So this weekend, I took a break from fashion. To be honest, I took a break from sanity, and I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun.
A few months ago, I signed up to do the Spartan Sprint in Malibu with my trainer and a few others from my gym. Not only did I sign up, but I signed up for the Hurricane Heat, which takes place at 5:00am.
At dawn on Saturday morning, I ran. I ran with a team of 36 and we completed a 5-mile obstacle course together. I swam through a pond in all of my clothes, crawled through not one, but two drain pipes, carried a blindfolded team-mate though a swamp, jumped over a fire pit, climbed up a purposely greased up wall, and crawled under the world’s longest barbed-wire crawl while some douche bag sprayed me down with a fully pressurized fire hose. I did this all before 8 in the morning.
It was physically demanding, sure, but I’ve trained hard for months. Physically, I could do it all. But what I didn’t realize that I was facing my largest mental and emotional challenge in a long, long time.
There came a point, during the very last obstacle (the damned barbed wire crawl), where I had to make a choice: pull myself together, deal with the pain, finish, OR quit. I chose to finish. Soaking wet, freezing, bruised beyond recognition, I chose to finish, because that is what Spartans do. That is what I do.
Annnndddd… the aftermath, this morning:
… and I’ve got more on the other leg to match. Not to mention the scratches on my elbows, shoulders, and stomach.