Change is Good: New Website

Someone decided to convince me to become (a tiny) bit more technologically savvy, so you can now find my updated website (and blog, whenever I get around to blogging again) over at:

ameliabooneracing.com

RIP, RIL.

The Book of Ultra: The Georgia Death Race

Obstacle racing has been fantastic.

But last fall (fresh off of knee surgery), I was looking for something different. A new challenge, a new venture. Having made a brief foray into competitive CrossFit at Regionals last year, I realized that lifting heavy things for just a few minutes at a time probably wasn't my wheelhouse. So when I sat down to think about what I love the MOST about OCR, I realized it's running up and down mountains (or the Death Race, where all I wanted to do was hike up and down Bloodroot endlessly).

So why not try something where I'm doing just that? Let's write a new chapter, a new book. And call it The Book of Ultra.

On being broken, rehab and recovery

Before I begin, let me preface that I am not a medical professional and hold no qualifications or certifications (even meaningless ones where you pay one thousand bucks for a t-shirt), and the last anatomy class I took was a 3 week unit in 9^th grade biology. I am, however, a lawyer, so I know I need to cover my ass because inevitably someone may rely on this shit. So what I’m saying here is solely based on my own personal experiences, observations, and the ever trust-worthy interwebs. Follow at your own risk.

8 weeks before WTM

Injury is an inevitable part of being an athlete. It feels kind of weird to say that, for two reasons: (1) I’ve never really considered myself “an athlete”, and (2) up until about a year ago, aside from a few broken bones growing up, I’ve never really been injured. Hurt, yes – but never a diagnosable injury that has taken me out of training for more than a week or two at a time.

Within a week of turning 30 (so stereotypical, I know), the wheels began to come off. 2014 was a year of recovery/rehab from one injury, only to lead to another injury, probably resulting from compensating from the previous injury. Frustrating, to say the least.

So when people ask me how I came back so quickly from knee surgery to win World’s Toughest Mudder, I tell them – LOTS of practice. Like any sport or skill, I’d like to think you can get really good at rehab.  While a lot of it has been through trial and error (I still have a problem finding a good balance), but I’ve learned a fair number of things along this rehab journey.

Coming Home: World's Toughest Mudder 2014

The most fun you've had? Oh yes

There are times in life when things just feel right. When you know you are where you are supposed to be.

And as soon as I pulled up to the site of World's Toughest Mudder 2014 in Lake Las Vegas last Friday, I knew it was one of those times.

Hugging old friends, meeting new ones, we all anxiously set up our pits areas, commenting on how the Vegas desert was the FURTHEST thing from Raceway Park in Jersey that we had all grown accustomed to over the past few years. Excitement ran high. We were ready to begin.

But 8 weeks ago, I didn't think I would be there in Vegas, preparing to race. 8 weeks ago, I was mourning the loss of running the Spartan World Championship, and undergoing surgery on a bum knee. I had mentioned to my surgeon that I would love to make it back in time for a "24 hour race," and he rolled his eyes.

See, when the surgeon told me "return to sport" in 8 weeks, he meant "go play a basketball game," not "run around in circles in the desert for 24 hours." Sorry doc - can't help the sport I chose, and technically, you didn't qualify your statement. With that in mind, however, I came in cautious, mentally prepping myself for the fact that I might have to pull the plug. That the moment the knee started hurting, I needed to call it. I questioned how much conditioning and endurance I had lost being laid up for a good portion of those 8 weeks. I doubted whether my ego could take that (as I'm sure the others did around me). But regardless of how far I could make it, I knew I needed to be at WTM. Having missed last year with injury, the thought of missing another gutted me more than I could ever imagine.

But come WTM morning, it was all smiles and laughs. Surgeries, injuries, and disappointments were far from my mind as we started out. I try and learn something from every race, and over those next 24 hours, a few things became clear to me:

Willingness to Suffer

Might as well look good doing it

The typical interview question will go something like this: "So why do you think you are successful in obstacle racing?"

It's a question that has given me pause, and has stumped me for as long as I've been hurdling over walls and throwing myself under barbed wire. I typically will stumble through it with some answer about a mixture of speed and strength, and how you need both in obstacle racing.

The Way Back

It's been a hibernation kind of winter here in Chicago.

