A Race Just Shy of Crazy

By Amy Coward

I’m just going to say it. There’s running a race. And there’s insanity. And what I witnessed this past Saturday was heavy on the latter. A Spartan Race they call it. Was I crazy enough to do one? Heck, no. But apparently my son needed some sadistic form of fitness challenge and off he went.

After watching the promotional video, I knew I had to go to this race. I was afraid he might not come out alive. So my husband and I drove the two and a half hours to the recreation (a.k.a. torture) site.

As we drove in, we were inching along about 5 miles an hour due to the hundreds of participants and spectators arriving. The parking areas were already packed as many teams had already begun their turns on the course. From the roadside, we could see people running through the woods, scaling walls and climbing through the brush. At the spectator’s area, families and friends of all ages were there to cheer on their runners and wish them well.

Since the course is spread out over several acres through the woods, the only obstacles we could actually watch were the final three – a 25-foot rope climb, a huge wall to scale and a fire jump – all right before the finish line.

I couldn’t help but think about a recent race I had run through the Amish Country. It was a beautiful day running through bucolic farmlands, cows and pigs along the way. Quaint Amish people handing out water. Very peaceful. The absolute opposite of what was happening here. These participants were covered in mud and grass, some looking a little shell-shocked. They had been through the challenge of their lives and were simply trying to finish in one piece.

An acquaintance of mine recently said that he used to run regular road races but got so bored. He just wanted to stop and get a coffee along the way. But now with mud runs, wipeout runs, goliathons, warrior dashes, savage races, and other obstacle mania, the options for personal punishment are endless. One race has a challenge called the “arctic enema.” I don’t even want to know. It’s all I can do to run on the road, face forward, putting one foot in front of the other. Put a wall up in front of me and I’m going home.

After about an hour and 15 minutes of watching other competitors, my son came flying into the final obstacle area. He paused for a minute, caught his breath and looked at the rope obstacle that had defeated so many before him. Then he grabbed the rope and shimmied to the top to hit the bell like it was nothing. Afterwards, he raced to scale the final wall, jumped the fire pit and lunged to the finish. He completed all 25 obstacles along the 8+ mile course, avoiding the punishing burpees for those who did not complete a challenge.

We were amazed and inspired for sure. Inspired enough to race one of our own? Not me. But I fear my husband has the bug and is looking for the next opportunity to run “Spartan” style. If he does, I know I’ll want to be there to cheer him on as well. But honestly, I’ll probably have to watch peeking through my fingers. He won’t have youth and its inherent fearlessness on his side.

For me, I’ll stick to the old school road races where you simply run from point A to point B – 5 miles, 10 miles, maybe 13. That’s crazy enough for me.

Amy Coward is a public relations professional in Columbia, SC. When she is not managing the madness of event planning at Palmetto Health Foundation, she is turning her empty nest upside down looking for fun and finding it. 

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