Holy crap. That may in fact have been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. There was a brief period in time where I wanted to punch Rick Kraics in the face for talking me into signing up for this debacle. I now know what the guy who pays prostitutes to kick the shit out of him feels like. You have less money in your pocket, are very bruised, and slightly humiliated. Retrospectively, it was fun, but isn't that the way all of these seem?
So yeah. The Spartan Beast. This is the current long version of the Spartan Race series. The series is of the obstacle course trend you find lately, ala Warrior Dash, Tough Mudder, etc. The other Spartan races have been 3 & 8 miles, scattered all over North America and the UK, and judging from the videos on YouTube, a fair bit easier. The Beast was August 6, 2011, the first of it's length. Incidentally, Peak Racing, the mother ship of the Spartan Series, does a Death Race. This is a 24 hour mind-fuck (pardon my french) held annually in Pittsfield, VT, which has a 90% DNF ratio. I'm not sure I'll ever be in a position to sign up for something like the Death Race. This is also being rolled into the Spartan Series.
Back to the Beast. I'll start by saying I was wholly unprepared. Sure, I can do some solid distances on trails and I can climb well. But this was another thing entirely, and it drew a very interesting crowd. The first thing I noticed on arrival was that probably 90% of the 2000+ participants were jacked. Bulging biceps, 6-packs, rippling quads ... the whole business. It took me about 30 seconds to feel out of place and seriously intimidated. I took solace in that there were a few rare participants wandering about who were overweight and even more out of place than I was. I was also hoping that a few of the Greek gods and goddesses were gym rats with poor endurance. Fortunately, my guess was correct. As the day wore on and I overheard more and more snippets of conversation: "...have never run more than 8 miles", "have never run trails", etc., etc. The stupidity of the average American never ceases to amaze me. At what point in time does it occur to you that being able to bench press 300 pounds also allows you to run 12 miles through the mountains? Look guys! I have a 6-pack! I'll bet I can run faster and farther than you! And thus ... there were people on the course for 14 hours.
The race took place in heats of maybe 300-400 people, each heat with a good deal of fanfare. There was the MC dressed up like an extra from the movie 300, bellowing the obligatory movie quotes such as "Tonight we dine in hell!!". Heats would leave through a screen of smoke grenades and jump over a line of flames. I've seen this before, as these obstacle courses like to advertise it, but hadn't participated. Strangely enough, jumping over a fire isn't even really hot. I suppose it'd be problematic if you tripped and landed square in the fire, but otherwise, no biggie. My heat was the 4th, 10:30 a.m. Anybody wishing for a competitive time should sign up for the 1st heat. Everything beyond that was a series of logjams. As the crowds backed up, the single tracks became single file marches and certain obstacles developed big wait times.
A brief disclaimer: There were something in the neighborhood of 18 obstacles over the 12 mile course. I don't/won't remember them all and am not trying to get the order perfect. So be it.
Heat starts were a "1,2,3 go" type setup. It was fine, given that the MC had a mic. A starting gun would've been out of place, given the Spartan theme. Not much you can do with a spear that's terribly noisy to start a race, outside of impaling one of the runners. Groups took off at a moderate trot, as things headed uphill immediately. The initial incline was mellow, and involved running through the smoke bombs, jumping over the fires, and getting blasted with fire hoses. All of this largely seemed to be for the audience, as it didn't really add to the challenge. But for an entry fee of $100, a bit of pageantry is probably warranted. Within half a mile came the first obstacle. This was a series of 6 walls, roughly 5 feet high. You had to climb over the first, under the second, and through holes in the middle of the third. Rinse, repeat. Not overly difficult. From there, the course broke onto a single track and started climbing. And climbing. And climbing. I'm not sure which ski runs we were near, but they were without question black or double black. Killington advertises over 3000 feet of vertical. I really don't know what it was for this particular section, but saw that somebody had done a gps of the route and I'm guestimating that this was about a 1700 foot climb.
