Tapping Into the Core of Me

Much to my surprise nearly a decade ago I participated in my first big obstacle race. The first of two Tough Mudders (and I did a Spartan for good measure). It wasn’t something I ever thought of myself doing back then, until a friend decided she wanted to lose weight and her goal was to complete a TM. She dragged a group of us into her goal and I found myself committing to it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. In the end she didn’t do the race but the rest of us did. Somewhat unexpectedly I found I loved it. When the event came back the following year, I was happy to jump right back into that starting pit.

Then it all went kind of pear shaped.

We were going to do this event with the same group of people as the first year, with our friend included this time. Just before the event she again pulled out as did her hubby and the team fell apart so to speak. Another couple of team members told me not to worry they had it covered. I wasn’t convinced but there weren’t a lot of options.

Turned out they did have covered – sort of. The people they brought in to fill up the team were their cross-fit buddies. So now I was the oldest, the least fit and didn’t know most of the team. I wasn’t going to pull out though, I’d done a bunch of training for it and I’d paid for the ticket with no ability to get a refund – I am pretty tight with my cash. So, I rocked up to the start line like I’d planned.

You might think these changes wouldn’t affect much, after all I’d already completed one TM.

You’d be wrong.

Psychologically this was the most grueling of the races I’d done, not the physically hardest though there was some of that which I’ll get to later, but definitely the most mentally tough.

It didn’t take me long to fall behind, not far mind but then it didn’t have to be for my mind to kick in with its games. ‘Give up, you’re not fit enough, you don’t belong, they don’t want you here, you’re letting the team down.’

Now understand this wasn’t the teammates old or new, this was just in my mind. In fact the cross-fit coach was great about dropping back to check in with me and I don’t know how many times I said to him, the others and myself, ‘I’m good, I’m not dead yet.’

This never quit spirit is at the very heart of me. I am damn headstrong when it comes down to it. I don’t like to let things get the better of me, whether it is depression or circumstances. For a long time I have battled self-esteem and mental health issues. I am fortunate that I have a level of anxiety and depression that is pretty much manageable. I understand my mind fairly well by now. I know how to work through the downs, and ride out the insecurities.

It’s draining though, fighting those voices.

Here I was in the midst of a very physical activity – which was usually a good way for me to combat those voices, but now they were screaming louder than ever. All I had in that moment was my grit, my ability to put one foot in front of the other and my new mantra – I’m not dead yet.

My teammates would stop for a drink and a breather and I’d catch up, grab my drink on the move and keep going. I wouldn’t be ahead of them for long, but that was how I managed not to fall too far behind. I tried every obstacle, not walking around a single one, even when my teammates did. Then I came to Everest – the quarter pipe, (or warped wall for Ninja Warrior fans). On my first run my hand touched that of my teammate, but it wasn’t a good enough grip and I slipped. Still, I tried again, this time crashing down heavily on my shoulder.

As a result, I couldn’t raise my arm past vertical and had no grip strength in that hand. This was my out, no-one would have begrudged me, or thought any less of me, or called me a quitter. Then there was that little voice, ‘see I told you so, what make you think you can do this. Fortunately, there was a louder voice saying, ‘I’m not dead yet.’

I dug down deep and persevered. Some obstacles I could no longer do, as I couldn’t put any weight on that arm. It didn’t stop me. Every obstacle I could conceivably do I did. Even climbing up a ladder using only one arm, so I could slide through fire. I also did the ice bath and the electroshock at the end, both obstacles others skipped.

I finished the course, got my headband, and knew I’d beaten my demons yet again. No matter how exhausted I felt, I knew it was a victory.

That day was a lesson I still hold onto and use in my life. No matter how much things hurt, or it looks like things plain stink, I tell myself ‘I’m not dead yet.’

Some days my victories are easy to see, other days it’s in the few sentences I manage to scratch out in a last-ditch effort not to let it beat me for the whole day. There are also some days too, where I have to remind myself that we all deserve a day off, where the victory is simply getting into bed so you can get up the next day.