How far we've come

I'm not big on anniversaries. They always seem to forced, so artificial, to me. Then again, I'm also a sentimental person. I enjoy milestones. I enjoy reflecting on progress that has been made in a defined period of time. So, by that reasoning, maybe I should like anniversaries.

I'm overthinking it again.

I suppose I have an imperfect anniversary coming up this weekend: the Wisconsin Tough Mudder--the obstacle race that started it all for me. Imperfect, because it took place in July last year. So call it my "one-year and two month" anniversary into obstacle racing.

[Aside: holy hell, has it only been that long?! Perhaps it's because multiple 24+ hour races have taken years off my life, but I feel like I've been at it for much longer than a little over a year. Perhaps I should cool it on the 5-hr energy and N.O.-Xplode.]

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

DR 2012: Cheaters (and Brats) Never Prosper

As we began the 6hr drive back to Philly from Vermont, I broke out my legal pad and a pen and began to list all the tasks we completed in the 2012 Death Race. Despite having just spent 60 hours out in the woods of Pittsfield, VT, even then I had trouble recalling the sequence of events. And these past few days, my mind has been constantly churning over things that I think happened, things that I wish had happened, and things that I wish I had changed. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to come to terms with how I FEEL about my Death Race experience, and what it is that I'm taking away from it. This will probably end up being several posts as I distill the events over the next few days and weeks.

After the Winter Death Race, I wrote a post about how its easy and fun to be in the lead at the Death Race; the real test of strength and self, however, is when you have fallen (or feel like you've fallen) helplessly behind the leaders. Given my success at the WDR and CMC and other recent races, it's a feeling that was foreign to me, and one that I could only talk about in the abstract.

Until now.

Death Race by the Numbers

Total time to finish: 60 hours, 23 minutes
Place: 2nd female

# people wearing non-black shirts: 1

Total approximate distance covered: 50-70 miles (depending on who you talk to)
Clif bars consumed: 8

The Betrayal Has Begun

When I signed up for the Death Race back in December, I remember talking to a previous Death Race finisher and asking about the race.

"What is it?" I inquired.

"A complete mindfuck," he said.

Crossfit + Obstacles = Combine Love

When you take three of my current obsessions (Crossfit, obstacles, and hills) and roll them up into one race, I may start foaming at the mouth out of excitement. And as we surveyed the PIT early last Saturday morning at Civilian Military Combine up in Camelbak Mountain, PA, I could feel the buzz in the air.

S.E.R.E. Urban: Chicago is a Dangerous Place

You know you want to touch

 I've spent the last few days trying to figure out practical uses for my shiny new KA-Bar,* spoils of being crowned "Top Team" at S.E.R.E. Chicago this past weekend. I typically display my race schwag on my desk at work, but somehow I think that a 7-inch knife wouldn't go over too well and may result in losing my job even more quickly than I'm probably on track to lose it. So far, I've discovered that the KA-Bar is excellent for eating apples and opening the numerous Amazon boxes I get every week (GEARWHORE), and is just so-so serving as a steak knife. It does make for a great rendition of Psycho in the shower, though I wouldn't recommend it for getting out splinters. But enough about knife uses.