It’s when my face will be red, when my legs will be tired, when my sportsbra will be put to the test, and when my feet will probably be yelling at me: “hey dumbass … you should have bought those Dr. Scholls insoles whether or not you had the coupon,” … this is where my Guatemalan Warrior is put to the test … In the middle and near the end of the race.
This is when the Rocky theme music plays in my head. This is when my second wind kicks in, although I don’t know why the second one was invented you should just have one that lasts. This is when running two miles every day for the past month conditions me to persevere. This is when I see myself in slow motion, in a Gatorade commercial, black and white, a single perspiration drop rolling on the side of my face, with the narrator saying “Do you have it in you?”…
Hell to the yes!
The obstacles this time: nets. Climbing and crossing them, both challenging for a professional faller-downer like myself, but for some reason I’m feeling pretty confident.
The Chaotic Crossover requires that I “crawl across tangled nets,” in a sort of low-to-the-ground Spider-Man warm-up obstacle, if he ever warms up before fighting crime. It’s a place where I can clearly lose my New Balance running shoes, if I’m not concentrating, and get my foot tangled in that web, providing a serious traffic jam for my fellow warriors.
The Cargo Climb allows me to “maneuver over cargo nets” in a pretty tall man-made structure. This one I fear, a little. Not so much the climb up, but the way down. Like a roller coaster at Six Flags … you’re all hyped on the way up, but when you know you have to come down that’s when butterflies flutter.
It’s the falling thing, or the get-your-foot-caught-in-the-net-thing and still continue to fall … well dangle as others just continue to climb around me. But I’m sure there are good Samaritans in the race.
Good athletes have a code … “never leave a man behind”. If you can help, you do. Is it a competition? Yes. But it’s not the Olympics, so I’m sure there will be some broke down athletes at various locations and if I could I help detangle someone I would. I just hope someone else would do the same. If they stroll on by laughing at me, I know they weren’t athletes back in the day … probably cheerleaders.