Spartan World Championships. It hadn’t even been a consideration in January. I set out this year to finish in the top 5 in my Age Group, so if you’d told me I’d finish second in the AG regional series, and qualify for World Champs I probably would’ve laughed at you. To be at this race was incredible.
I travelled down to Cambridge the day before to meet my brother, who’d be joining me for the trip. He turned out to be a constant support, before, during and after the race and made this whole trip easy and stress free. We made a quick stop to Decathlon before our flight and bought a £5 kids windbreaker coat- which would turn out to be the best thing I bought for the race.
We arrived in Tahoe 4 days before the race to acclimatize to the altitude and to shake the jet lag before the race. The first full day we were there I was in the local supermarket, dizzy and with a tight chest. I was not use to this. We spent the few days before exploring, climbing mountains and doing everything we could to adjust. Mount Rose was the most a beautiful, a 10 mile Hike near a stunning waterfall. Our evenings were spent relaxing our muscles in the hot tub and early nights as we got over lingering jet lag. The thing on my mind the most? Hydrate. The altitude meant that water intake was more important and I spent every moment of the day sipping from the water bottle I had. The weather was hot at this point. We’re talking full on British summer, 26 degree, shorts and flip flops. It was not to last. Friday we popped down to the event village for the first time- still sunny. As the evening started, the grey clouds rolled in.
Saturday. We headed back to the village for the pre-race pick up. The rain thrashed down on the car. The rain turned to sleet and the sleet to hail and snow. We arrived at the village and went straight to register where we got turned away. Level 3 weather warnings. No one was allowed up in the marquee, the lightning was too close and too dangerous. We quickly learned the entire race had been stopped. All marshals, volunteers and racers pulled off course, no obstacle use for those finishing. No finishers medal for those pulled off course. I would love to say I slept well that night, but I didn’t. I spent the whole night turning over, wondering how I’d manage the cold and elevation, worried about the lake swim, thinking through how I’d cope with the 5 obstacles we’d never seen in the UK before. But amongst the stress- excitement. This would be the biggest race of the year.
Sunday morning. I woke up early, threw on my kit and did my best to force down some porridge and black coffee. I always struggle to eat the morning of a race- in a weird way, it brought me some comfort knowing that at least was the same. I layered up on clothing, picked up my Kitbrix with all my gear- the last thing I wanted to be doing was trying to get it ready the morning of the race and headed out the door. Snow. That’s what greeted us. Gone was the shorts and t shirt weather. It was going to be a cold one.
Driving down to the event I received an email from Spartan. All races delayed by 2 hours due to weather. They couldn’t get the volunteers up the mountain because it was too icy. Nutrition plan reconsidered and another hot cup of coffee in hand we chilled in a coffee shop for a while, wondered around and got ready for the start. I borrowed some Altrain neoprene mitts- one of the best bits of kit for cold and wet races, I’d find they’d save my hands during this race. I felt nervous but I was so ready to start.
The start line. Due to the late start they’d put men and women together so it was a big crowd. Hard to scout out the competition. But I’d already decided I was going to run my own race. Put in everything I had but not waste time fretting over others and race badly as a result. Go. Off we start, the pace is fast and the first few miles are a steep climb up the mountain, a calf aching, lung burning ascent. A few walls, but really they’re just a courtesy to tire you out and break up your running. We hadn’t hit the real obstacles yet. The incline got steeper and suddenly I’m power hiking. I’m trying to get up as fast as possible and yet save my calves. I knew I’d still got a long way to go. I hit the first main obstacle- monkey bars. I felt nervous adrenaline as I saw them ahead. Too many people failing them, too many people doing burpees. My mind faltered for a second. No. I’ve only just started. I’ve trained on ones harder than these and can do them with ease. It’s just a few extra. On I jumped and swung. The bars were not textured and were more slippery than the ones I’m used to. My hands begun to freeze the second I peeled back my mits and the confidence I mustered felt fake. I hit the bell and landed. First lesson learnt- although this was a physically exhausting course- the mental side of it would be harder. The first obstacle and I’d already doubted myself; yet I’d done it with ease. I was physically ready but I did the first of many mentally pulling myself together and steeling myself for what was coming up.