The trails were interesting, albeit congested. I felt pretty good for all but the last climb, but I wasn't exactly moving at the speed of light. Could I have completed the various climbs and obstacles faster without the congestion? Absolutely. Would it have made a huge difference? Dunno. I've got visions of going too fast and bonking. As it stands, this didn't happen, so maybe slower was better.
I did wish for more water and food. Carrying anything on this race is a bit dicey. Within 15 minutes my race number got ripped off on some obstacle, such that a camelback or similar piece of gear would undoubtedly get in the way. Similarly, how would I have felt about carrying and drinking out of a camelback that had been submerged in pond water and mud repeatedly during the day? Probably wouldn't have cared too much ... until the diarrhea hit. I've spoken to people who advise against carrying anything on these obstacle courses, but the Beast was longer and harder than any other I've heard of. There were 5 or 6 water stations, two of which had bananas. The stations were not particularly evenly spaced. The volunteers had no idea how far it was to the next station, but happily offered guesses anyways. Just for fun, the guesses were offered as if they were fact. Quite commonly you would hear "Only half a mile to the next aid station!", only to hit it somewhere between 2-3 miles later. Typically, I don't ask about this sort of thing. It's never a good idea to focus on anything other than the task immediately at hand. The only thing that matters is the 6 feet of dirt in front of you. When you plan for a summit, or a break, or an aid station, or whatever ... and it doesn't arrive ... and it doesn't arrive ... and it doesn't arrive ... well, this can be rather soul crushing. It's hard to run well when your soul is a big pit of blackness. All that matters is the 6 feet of dirt in front of you.
The obstacles were generally well spaced and creative. Several were downright mean, but entertaining nonetheless. The second obstacle involved lifting a couple of cinder-blocks by pulling a rope through a pulley. Heavy, but not really that difficult. Then came a rope net that went up and down over bar maybe 15 feet high. Slowed you down for a minute, but easy. On the way back down from the first climb we also hit a series of dirt piles that you had to go up and over with pools of waist deep mud in between. The piles were probably 12 feet high and there were roughly half a dozen of them. Again, entertaining, but not difficult.
Returning to the base, there was a plywood wall with pieces of 2x4 tacked to it that you had to traverse, similar to a rock-climbing wall. By the time I hit it, it was wet and muddy, and was the 1st obstacle that I thought was challenging. For any obstacle that you couldn't complete, you were tasked with 30 burpees. 30 burpees aren't hard, but after several hours of running, various obstacles, and dozens of burpees ... it gets painful. On the way back up the second time, the higher walls started. Standard military 8-10 foot walls that you had to jump up to and haul yourself over. Some of the walls had little foot-holds for those less adept at getting up them, and as they day wore on and fatigue set in, people started helping each other over them. These left me with bruises across my chest and biceps. There was also a series of log walls that had to be climbed with the assistance of a rope, but were generally not that hard.
Approaching midway, there was a balance obstacle that involved walking the two inch end of a series of 2x4's nailed together in a lightning-bolt pattern. By now, I had been on the course for an hour and a half or so, and what might have been fairly easy on any other day became rather difficult. My first burpees of the day ... the first of many. The balance beam was shortly followed by a crawl through mud & gravel, under barbed wire, for about 100 yards or so. Oh yeah, and the hoses again. This part got a bit interesting for me personally. The genes my parents so kindly passed on have seen fit to grace me with no ass whatsoever. Keeping your shorts on when combat-crawling through long distances of mud is tricky when your butt seems to be absent. Moving right along ... back up the mountain we went. Somewhere en route we hit an obstacle that involved filling a 5 gallon bucket 2/3 full of dirt & rock and then carrying it around a flagged course. And here is where I started flagging. I'll readily admit that my upper body strength sucks. Something to work on for next year, then.
After the bucket carry it was up to the summit to a billboard which instructed you to find a code which matched your bib number and memorize it. The code was a word and a series of 7 numbers. It was readily apparent that you would be asked about the code later, but the question was when? The placement of this particular obstacle was rather ingenious. The billboard was right as you summited the 2nd time, such that everyone was very fatigued. The billboard was then followed with a rope climb within a couple of hundred yards. Having to complete the rope climb made it difficult to focus on your code. Well played. And the rope climb ... more burpees for me, as 2/3 the way up the rope I fell off of my rope after pinching ... uh ... something significant. Turns out it's very difficult to do burpees when you're nauseated and in a cold sweat. Who knew?