And for most of it, I've buried my head in the sand. Thrown myself into work (lawyering like a BOSS), rehab (so many Jane Fondas...), and recovery (which means rest. Which blows). And football, of course (Thanks Seahawks for salvaging an otherwise miserable winter. #LOB baby).

Injured Reserve

I hate it when cliches are true: one moment, you feel like you are on top of the world, and the next - things coming crashing down. And you sit and struggle with "why me" and kick and scream and fight, thinking timing is never fair.

Such is my life right now. I've been mum on this subject as of late, laying low on social media, hoping/thinking things would resolve, ashamed to admit what I hate to admit to myself: I'm hurt.

As someone who has been fortunately injury-free for a long time, it's been devastating. Compound that with my calf injury pre-Spartan World Championships, I've been hesitant to let people know about the injury for fear of what other people think (I'll call it "FOWOPT." Deal with it). But you can only go so hard for so long until something has to give. And it gave, at a horrible time (admittedly, there is never a "good" time).

One Year Later: Spartan Race Championships

If there is one thing I learned from the Reebok Spartan Race World Championships this past weekend, it's that you can EASILY get rope burn through clothing.

Tyrolean Traverse
Photo credit: Scott Keneally

Ok, I might have learned more. But that was, by far, the most painful lesson. Tegaderm is now my friend.

It's been a year since the first Spartan Championships, and it was undeniable how things have changed. It was evident not only from the caliber of athletes that showed up this year, but even the feel and mood surrounding the race with the cameras and press and hoopla. While I laughed and joked with other racers and tried to appear calm, I'm pretty awful at hiding my nerves.

The Push for Legitimacy

At my grandma's 90th birthday party following the Pacific Northwest Spartan Sprint, I found myself
in a conversation with a family friend, who I hadn't seen in years, trying to explain the race I had just run that morning. Granted, I'm not known for being able to express coherently when speaking (yes yes, and I'm an attorney...bla bla bla), but I found myself saying things like this:

"So it's a trail race, typically pretty hilly, and you have a few dozen obstacles on the way - climbing over walls, crawling under barb wire, dragging tires, etc."

His response: "So kind of like steeplechase?"

Death Race Truths*

 *for me. (like I would proclaim universal truths. pshaw)

(1) The Death Race isn't fair

Andy and Joe should really keep a running tally of the number of times racers complain "but this isn't FAIR." Newsflash, buttercup: NOTHING about the DR is fair. In fact, it's designed to be completely and totally unfair, in every manner possible.

Easy wood to chop. Not pictured: young birch.
Not easy to chop.

Sometimes you win with this unfairness, sometimes you lose. If Joe and Andy know your name, then sometimes you are screwed. Other times, it can work in your favor. I happened to have a number of "unfair" things that happened to me this race, and some of them were favorable. For example, my rock group - Group 8, got a SWEET section of the trail. Long, but gently sloping. We had smaller stones, and we had to carry them downhill, not up. In fact, a lot of our section was landscaping, and not heavy grunt work. I heard others were complaining about how easy we had it. Yes, it sucked that your section, Group 1 or 9 or whatever, was that much harder, and yes, it's totally unfair. But it was beyond your control, and it was beyond my control. So you take these "gifts" when you get them, and realize that it may come back and bite you in the ass later. (such as, when I got stuck chopping green birch logs. Awful. Absolutely awful.) Or, as another example, Joe didn't make me carry a massive rock over Bloodroot. He could have, but he didn't. Was that unfair? Perhaps. But would I have quit had he give me one? No.

Because that's where you put the nail in your DNF coffin -when you let the "unfairness" of the race get into your head and you mentally take yourself out of it.

2013 Summer Death Race By the Numbers

(for comparison, refer back here)

Wood chopped: less than usual

Participants registered: 390
Participants that started the race: 206
Finishers: 41
Finishers that received all 8 chips as of 6am Monday morning ("first wave finishers"): 21
Female finishers: 4

World's Toughest Mudder 2013: and it won't change a thing?

Found this the other day
cleaning out my office. I should
really clean my office more often.

World's Toughest Mudder registration went live two weeks ago, and judging from the Facebook and social media reaction, you would have thought TMHQ had punched a baby. 

