#90; grunts, grins and Spartans.

This morning I ran out of words. They were replaced by grunts, sighs and cheers. That’s what a Spartan Hurricane does to you, I suppose. In the early hours of the morning, while most of Sydney slumbered, 750 Spartans showed up to work hard, and their definition of “working hard” was quickly readjusted as endless burpees were pushed out, heavy sandbags were slung over sore shoulders for 30 minutes, and oh my, it was glorious to behold!

I found myself carrying someone around a marked out route, and as we trudged along, I noticed her hat bore the emblem of a group of South Westies that I love dearly. It was nice to know that the community there is growing, and that they’re so tough that they can take on the Hurricane.

Rob the Nest was reinvented as sandbags replaced balls and burpee penalties happened for each time you got tagged with a sandbag. I marvelled at the huge pile one team had, until I realised they had two elite athletes on their side and it all made sense. Or maybe there’s some sort of magic in that pink tutu…

Ropes used to be a friendly sort of sight. They would be used to make clothes lines, or tie down tarps on trailers. Sometimes they even helped you climb up or down walls. But that was before I met power ropes. These suckers are heavy, and have a grip on each end. We took 20 second turns doing different exercises with them, and those were some long seconds. In between, body weight exercises happened. Burpees. Oh my.

On Saturday I helped fill 200 sandbags. I carried one of those for half an hour and would like to sincerely apologise for overfilling them. Maybe. Actually, no I’m not sorry. It was epic. Half an hour with it tossed over my shoulders. Running, squatting, pressing. Of course, a calf injury played up and slowed me right down, but alas, it’s yet another reminder to go get it checked out by a physio.

The highlight of my weekend, surprisingly, isn’t burpees or sandbags. It’s people. In sessions like today, and in obstacle races in general, you see people at their best and their worst. You see them struggle, fall, and get up again. You see them carry each other. You see them cheer for people they’ve never met. You watch them grunt and swear when they fail, then grunt and swear and grin when they succeed.

This morning I ran out of words, but now that I found them again, I thought I needed to let you know that this morning, I fell a bit more in love with the obstacle racing community. And am thinking a sandbag should be purchased sometime soon…


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