Why I Run Obstacle Course Races
“Into the happy night, in secret seen of none, nor saw I ought, without or other light or guide, save that which in my heart did burn”
I first realized how obstacle course racing was changing me on a hellish day in October. The moment is as clear to me today as it was then. It was the final 2 miles of the Ohio Spartan Beast; an obstacle course race in Eastern Ohio held every year as part of a series of races to complete the coveted Spartan Trifecta. If the company's founder Joe DeSena could have played god and picked the perfect weather for a race this would have been it. As if the race spanning over fourteen miles of rugged terrain dotted with more than 25 physically demanding obstacles wasn't tough enough, mother nature added her own obstacle; 35 degree temperatures, with winds at about 10 miles per hour and intermittent rain and sleet. I was in the middle of the barbed wire crawl. A relatively simple torture device with strings of barbed wire run about 18 inches off the ground that forces you to belly crawl in whatever ground covering is available. Usually gravel or mud.
Every muscle in my body hurt. It was hard to breathe. I was cold, wet, and bleeding laying face down in the dirt. I couldn't stand up because of the barbed wire running across my back. My elbows were cut from the gravel I'd been crawling through for what felt like eternity. The inside of my mouth was chalky and I could feel the grit of dirt between my teeth that had been kicked in my face my the person in front of me. "I can't do this anymore". I don't know if I thought it or said it out loud, so I stopped moving, put my head down, and close my eyes. I was alone. No cheerleaders. No support. No one was going to help me through this. I wasn’t competing for any prizes or placement. No one cared if I finished or not. I could roll over, skip the last couple of miles, walk off the course, and no one would notice. Again the thoughts came in “I can’t do this anymore”. I've told this story before and every time I get the same look that I'm sure is on your face right now. It's a look of complete bewilderment usually followed by “why would you do that?”
At the time I was struggling in every area of my life. I had a good job with an excellent employer, but I hated my job. I had been with the company 12 years and in the same position for about 5 years. When I had started I had high hopes and ambition. Yet despite my experience, education, and skills it had been made clear to me I was at a dead end with my career there. I simply didn't have the political connections, or "Impact" as I was told, to move up. In my spiritual life, my connection and community at my church was waning. It wasn’t a lack of faith, but a clear disconnect between who and what I saw God’s ministry on earth and the corrupted manipulations of a sinful man to those plans. Then add in that at 33 my doctor told me I was prehypertensive. If I didn’t work on getting my blood pressure under control I’d need medication in the upcoming years. When you’re life isn’t balanced by one or two of those elements, it seems like the world is a mess. I was out of whack in all three: spiritual, physical, and professional. And I was unbearable at home as a result.
All of that came washing over me as I laid in the dirt. I cried. I felt the tears roll down my face into the dirt as I thought I had no control over my life. I felt like I had nothing to show for any amount of work I had put in. And here I was failing again. But this time it wasn’t about anybody else but me. I signed up for this race. I got up at 5am to drive 2 hours to do something I had never done before. I had already come 11 miles in driving rain, skin biting sleet, and howling wind without anyone’s help. My statement changed to a question “do I want to do this”. The world came back into focus. I looked up and there was a course volunteer next to me kneeling down “Sir are you okay?”. In that moment I realized I was okay. In that moment I was alive. Not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally. I had strength inside me that I didn’t know what there. A strength no one else can give you or take away. “Yes, just taking a moment to soak it all in” I replied to the volunteer.
I believe that everyone needs a moment in life where everything is stripped away and you must face yourself. You must come to grips with the fact that shit happens. No one will take care of you, but you. And if you set aside all of the distractions, are forced to look at yourself and ask "who am I and what do I want to accomplish" you will discover who you were meant to be. I talk with people all the time about obstacle course races and they always second guess themselves. I can’t do that, it’s too hard. I get it. I was there in the dirt telling myself that life was too hard and that I had no ability to do anything about it but roll over and let it defeat me. What I realized in that moment is that your life is so much more than that. No one can take away what makes you strong. I’ve been on courses and watched 300 pound men and women climb over an eight foot wall. I’ve watched individuals with cerebral palsy fight through the mud, dragging their crutches with them. And I’ve seen amputees climb a 15 foot rope. When you find that internal strength of character the rest of the world is just nonsense. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a CEO or a burger flipper. When you face an obstacle and overcome it, you can throw your head back and scream into the wind “I’m a bad motherf@$%er and nothing can defeat me”. Up until that moment in the dirt and gravel I had never been tested in that way. I had never been forced to dig into my own soul for strength. And I realized that there was more there than I knew.
If it wasn't for obstacle course racing I wouldn't be where I'm at today. Little did I know when I set foot on my first obstacle course at the 2012 Ohio Warrior Dash that my life would never be the same again. Obstacle course racing has become my therapist to keep me sane, my pastor to rejuvenate my soul, my personal trainer to push my limits, and my community where everyone is cheered, helped, coached, and celebrated no matter what your ability, ethnicity, denomination, or political affiliation. It's moved me into a new career and the best job I've ever had, connected me with my family, and in many ways saved my life. But how can running through mud and climbing over walls do all of that? It's simple, it's not about the mud and obstacles, it's so much more.