Within a few minutes of the rope climb came another obstacle. This one was another balancing act requiring jumping from stump to stump over a space of probably 30 feet. Again, burpees. These burpees I embraced as I chose to completely skip the obstacle. At the time I arrived, there was a rather long wait to attempt the stump jump. After standing there for 5 minutes or so, it became apparent that the line was at least another 20 minutes long. Despite the fact that the obstacle didn't appear to be terribly difficult or strenuous for someone with legs as long as mine, I wasn't about to stand around for that long. I'm well aware that I'm not fast or any threat to competitors vying for top positions, but standing around and twiddling your thumbs during a race is just stupid. Quite a few others were making the same decision, and later I heard people complaining about this strategy. Comments were made suggesting that your effort didn't/shouldn't count if you don't at least attempt all of the obstacles, that it wasn't in the spirit of the race organizers' intent. While I would agree with the intent aspect of this argument, ultimately I don't agree and find these people to be whining. I highly doubt that the intent of the race organizers involved the participants standing around in long lines mid-race, either. The rules stipulated that if you did not complete an obstacle, you did 30 burpees. That's it. Choosing to go straight to burpees and cut 20 minutes off of your time is simply a better strategy. If there had been a short line or no line, I'd have jumped the stumps.
After the stump jump began an incredibly long single-track winding down the mountainside through the forest. I desperately wanted to run it, but couldn't, due to the never-ending string of people in front of me. Downhills on rough terrain are my forte', and it sucked having that taken away from me. I considered trying to skirt around people through the woods, but the risk of injury wasn't worth it. Had I been able to run here, I'm guessing I might have been able to get my total time to under 5 hours. Hard to say. Perhaps an earlier heat would've fixed both problems ... stump jump lines & logjams in the woods. Something else to consider for next year. When we FINALLY broke out of the woods onto a service road, it felt great to start running. It was at about this point most of the gym rats started to seriously gas and it was immensely pleasurable to cruise past them as they cramped up and cried on the side of the trail. I know. I'm childish sometimes.
Coming to the bottom of the resort for the second time was the first swim, a short and muddy pond. It was cold, but it felt good on my legs. Coming out of the pond, there was a big pile of 75 lb. sand bags. The obstacle was to pick one up and carry it up the mountain on another short course, probably half a mile or so. Fortunately, the sand bags were tubular, and fit quite nicely over a shoulder or across your neck. My neck was very sore for a couple of days, but it made this challenge much less painful than it could've been. Hauling this thing up and down a muddy trail on a ski slope was sketchy enough. Immediately after the sand bags, racers were tasked with pulling a rock filled sled around a gravel parking lot. Much easier than the sand bag. After the sled, volunteers asked for the code we were supposed to memorize. I was pleasantly surprised with myself, and despite my now addled state, recalled the code and avoided more burpees. And then ... drum roll ... back up the mountain! On this particular climb, there was a long tubular net that racers had to crawl through. I found this pointless and annoying. It wasn't challenging at all, but the gravel dug into your knees plenty.
After this third climb summited, we headed down again and hit a section of monkey bars. By this point, roughly 9 miles (4 hours) in, I was fried. My already questionable upper body strength was shot, and I fell again. Oh joy. More burpees. I did a bit of wailing and gnashing of teeth while watching people zip through the monkey bars as if they were playing patty-cake. On the upside, I'd been running to the point of exhaustion and beyond for some time now. Immediately after the monkey bars we were climbing again, such that I again had the opportunity to be childishly pleased to blow past all of the fitness magazine models crying about the trail and the mountains. Go home flatlanders.