"NO qualification process?!?" seemed to be the resounding outcry. Hundreds (read, in reality: dozens) of
affronted people, worried that the race wouldn't be "elite" enough, or that the out-of-shape masses would crowd Raceway Park in New Jersey, leaving the finishers to step over frozen bodies littered around the course after 24 hours. I skimmed the new changes, and the only thing that came to mind was "meh".

The Trouble with Chicking

As I passed a group of guys at the sandbag carry during the Indiana Spartan Sprint this past weekend, I heard "Are you kidding? She's passing us. A girl. Fuuuuuuuuuck."

Yay me, right? Woo women! Go chicks! How empowering and badass and wonderful!

So why did it feel so horrible? And why did it bother me throughout the race, and still bothers me, almost a week later?

Because "chicking" shouldn't be a big deal.

Meels on Wheels

During P.E. class in fifth grade, we timed our 100m dash in the parking lot of good ol' Palisades School.

I finished last in my class of 30.

Dead last.

Which I couldn't understand. I was an athletic kid. I played club level traveling soccer and ASA softball. I ran the hell out of the soccer field for 90 minutes at a time; I was the all-star pitcher on our champion little league team.

But for the life of me, I could not sprint. I was sloooooooow.*

Walking a Tightrope

A conversation that happened with a couple in my apartment building the other day:

Man: "Excuse me, but I have to ask, are you a trainer? My wife and I always see you in work out gear, and you are in great shape."

Me: "ha, no - I'm an attorney."

Man [unnecessarily flummoxed]: "Really? Oh, we were going to ask you to train us."

My reaction to this was initially to be flattered, but then I though, HOLD UP - does that mean that I always look like a slob in warm ups and headbands? This thought was then followed by "shit, maybe I missed my calling."

The First DNF

Two years ago, the letters "DNF" meant nothing to me. Nor did the letters "DNS." Despite running some road races, I'd never really heard the terms thrown around. I'd never known the stigma attached to them, or the feelings that come with it.

And I continued to not know, until this weekend.

Coming Back as a Veteran

The racing season hasn't exactly started off with a bang. After missing the Spartan SoCal due to weather and air traffic control (thanks Philly!), I'm now faced with an unpleasantly cold Winter Death Race.

Well, that's what I signed up for, right? Fair point. Last year the Winter Death Race was held a month later--beginning of March, and it was a particularly balmy weekend (need I remind you of the sports bra burpee pics? No. Thank God. Because I can't get over those either). I went in scared out of my mind, with no idea what to expect.

A Racing Year in Review: The Tippity Top

So the world didn't end today, though judging by the looks of the weather outside here in Chicago, it may still choose to do so. I guess that means that we'll make it to 2013 and another year of racing will commence. The end of the year is always littered with the "best of", "year in review" or the "top 10" lists from various outlets, my favorite being this one from The Onion. So if a lemur can have its place in a year in review list, I sure as hell can write my own about my racing year. Right? Right? Obviously, all of these highlights will involve yours truly, so call me self-important or egotistical, but I certainly can't write about it if I wasn't there, so deal with it. Without further ado, the inaugural 2012 "Amelia's Top 16 Moments in Obstacle/Adventure Racing"* (and challenges, to encompass GoRuck and S.E.R.E.)

[*Because Top 10 lists are so cliche.]

WTM Commandments Revisited: One Year Later

You all can blame WTM 2011 for me entering into the blogosphere. It's because of that race that you feel obliged to read my unimportant and trivial ramblings. Post-WTM last year, I sat down a wrote four posts on the Ten Commandments of WTM (you can find them here, here, here, and here).

Finally had no problems
with the rings

But this year's race was a whole different animal than last year. So did these Commandments hold up? Or, now, in my infinite wisdom (after being at this for less than a year), have I committed sacrilege by violating my own commandments?

Day After World's Toughest Mudder Hangover

No, not like booze hangover. I wish. Back to work, back to the grind, and thanking the higher powers I'm a desk jockey. Sitting is the only thing that doesn't kill me right now. I need a dog to go fetch my print jobs from the copier.

I always like to mull over races for a few days to let it all sink in and organize my thoughts, so that will happen at some point.

But let's get to the not-so-important and meaningful things: the "random thoughts" edition. So in no particular order: