The #SpartanRace was one of the more challenging things I’ve done (willfully) in my life.
I have a whole new perspective on what the following words mean:
They opened the race shouting “The old you will be shed off.”, and that’s exactly what you’re seeing in this photo. It literally felt like my skin was coming off my muscles as I crawled through the sticks and mud barely missing the barbed wire.
However with every cut and bruise I encountered, I didn’t mind the mud. In fact, I looked forward to the pits of mud and slush. It meant I was progressing. Although the cuts didn’t hurt less, I began to realize that most of the pain at the point was mental. To see others along side me going through the same trenches, gave me hope. Eventually EVERYONE made it across the line, helping each other along the way where they could.
Every person had to pull their own weight, if they didn’t they held up others who would then begin to push you forward, verbally and physically.
Being clean, no longer mattered.
Our only objective was to finish the race.
At the very end we had to pass through fire, having been refined. The warmth from the flames met our cold hardened bodies, and did not damage. It was almost as if we were immune to it, because of the mud.
There were no freebies.
It did not come cheap.
Fear of resistance lead to longer paths to the same route.
And there was no turning back without utter shame.
We signed up for this. It was more than we signed up for. Nevertheless, we were IN.
Upon crossing the line, we were greeted with family and friends who had watched from the sidelines.
Some to praise, some to criticism for taking so long.
I wanted to ask the skeptics “Where were you?”
But it didn’t matter.
If our muddied clothes and bloodied bodies didn’t say anything…
Our awards did.
I write this to encourage you.
The naysayers will say what they will.
Finish the race.
I have seen something else under the sun: The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong…
- Ecclesiates 9:11