quit training for the Tough Mudder right then and there. Because nothing about Tough Mudder is going to be easy: not the obstacles, not the cold, nothing. Just like the Spartan Beast, it will be about facing my limits and pushing through them. I am not going to be the toughest or strongest or fastest at the Tough Mudder (or, let's face it, at any race), but it shouldn't even be about that. Just showing up to take on something you know will be a challenge takes tremendous amounts of strength and courage. There was a great movie called "Angus" from the mid-90s. In it, Angus's grandfather is trying to impart words of wisdom to his teenage grandson, Angus, who has been the target of bullies for years. He tells Angus, "Superman isn't brave."
You don't understand. He's smart, handsome, even decent. But he's not brave. No, listen to me. Superman is indestructible, and you can't be brave if you're indestructible. It's people like you and your mother. People who are different, and can be crushed and know it. Yet they keep on going out there every time.I went to the box this evening. I did my WOD. Out of the the 8 other people who came for the 6pm class, I was, by far, the slowest. Out of all of the people who did the WOD today, I was the second slowest. But I did it. I showed up, gave it my all, and I walked out proud of myself for not running away.
Sometimes training isn't just about the physical - it's about the mental too. And, today, I totally smoked the WOD when it came to the mental.
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