On Sunday 18TH November 2018; I completed the Bright Spartan Ultra; in a time of 12hours and 58 minutes. 50 Kilometres and 60 obstacles. 13 hours prior I had stood at the startline with 261 fellow Spartans. 67 of us officially made it across the line, 7 of those were females. The time was 7.58pm.
When I signed up to the Ultra, it was a decision that came from many places. It was an event I had not done, it was an event that terrified me but excited me and it was an opportunity to train like I had never done before. As a Personal Trainer and Obstacle Course Racer I have trained for many events and staying strong and healthy is part of my life. I knew that signing up to the Ultra would be unique to these previous experiences though. It would require my undivided attention to training. It would require me to reconsider my nutrition and it would require me to begin endurance training, which I had never done before.
For five months the training was literally relentless. I asked myself over and over why I was doing this and until race day, it never truly became clear. I hired a team of expert professionals to assist me in my journey. A Running Coach, Myotherapist and a Sports Clinic. Many may read this list and think it sounds a little insane. What I can tell you though, is that Endurance Racing is insane. And if you genuinely want a good shot at completing these races; asking for help from the experts is what will make the difference between crossing the line and not.
There was a tremendous juggle of time. Running a business, being a Mum, Training 10-12 sessions a week and “life” in the middle was a lot. I was tired, all the time. There were 430am starts a few times a week to ensure the impact on the family was minimal. There were days I hated it and days I loved it. Dark, cold and wet mornings sometimes made me feel like a badass and sometimes they just made me feel like I was an idiot. There were days I felt like Wonder Woman and there were days I could barely muster the energy to walk. Days my conditioning program saw me lifting and sprinting and days where I was so tired I programmed a 45 minute session on the mat, so I didn’t have to get up once! There were many toasted sandwiches and two minute noodles for the kids dinner, there were hours that I slept on the couch while they played. There were parties I missed and there were friends that I lost.
I also realized very quickly that there is indeed enough hours in all our days to do whatever it is you want to do. The word ‘priority’ became quite poignant during this time. I made it a priority to get that training in. I made it a priority to eat well. I made it a priority to get up when the alarm went off. There was of course always a choice not to train. There were many times I desperately looked for an excuse. Each time I chose. And the choice always came down to my priority. My priority was the race. Therefore the choices I made, reflected this. ‘I don’t have time’ is a choice. For me and for anybody regardless of their goals.
Putting any goal of any kind out into the public arena is an interesting experience. Immediately there are people who embrace it with you and have your back 100% and then there are people who are quick to tell you that it’s unachievable. I experienced both. Those who felt they knew better, those who felt it was helpful to tell me it was ok if I didn’t make it. Those who didn’t care for my excuses of tiredness and early morning runs to bail on a dinner or a catch up. Many who told me I was out of my depth. Interestingly, those that chose the path of negativity had actually not completed Ultras before. This saw a life lesson learned of only taking advice from those that are actually experienced in what you are seeking advice for.
During training I suffered from many classic overuse injuries. Achilles Tendinopathy and Plantar Fascitis both threatened to stop me in my tracks. Yet this time, there was no other option in my mind but to keep training. This is where having an expert Running Coach and weekly Myotherapy paid off. Professionals who knew how to manage symptoms but how to effectively continue to train without risk. Under their guidance I diligently cross trained to achieve muscular endurance. I swam, I rode, I deep water ran mindlessly for hours and hours and every time I was asked why; I still could not really answer the question. I just knew, I had to hit the start line. And, I had to finish.
When Race Day arrived, I felt good. I slept well in a ridiculous carb loaded coma and woke to my usual training day breakfast. It was hard to get down but I felt ok. Nervous? Yes. But I was ready to do this and I just needed it done. The meticulous preparation that had occurred over the past five months assisted in a feeling of relative calmness, another day at the office. On Race Day, Mystic Mountain was my office and I was ready to climb.