Back on the climb it began to get seriously cold and the air very thin. A couple more walls, the z wall which was slippery and covered in snow and we hit the first collection of obstacles. Bucket carry. I picked up the bucket and smiled to myself. We’re use to much heavier in the UK and so I threw it on my shoulder and ran up and down the hill. Me?! Running on the bucket carry?! This gave me a boost. Over bender and I’m at the spear throw- I took a second to straighten the spear, make sure the rope was the other side of the barrier, steadied myself and threw. It was a good throw, but I didn’t account for the wind. You must account for everything in a race like this and I didn’t. 30 burpees later and my knees are cut up from the rough ground and I’m exhausted.
Another climb and we hit Olympus – again, too many people failing. It’s twice as long as usual. Still, no problem, bell hit and on we go. Over to Armer and around the corner to the multi-rig. A few rings, across a metal pole and on to some short ropes. I get across slightly in shock, I didn’t know my grip could handle the ropes. I reach across so surprised at myself that I miss the bell as I swing and land. Another 30 burpees because of a silly error. We’re not even halfway and I’ve already done more burpees than I have in a single race this year.
Another climb and we hit the highest part of the course. Cold is an understatement. By this point the cups on the water stations have ice on them, the wind chill temperature is at -19. My brother got the cable car up to come and meet me and he finds me running towards him- my words are slurring, I’m struggling to breathe and I’ve never been so cold. I keep my gloves on for the Tyrolean Rope Traverse- risky because it means my hands will be slippy, but I know realistically they won’t last in the cold that long. Hit the bell and around to ape hanger. I take the penalty loop- my hands are too cold. A loop of bungee, barbed wire style crawl. Over to the actual barbed wire crawl- slushy muddy and full of far too many stones. I feel miserable. I keep moving because I know that’s the only way I’m going to finish. Inside my pack, amongst nutrition I have my £5 kids coat inside a zip lock back and some spare arm warmers. I was keeping the coat in there dry for after the swim but I took a second to take it out and throw it on. The best decision I made. Atlas carry (a heavy concrete ball), slip wall and around the corner to the double sandbag carry.
The sandbags were awkward and heavy. Long strips of material where you have to tip the sand to either end to make them easier to balance. One over each shoulder and off we go. A sandbag carry mid race is bad enough. But when you’re freezing, have restricted oxygen and on a mountain, with not 1, but 2 sandbags, 80lbs suddenly feels much much heavier. It’s a long slope down before a long slope back up. I see people not even halfway down the slope dropping their bags already. I make the decision that I’m going to get as far around as I physically can without dropping them. I know it’ll waste too much time and expend far too much energy having to hoist them back on my shoulders. I make it down and a third of the way up the hill before my chest hurts, my shoulders are burning and I feel dizzy. Down they go. People around me are in pieces, many resorting to dragging. Bad idea- this is a carry for a reason, it’s gotta be off the ground. I sling them back on my shoulders and begin the slow ascent back up. Sandbags back in the box and I start jogging. I knew the swim was just around the corner so I stuffed my coat back in my ziplock bag- everything you take has to go in with you and I wanted something dry and warm for after.
