Spartan spirit

Not that kind.  This kind:

When I made my New Year's resolutions back in January, one of the goals I set myself was to run a Spartan Race.  For those of you unfamiliar, it's an obstacle race that combines various distances of trail running with crazy obstacles like climbing walls, crawling through mud under barbed wire and jumping over flames.  I had actually signed up for one last year on the recommendation of a friend, but for the first time ever in my life I'm ashamed to say that I backed out on a race.  With all that had been going on with our infertility and my DOR diagnosis, I just hadn't had the energy to work out and was in no way prepared for the punishment that the race was sure to unleash on my body.

This year is different.  This year I've stuck to my workout plan like a demon and am actually feeling like I'm in pretty good shape.  I've dropped a few pounds since January, but more importantly I've gotten a lot of cardio endurance back and have been working on adding some strength training as well.  I am fully intending on running this thing.  And I'm doing the Spartan Sprint, which is the easiest one at a distance of only 5k with 15-ish obstacles.  But I have to say...I'm still scared shitless.

The race is coming up this Saturday.  I tried to convince M to sign up with me, but he's been recovering from a leg injury and doing some physiotherapy and just isn't feeling up to it yet.  He's promised to make the 1.5 hour drive to Barrie with me to cheer me on, but it won't be the same as having him with me in the race where we can encourage each other if the obstacles start to freak us out.  I know race environments are usually really fun and strangers cheer one another on, but it just won't be the same doing it by myself.

That said...this thing is gonna happen.  I am gonna go there, get muddy and sweaty, and I'm coming home with my participant medal.  Or a disfiguring injury.  Or both.  If anyone has run one of these things and lived to tell the tale, I'm all ears.