The start line was not quite the usual Spartan start line. There were people decked out in all kinds of gear and looking pretty darn schmick. A far cry from my comfiest and well trained in Miss Spartan leggings and my 2XU compression tshirt. I felt a little intimidated and out of my depth but I also knew I had done the work and decided to trust the process. It was too late now anyway! Coffee went down the hatch, transition esky tubs were sorted and it was time to go. When we ran across that start line, I felt exhilarated. I felt ready. I felt like finally the day had come and I felt like I had that finish line feeling in my belly. I felt like I knew my why… to finish. To get the medal, to celebrate and to know my training had been worthwhile and to prove to everyone that I could do it. It turned out, I was wrong.
Three hours into the race and things were not going well for me. The 8km Ultra Loop was brutal. My body felt bitterly fatigued. I was walking sideways. I was dizzy. I was really, really hot (it was 29 degrees) and I was in trouble. However, my mindset was strong. I never once contemplated stopping. In my mind, this had now just become a battle of time. I was never not going to make this thing, it was just about how long it would take me. Around this time I saw my beautiful support crew on the course. I remember thinking how terrible I must have looked as I fought back the need to vomit but geez it was great to see them. Apparently we talked a lot as they followed me through the obstacles, I don’t remember any of it but I do remember tipping water over my head and instantly feeling like things just turned around for the better. Later she and my hubby told me they both literally cried as I left the event arena. They knew how badly I wanted this and I have no doubt that seeing me in that condition gave them every doubt that I was just not going to make it.
At around 5 hours in, I came across a few fellow Ultras who gave me incredible hope. They had calculated that we only had 1.5km to go and 2 hrs until the transition cut off. We had just summited Mystic Mountain and I was feeling really bloody awesome. My goal suddenly turned again to the time. Transition was not far, I had all this time to go and I was going to make it!!! But as typical as endurance racing goes, never count your chickens. Never.
Turns out that last couple of kilometres involved another summit to Mystic. It involved more obstacles, leapfrog burpees, unassisted cargo net craws and I made it through transition with just 30 minutes to spare. I was fatigued but in better shape than I was at the 3hr mark and my mindset was still strong. I knew I had to hustle. I knew the last lap would be so tight but I was now 30km in with 20km to go. My why was all about finishing and beating that clock.
I walked out of transition feeling fairly average but also extremely proud. I heard the count down to transition cut off as I moved away from the course and resolved to just get to the end as fast as I could. I knew that with the time being so tight now, I absolutely could not stop. Ever. At All. And, I didn’t.
The defining moment of the race for me came on the 2nd last summit of Mystic. It was about 330pm and it was now a fully exposed track. It was 29 degrees, I had been going for close to 8 hours and every single step up that mountain was tough. The ground was hot, the sun was hotter, there was no shade, no relief and the top was well over 1.5km away, straight up. As I looked around me I saw what looked like a war zone. A zombie apocalypse even. Nobody was speaking. Racers were literally stepping one tiny step in front of the other and looking up hopefully toward the summit. Others were vomiting. Many were simply stopped. The reality of endurance racing hit like a freight train and it was here, on this mountain I was hit with my why.
As a person, I am naturally quite competitive. I hear a buzzer or a start line horn and I go. Win or lose; I go hard. I suddenly realized that so many of my past events had been about beating times, about competing against others and about sprouting the glory and accomplishments from the rooftops. But in this moment, NONE of that was relevant any more. There was nobody cheering for me. There was nobody asking me if I was making a good average time. There was nobody. There was just me.
This ascent stripped back my mind to the most rawest of states. I suddenly realized that this race, was on me. That if my mind switched over to a negative gear for a second, I would lose. I realized that the training, the exhaustion and the fear – was on me. Nobody could help me here, but me. Nobody could make this easier. Nobody could ever understand what it was like to be so vulnerable and yet so strong, but me. It was lonely. It was scarey. It was gut wrenching and it was incredibly painful both physically and emotionally and this, was my defining moment. I had become a moving but empty vessel and felt the tiniest of significance on this beast of a mountain.
Although this was my lowest point, it also tuned out to be my highest. As I stepped, I decided. That this was on me. I decided this was my day. I decided that I had to step up and fight. It was time to step up or choose to remain the same person I was when I began. I didn’t want that and when it came down to it, that is what this was about. I didn’t want to finish this to prove to others that I could. I didn’t want to finish to bask in the glory. I didn’t want to finish because it made me into something I was not. I realized that i began this because I was restless and I needed things to change. I needed to let go of the old me and step forward. I needed to stop fighting with my ideals of what I thought my life should be, of my work, of every role I had played and was yet to play. I needed to truly let go of what I thought others may think of me. I needed to completely release every thought and every emotion I had. And that, I did. It hurt tremendously but it was the pain I needed to continue with purpose.
