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| "YOU MAY DIE OR BE CATASTROPHICALLY INJURED." See, I was warned... |
My fingers are reluctantly tapping the keyboard to write this race
report. I decided it would be fair to wait at least 24 hours from our
start time to try and assess and process the entire Spartan Sprint
experience and attempt to pound it into words that fellow humans can
comprehend. Throughout this "race" my emotions were on an extreme
roller coaster. Don't mistake that for dramatic hysteria.
(Un)Fortunately, my upbringing trained me very early on to be very
comfortable with behaving as though all is right in the world even when
it is shaken and turned upside down. I realized that this experience
directly reunited me with my "inner child" (ugh) as the only thing that I
could compare my mental and emotional state to was my helpless,
uncertain, fearful existence as a little kid living in an unpredictable,
unsafe environment. How crazy is it that a race that I willingly
signed up for brought flashbacks to childhood trauma?
Just to prove that I am not a complete wuss vying for a cyber pity
party, let me spew out some of my bad-ass credentials. I have
run four marathons in one year. (that's 26.2 miles for those of you who
assume any "race" is a marathon) I have tattoos. I have birthed three children without
pain medication. The first one was over ten pounds. The second
followed a home labor that was nearly 36 hours. (and was nearly
delivered in the front passenger seat of a car) The third was induced.
Women who have had induced labors know that induction can cause
off-the-chart contractions and pain that is indescribable. And as I
implied in the previous paragraph, I have witnessed pretty scary,
violent stuff as a child (that's for another blog) so needless to say,
my durable, strong, shatter-resistant spine is intact.