The swim was the obstacle that before had filled me with the most dread. I hate any kind of water obstacles and always have. The mud I can take, rain I can take. But water- I’m not the strongest swimmer and I’d much rather be on my feet. I knew it’d be cold and many many people cramp up in that water from shock of the sudden change in temperature- cramp has ruined races for me before. My game plan was to not think about it- to just jump in and go, no hesitations. Which is exactly what I did. It was a bad idea and meant I was very mentally unprepared. The second I landed in the water, shock and absolute panic hit in. The temperature, the fact I couldn’t reach the bottom, it all played a part and I leapt out of the water shaking and unable to control my breathing. As panic set in the marshal turned to me. ‘This swim is mandatory and if you don’t do it you will be DQ’d.’ I couldn’t get DQ’d. I’d had a DNF next to my name in the ultra a few weeks ago, right before the end from an injured calf and I’d promised myself that would be the first and last time. I did not come all that way for a dnf because of a silly swim. I wanted this. So I pulled myself together, slowed down my breathing, climbed back in the water and begun the swim to the buoy and back. Swimming out was okay, but on the way back my muscles began to seize up from the cold, already aching from the sandbag carry and I could barely lift my arms out of the water. I’m sure my front crawl became more of a doggy paddle towards the end. I climbed out. I did it. That for me was the biggest win of the race and the biggest mental battle to get back in that water. I was capable of doing it, but I had to get over my fear and do it anyway- in the midst of panic, shock and being so cold I couldn’t think straight. Looking back at my splits, I even made up places on the swim. I threw on my dry coat and started running as quickly as I could. I’d heard that after the swim is the worst part because it’s so cold. This was not wrong. The wind made it unbearable and I couldn’t feel my hands, my feet or anything really. Many, many people dropped out with the cold and with hypothermia at this stage. 2 things kept me going. The first was completing that swim- I decided that there was no way I did that swim for nothing and the adrenaline of having done it gave me a small push. It took everything to get through that. And the second was I was mentally prepared for it. I knew it would be unbearably cold after the swim and although nothing can prepare you for how cold- I told myself that no matter what, I’d keep moving- that if I did this, eventually I’d feel my feet again and maybe even warm up a bit. And so I kept moving and begun my descent down the mountain. The shock and cold of the brutality caused a few tears. I’d like to say I was strong and smiled and loved every second of this race- but the environment was harsh and hard, I shed a couple of tears as I ran, dealt with my emotion and pushed on. I wasn’t there to quit, I was there to race.
As we head down the mountain there’s a break from the obstacles, time to put in some speed. My body starts shaking from the cold. I was prepared for this. The shivering is good, it means I’m working properly to get warmer. We hit some 7ft and 8ft walls. I don’t know what it is but the 8ft walls throw people- I see about 6 ladies struggling to get over 1 wall, 1 of them taking burpees. Up I jump, grab the top, 1 leg up and I’m over. I smile a little. I’ve done this hundreds of times.
I make it back near the event village where we are slightly sheltered from the wind. We hit Helix- a new obstacle for us UK athletes. Balance, grip, scale the side, hit the bell. Straight after- rope climb. I look at the ropes they’re thinner and much more worn down than the UK ones. Steeling myself I jump up and make my way up. My hands and arms are burning at the top but I make it and head down- the next bell hit. We round the corner to monkey in the middle. 2 rungs of twister (long poles with handles around the outside in a helix like shape that spin as you traverse them), a set of monkey bars and 2 more rungs of twister. I know I have enough grip to last. Twister I can do, monkey bars- easy. It’s a long way but doable. I start making my way across. I picked a bad lane- wet bars and frozen hands mean I slip. I’m throwing out one of the fastest sets of 30 burpees I’ve done, determined to get running again. I didn’t see anyone complete it whilst I was there, but I wasn’t going to let that lure me into a false sense of security.
I round the corner to the first A frame, followed by ‘The Box’, another US only obstacle. I can’t get up it. I had a plan but I couldn’t get a grip on the ropes and my technique wasn’t working. I didn’t have time to hang around and work out the technique, I was wasting precious seconds and so I opted for another set of burpees. It’s demoralizing knowing it would be so much easier to just do it, but in this case I made the decision to take burpees, I didn’t have time to hand around trying to figure it out.
I continue and begin the next climb up the mountain. It’s not as steep as the first one but it’s long. Back and forward across the mountain, many switch backs. At the base I see a box of sandbag carries across the mountain. I know there will be another at the end and I clock it so I can prepare myself for the carry. As I climb it seems like every time you think you’re nearly at the top you round a corner to the next hidden climb. The temperature is dropping again and my calves are beginning to feel the brunt of the elevation. A twitch here and there tells me they haven’t got much climb left in them- I need them to hold on. I take a electrolyte gel and make extra care to ensure I drink the water in my hydration pack. By this point my whole body is aching- my legs are pumping and sore, my arms and shoulders are dead from the grip and heavy carries. As I hit the peak the temptation is to take a break, but I push on knowing I’m one descent away from finishing. I hit the vertical cargo net- before you reach it there’s an Irish table. Again, another US obstacle. Irish tables I’ve done before. You grab either side of the plank of wood, lift your legs up, wrap them around the wood and move both your arms over the same side before hoisting yourself around. There’s no option to do that- the plank is too wide. It’s going require some serious upper body strength, and mine was ebbing. A couple of times throwing myself at it ended in me practically winding myself. One last try. I run, throw my head forward and use every bit of strength in my arms. Up I go. Yes! I shout loudly. A newfound energy fills me and I run onwards. Big Hurdles next. Similar technique to the Irish table- one girl is struggling, part of my wants to stop and help but I know I’m not allowed to give outside assistance. I run on, knowing the end near.