Reaching the Summit gave me the lift I needed. I didn’t rest. I ran. Entering into the event arena again for the second last time was a little hairy. Time cut offs had been imposed and I was only about half an hour ahead of schedule. Though my mind was strong, my body was not. I felt like I had started to lose vision. I was wobbly on my feet. But still, my support crew told me I looked strong. I made it up the rope climb (now about 10 hours in) and the feeling of ringing the bell in the state I was now in, was incredibly rewarding. I wobbled my way through the atlas stone carry and dry retched at every roll under the wire with the torsion bar. I tipped water on my head at every opportunity and watched completely overwhelmed as competitors dropped out around me. Even with just a few hours to go, they were taking themselves off the course all around me. Many told me it didn’t matter if they made it or if I didn’t make it. I struggled to understand how they could walk away now having come so far. With the usual hustle and energy of the Spartan Event Arena feeling like a hot and dusty ghost town, I stumbled. A huge sense of loneliness hit and it very much felt like it had become a battle of me against the world around me.
The Bucket Carry felt like the worst thing in the world to have to do but also the best. The final obstacle before the final ascent up Mystic. I had reached a harrowing level of acceptance that every step would now just be really hard. I do remember thinking at this stage how ridiculous it was to have signed up and paid money to feel like this and be carrying a stupid bucket full of rocks round and round in circles but the mind games were not enough to stop me.
As I shuffled off for the last leg of the race my heart was racing. My legs were burnt out and I knew my time was going to run short quickly. I had to get up the mountain and get down as fast as I could. Funnily enough, I did actually complete the 2nd lap faster than my first!
When I couldn’t run, I walked and when I couldn’t walk, I crawled. My Garmin had gone flat by this stage and I desperately asked anybody I saw, what the time was. It was starting to get dark and I knew I was almost out of time. At 7pm I hit the top of Mystic Mountain for the final time. Seeing the Spartan Volunteer all alone and packed up made me incredibly anxious that she was about to tell me I was too late and had received a DNF. Instead, she handed me my final band and said you will have to hustle like you have never done before but you CAN make this. I was the final person to make it through from the Summit with time cut offs then imposed.
I ran down that mountain as fast as I could. I ran and I ran more. I ran so fast. I could see other racers at the bottom of the trail and I set off to catch them. With the most incredible surge of adrenaline, fear, determination and absolute desperation, I ran. I was now pretty scared that I wasn’t going to make it and that 5 months and 12 hours of racing would be for nothing, so I ran harder, for me.
On the way down I came across Wozza (I still don’t know who you are Wozza!) and he was struggling. I grabbed his arm and yelled at him to run. He said he couldn’t. I said, you can. I desperately explained that we were not going to make this thing if he didn’t run. The Coach in me kicked in and I put him in front of me and yelled to run and not stop. As we ran those final trails together we got faster and faster and faster, with me constantly yelling, you cannot stop!!! Wozza and I made it to the final road together.
Hitting the road that led down to the event arena was surreal. I was so close but so far. It was now 7.34pm. I had multiple obstacles to complete and I had 26 minutes. My family and my best friends family were all waiting for me by the road. They followed in their cars and tooted their horns, there were 6 kids screaming and Ben, my hubby running next to me. For the first time in my life I was actually beating him as we ran down that road. He later told me we hit a sub 5min/km pace as I literally felt like I was running for my life… this was it.
With the sun now set, the event arena was dark and it was quiet. My crew followed me from obstacle to obstacle, they cheered at every small step and they didn’t leave my side. The end was close. After completing the obstacles in literally a state resemblent of a zombie I had just two to go. The Inverted wall took three massive attempts and saw me hold the sandbag in my teeth to make sure I didn’t drop it. And then there was the cargo net.
