DR Recovery: At Sea

A funny thing happened over the past few weeks. I've had post after post started concerning the Death Race, yet I couldn't finish any of them. There were things I wanted to talk about: the concrete bag, the ravine (dear God, the ravine), yet it all seemed too forced, too fake. And I had no desire to write a book recapping the entire 60 hours.

No caption necessary

In other words, I'm on Death Race burn out. And I'm over talking about it, or thinking about. Or even worse, thinking about the 2013 Death Race. There are already over 200 people signed up for it (what. the. hell.), and the chatter about the "Year of the Gambler" has already started with a vengeance on the Death Race FB group.

Meh. mehmehmehmehmeh.

Cleaning the pack as
part of the "over it"
process

Don't get me wrong, I love the Death Race. I do. And perhaps I'm grieving the year long wait until the next one, but these past few weeks I've been all out of sorts. I feel like I'm spinning without a purpose. And readjusting back to "normal" life (sans DR-prep) has been tedious.

Physically, I'm fine. I got back into the Crossfit box two days after the race, the feet are healed (aside from an unrelated toe injury suffered while intoxicated this past weekend), and I'm feeling as strong as ever. The DR failed to beat me physically (eat it, Andy & Joe). But mentally, I'm still not all there.

I suppose I'm in a different situation than a lot of my fellow obstacle racers that have a summer chock full of races. For me, the DR was the "end" of my season: the culmination of a busy winter/spring that started with World's Toughest Mudder in December and hit SERE(x2), the WDR, GoRuck, Tough Mudder, and Civilian Military Combine along the way. Granted, it's been a hell of a ride: 2nd female at WTM, 1st female and 3rd overall at WDR, 1st female and 1st overall at CMC, and 2nd female at the Death Race. And now I face down the summer without any races scheduled in the foreseeable future. In place of races are a string of weddings.

And I hate it. I mean, post-DR I said I was relieved, and excited to get back to "normalcy": a life without a race every other weekend, without constant gear-whoring, without constant chatter about race prep, without a crazy training schedule hauling packs of bricks up 40 flights of stairs.

I lied. I totally lied. Because I'm lost as hell, and looking for the next thing.

Weight vests are the things that make
me happy now.
Photo courtesy of  Brendan Ziegler

Yes, I know there are plenty of races out there this summer/fall. Unfortunately, friends aren't too keen on me skipping their weddings to go run through mud. Conflicts abound, and I hate it. Every race I want to attend (including the glorious Ultra Beast that I get depressed thinking about missing) has a dear friend pledging their eternal love to some poor schmuck (kidding! love you guys) on that same weekend.*

So yes, it's a contradiction: I'm burnt out on DR-stuff, but I'm yearning to jump back into that world at the same time (acknowledging, of course, that standard Spartan Races and Tough Mudders are apples and oranges to the DR).

So what do I do? I wake up, I go to Crossfit, I go to work, I hang out, I play volleyball at the beach. But I'm trying to find that passion that drove me all winter/spring long. Without something to train for, I'm spinning my wheels.

Perhaps it will become clear in time. Perhaps I need this break. Perhaps I will drive myself loony. But for the time being, I suppose I should try to be "normal."

*Weddings are blessed events, I swear. To my friends getting married, there's nowhere I'd rather be than getting wasted at your wedding, inappropriately hitting on your younger brother/cousin/sister in law/priest, and making a fool of myself on the dance floor. It's just shitty luck in terms of scheduling.