I’ve been back and forward with 2 girls throughout this entire race and we’re still heading at a similar pace- I smile to myself, let’s finish this with some good competition. I know I have fast finishes and I could see they were flagging. Time to push it.
Near the bottom we hit the second sandbag carry. By this point you go into a place where you just get stuff done. This is my favorite bit of a race. You’re exhausted, your body aches and you know you’ve nearly finished so you want to savor every moment. Time flies and some unknown burst of energy appears and it’s like you’re flying. I take myself to that place, throw the bag on my back and I’m running up the hill, to the flag and back down we go. I comfortably overtake the 2 girls. I can’t see anyone else running, everyone is like a zombie but this is when I feel most alive- back down I go. It’s a long climb but it’s only one bag and it’s a manageable weight. It’s like I’m back at the field training, just a short run with a bag. I drop the bag and run on- and we hit the next round of obstacles. Beater- spinning monkey bars at various heights. 2 tyre flips- how my hamstrings didn’t cramp up and how I lifted this weight at the end of a race, especially after my back injury earlier this year I don’t know- but it was awesome. Over the A frame again and back into the event village. I now know there’s only one obstacle left. The Herc Hoist. A heavy sandbag attached to a rope on a pulley. You pull the rope down till the sandbag hits the top before lowering it down to the floor.
I run up confidently savoring the moment. There are people on the streets clapping as I run up. I get to the hoist, grab the rope and pull. It barely moves. Well that’s heavier than I expected- either that or my arms are dead. I begin pulling. It’s halfway up and I have to put my foot on the rope to hold it there. They didn’t even hurt anymore but were completely tanked, I could barely lift them up. I start to pull again. I’m one pull away and I’m not sure I can make it. No. I have to make it. No more burpees, I’m finishing strong. With a grunt I heave the last pull and I feel the bag hit the top. I begin to lower the bag. I know if I let it drop it’ll mean burpees so steadily, with triceps burning I lower the bag until I hear the thump. I’ve done it. I see the finish line ahead as I break out into a run. I cross the line as the marshal places a medal over my neck and my brother wraps me in an embrace. I’ve made it. Months of training done. Early starts and gritty work and long runs and sessions till I’m dropping on the floor have paid off. I’ve made it. A couple of tears fall.
It's a weird feeling after a race, it’s slightly surreal- as the adrenaline begins to wear off and the fatigue begins to hit. There’s accomplishment and success, and a strange kind of emptiness that’s left when the challenge is done. I hear stories of people rushing to find food because they’re so hungry. I can never eat straight after a race. My brother wraps a blanket around me and I leave to go get changed as I just sit quietly for 5 mins. Physically and mentally exhausted, yet having completed what I set out to do.
The big question in the OCR world was should they have kept the lake swim in? I was shocked to find how many people dropped out or DNF’d with the cold- many with hypothermia. The general rule of thumb is if the air temperature and water temperature added together is below 50 degrees Fahrenheit or 10 degrees Celsius, then they pull it from the race. It was below that temperature, and yet they left it in as a mandatory obstacle. I see both sides of the coin here. For the athletes that didn’t finish- I think it takes more bravery and courage to know where your limits are and when to stop, rather than carry on; especially when so many are watching. But on the flip side- this is what we prepare for. And this is the world championships- the best athletes in the world. To be the best you prepare for anything, even the temperature. I really wanted the lake swim to be pulled because of the cold, but I didn’t count on it. I was ready, I calmed myself when I hit unexpected curveballs and I decided no matter what, I’d keep on running.
Would I do it again? It’s a funny question really, and one I’ve been asked many times since. Undoubtedly I would and I have every intention to. Yes, it was a rough race- everything from the terrain to the weather to some next level obstacles. But I learnt a lot on that course- about myself and my abilities and it’s an incredible test of fitness, mental strength, the ability to deal with the unexpected and a strong test of grit and determination. In a few years I’ll be back, and I have every intention of working my way up that board.