With just one cargo net crawl to go and 4 minutes left I knew that this was it. However, I had one final challenge left. As I crawled under the net, the Spartan Volley who held it up to assist was instructed to let it go. Ultra Racers were to race unassisted. It took a full 60 seconds for me to crawl through the net, inching square by square. Belly on the ground, elbows and knees pushing me forward and my head scooping away each square of the net as I went. Painfully slow and all that I had left, the weight of the net felt like it was the weight of the world. I could hear the voices, I could hear the time countdown, I could hear my daughter crying and begging me to hurry but yet I could also hear nothing.
As I made my way from the net to the finish line with just two minutes to spare, I once again felt completely empty. Void of anything. Raw. I couldn’t cry; I tried and nothing came out. I couldn’t talk, I had no words. I hugged the Spartan staff, I hugged my support crew. I had photos and I smiled, but I felt nothing. I had the elusive belt buckle medal around my neck which was unbelievable but It just wasn’t about that anymore.
The after effects of the Ultra are the reason I write this. To be stripped back to that raw state, of nothing, is not something many of us will probably ever truly do in a lifetime. I believe I suffered from and possibly still do, Post Traumatic Stress. I have had anxiety attacks reliving moments from the race. If I had stopped for just a moment longer anywhere in that 13 hours, I would not have made it. I have suffered poor sleep and I have suffered in my levels of general motivation.
To say that I am a very different person today, would be the truth. That event has changed me forever and in this past year, nothing I commit too really feels like it measures up or grabs my attention. Weak things break. Weak people break. I could have been forgiven for breaking on that mountain, but I did not. Its quite an overwhelming feeling to know that I beat my mind last November. There is a part of me that knows I am stronger than many and could do anything I set my mind to and that’s a powerful and overwhelming concept to consider.
I had people say I looked like a depleted human at the end of the race and that, I did. But I found my why. I found me. And I don’t think in my whole life, I really knew who me was and it’s something I am working on rediscovering now, every day. Previously I wore the hats of a Wife, a Mum, Sister, Daughter, Aunty, Friend and Coach but until I stripped back every single layer and exposed myself to the extraordinary vulnerability that the training and event bought; I was really just the person everyone saw me to be in those roles.
It sounds cliché, but I left a lot up on Mystic Mountain that day, in fact I left everything I had; except my bare soul. This year, I have begun to rebuild that. I have begun to rebuild me. And finally, I feel peace.
I have been surprised enormously by my reaction to this race. That the effects still linger and the photos and the videos still have me in tears. I am generally a fairly no fuss kind of person. I am the person that moves on, that pushes through. But it just hasn’t been the case this time.
Its been a weird kind of year. The post race elation, the celebrations and the accolades have been tremendous. The willingness for those around me to listen in and share my stories and snippets from the race, has been humbling. I love talking about it!! I’ve started to find my groove again, its going to take some time. I’ve been quiet this year. Quiet in my business and quiet within my friends; I had this realization that life just felt so noisy and cluttered and I needed to scale back.
At the end of the race I was asked if I would do it again, to which I adamantly replied no. Yet, as the 12 months has gone by I am coming to realize that maybe my mind is set for these things. And just maybe, this is what I was missing. So, instead of no…. it’s a wait and see. It’s time to trust that this happened to create a path with a brand new direction; forward is forward they say….
7.58 the time that life changed forever.
Mich x
Credits and thanks to:
Jessica Phan: Training Partner, Partner in Crime, Miss Spartan Coach and WONDER WOMAN. Jess finished 40 minutes earlier, it was incredible to share the journey of the Ultra with such an extraordinary woman.
Jon Bartholomeusz: Myofit Massage.
Andrew Wynd and Team: Balwyn Sports and Physio
Michelle Fletcher: Zone Performance (Run Coaching)
Support Crew: My beautiful family who supported me from the start to literally the finish. Ben, who has never given up on me and fought just as hard with me that day to keep my head in the game. The Talas, well jeepers! You guys are the most beautiful friends and you gave so much of your day and your time on the day and leading up, checking in on me. Lou Heath: All the runs, all the stories, all the check ins, so proud to call you a mate 🙂 To all my friends who kept me sane and mostly my Miss Spartan Clients, I really would not have made this without you. Your support means the world.