This last climb was mercifully short, however, under 1000 feet. Back down we went, and by now I could hear the MC bellowing into his mic. At this point the ridiculous movie quotes began to sound like a choir of angels coming from above the clouds. Everyone was acutely aware that obnoxious half-naked Spartan MC dude was standing on the finish line. To hear him meant that the end was finally approaching. When we finally popped out of the woods, it was at the end of a much bigger pond. Into the cold muck we went. The pond was narrow, but perhaps a quarter-mile long, and the course ran the length of it. Again, I liked being in the water ... it felt good on legs that had been brutalized. This particular pond was full of nasty things lurking under the muddy water. Near the shore, there were stacks of big rocks and trees that bit into shins and knees. Further out, it got deep enough to swim. I didn't really mind the swim, but looking at the obstacle ahead, I was interested in conserving energy. I ended up going back and forth from wading to swimming ... not sure what the best tactic was here. The pond got deeper at the far end, and swimming became necessary. It led to a high bridge which traversed the pond on it's short axis, from which were hanging 4 rope ladders. The idea was to climb the ladders and then grab a horizontally hanging rope. To complete the obstacle, you would swing your legs up to catch the rope and traverse the rope perhaps 20-30 feet to a blue flag. It would be interesting to attempt this fresh, as I really am not sure how difficult it really was. Near the end of this particular race, however, it was REALLY hard. Most racers failed. I managed to get myself onto the rope and out about 2 feet when it became readily apparent that this was just not going to happen. So yeah, more burpees. Just to pour a little salt in the wound, they had you swim to the opposite side of the pond to do your burpees, rather than getting out at the near shore.
The race continued around the shore of the pond and up onto another ski slope for half a mile before the finish. A couple more obstacles remained, including a spear throw. The goal was to toss a spear and get it to stick into a haybale around 20 ft away. For whatever reason, I had the impression that this was going to take a lot of strength. I don't know why I had this idea, but I threw my spear way too hard. It struck the top of the dummy, bounced high into the air, and everybody in the vicinity scattered like mice. More burpees. Urgh. Shortly after the spear throw came a greased ramp that had to be ascended with a rope. Challenging, but not terrible. Coming down the backside of the ramp was a bit exciting as visions of compound fractures danced through my head. No sugar plums today. And then ... the end.
To cross the finish line required one more fire jump, and then a gauntlet of 3 more "Spartan Warriors" with pugil sticks (the staff with foam pads on both ends). These 3 fellows were tasked with beating any last bit of your body that wasn't already in pain. My strategy in this case was to break into a sprint and head straight for the guy in front. Either he moved or we collided hard. It worked rather well as it freaked him out and he got out of my way rather quickly. The two behind him didn't realize what was going on and I blew by without hardly getting touched. I'll be using this technique in the future. And so I finished. 5:24:13. Good grief. When I rolled through, I had absolutely no idea how long I'd been out there. I managed to finished 48th out of 167 men in my heat. Not too shabby for somebody who's generally on the slow side. Glancing through the published results, there were a significant number of people out there for 10+ hours ... hard for me to imagine. I would be curious to know how many bailed out at the 3 mile mark. The race organizers arranged a "dignified exit"at that point. They advertised over 2000 competitors, and it appears that around 1300-1400 finished, so it's possible that as many as 700 quit at mile 3. I would guess that a significant number of those were no-show's rather than DNF's, however, so it's hard to say.
Two things I did that I thought worked well and will definitely be repeating: 1) Taped my hands. I saw several people with gloves, obviously intended for the obstacles. I didn't have gloves, so I taped my hands as if I were going rock climbing. Much less cumbersome than the gloves, undoubtedly cooler, and it worked well. 2) Minimalist shoes. Aside from the basic benefits of this type of shoe, there were a number of very specific benefits to this race. You can swim relatively well in them, as opposed to regular running shoes. They are also much more nimble and stable on sketchy single-track downhill. This is quite helpful when you have a 75 lb sandbag on your back. Finally, they perform similarly to a rock shoe on the obstacles, which was quite nice when you're climbing a lot.
When all was said and done, I loved it. And I hated it. But mostly I loved it. I will definitely be back. It's too bizarre and entertaining not to have another go. And I will certainly be training harder. More mountains, more 5 hour runs. I bought a weight vest for hill climbs and will be doing some amount of upper body work as well, but not a lot.
