Spartan Trifecta
For those who don’t know, a Spartan Sprint, Super and Beast race all within a single year. Or, if you are a Guildsman: a single weekend. After all, how hard can it be?
Preparation
Being a man of The Guild, I believe the best preparation is no preparation. That way I am always equally prepared for anything…that is to say, not at all. However, I concede that running around a bit before the event would be a wise move, so I devise The Golden Runtio: the most beautiful system of training runs known to mankind, based entirely around the Fibonacci sequence:
0km, 1km, 1km, 2km, 3km, 5km, 8km, 13km, 21km, 34km, 55km, 89km, 144km, 233km and so on forever.
I complete my opening run of 0km in a world-record-equalling 00:00:00, which I consider to be as good as things can possibly get, so I stop running (having mastered it) and recommence battle with The Outlaw: the 130kg Atlas Stone at The Guild training facility, The Stronghold.
I successfully heft The Outlaw 34 hours before the start of the Spartan Beast, which I assume makes me over-qualified for the event. Craig the Beard lends me a pair of his old Hoka running shoes and Lara tricks me into Decathlon, where I buy some very fetching leggings.
At this point I already feel both over-dressed and over-prepared, so I flatly refuse to sleep the night before – to weaken myself and give the mortals a chance to keep up.
SATURDAY: THE BEAST
The day is blessed from the outset when the noble Guildmobile only breaks down once on the way to the event. I take this as a sign from the Gods that I too shall only break down once this weekend, which seems like the best I can hope for.
Registering at this time of the morning is quick and easy, and soon I am festooned in various wristbands. My favourite is the one that entitles me to a free beer; my least favourite is the apparently pointless fluffy green one, which I toss over my shoulder as I stride into the event village to feast and drink heavily before the day’s deeds…or so Ithink.
Given that this is Spartan’s Big Season Finale I’m surprised by the lack of atmosphere for the start of the Beast. I’m also alarmed by the lack of open food vendors, especially given that we have skipped BREAKFEAST – most important feast of the day. Thus I approach the start of the 25km Beast fuelled by 15 calories of Americano… Luckily I have daubed myself in the magical Ghost Squad runes that give me indefatigable strength and endurance…using £1 kids’ poster paint from ASDA.
The first obstacle is the Head Marshal, who explains that I cannot start the race without my fluffy green wristband. I complain that I am already wearing “sixteen fucking wristbands”, but she is not to be dissuaded. I am running with the ‘elite’ you see, which apparently means I need a special wristband. So, as Jonathon Albon et al are forced to wait in the rain, I scrabble about the place in search of a new fluffy green wristband. I eventually steal one using a Guildly combination of slight-of-hand and distraction-bellowing AND THEN THE ELITE MALES (and I) ARE OFF!
I like Spartan obstacles because they are more like feats of strength than average race obstacles. On this level the Beast delivers: impressive climbs, grip-obstacles galore and gruelling carries allow me to catch up with those who are far better at running than me, i.e. literally everybody.
Although the variation in shape and size of the logs and tires rightly upsets the competitive racers who want a level playing field, it’s no issue for a Guildsman: I simply pick the biggest of everything available. I mean, I want this to be hard…that’s why I’m here. By the fifth carry, however, even I am a over it. I understand that the Beast is meant to involve a lot of running, but it’s also meant to involve a lot of obstacles – and frankly this feels lazy as fell.
As the day goes on, I also note with horror that there isn’t a single drop of rum available at the rest stations, which I assume must be an oversight and against some kind of health and safety regulation, given that we are out there for over four hours. By the final part of the race, I am basically sober…and frozen solid.
It’s not THAT cold, but the rain makes many of the obstacles so slippery that they become impossible for anybody without the iron grip of Guildsman, so most runners find their day reduced to sets of freezing burpees interspersed with long slow carries during which it is impossible to warm up. Obviously Spartan cannot be held accountable for the weather, but if the obstacles were spaced out more considerately we might have been able to warm up a bit between them, rather than slowly freezing to death…
Then again, I didn’t come here for fun: I came here to suffer – and suffering I certainly am. Kilometre by galling kilometre I make our way towards the finish line, eventually making it to the final field – in which there are probably 25% of all the obstacles of the day bunched together in one group. On the plus side, it’s makes for an impressive finish. On the downside it makes me wonder why I’ve been enduring nothing but sandbag carries for the last however many hours. If these obstalces had been spread out through the day it might not have been so utterly fucking tedious.
Eventually, I cross the line. It isn’t pretty (it isn’t meant to be) and, ignoring all orders to go to the medical tent, I instead drive straight to the pub to drink solemnly, decide not to do tomorrow’s races and wonder whether I will ever run an obstacle race again.
SUNDAY: SUPER SPARTAN AND SPARTAN SPRINT
I’M BACK! OF COURSE I’M BACK: SAY A THING, DO A THING! THE GUILD IS A RELENTLESS TIDE!
Despite the agonies of the day before, I’m in high spirits coming into Saturday. It’s a joyful sunny day and we’re in a mid-morning wave, so the village is in full swing. That means we can DEVOUR WAFFLES N’ WHATNOT before show-time. This is more like what I expect from a Finale Trifecta weekend; they’ve created an enclosed race village like a festival, full of music, food, drink, sunshine and revelry.
TODAY IS A PARTY! Everywhere I look are people I recognise from the circuit, all in glorious spirits. This is what I love about OCR, thank you Spartan.
Yesterday’s Beast had 30 obstacles over 20+ km. Today’s Super boasts 25 obstacles in just 13km, so I’m expecting a much more intense experience. In actuality it’s the same course with the extended countryside runs and carries chopped out, so the obstacles are still bunched up at the start and end. Nevertheless this is far more like the Spartan experience I want: tough running regularly broken up with tough obstacles.
Finally, it is time for the Sprint. The thought of running the same course yet again is a little nauseating, but luckily everybody in OCR knows it’s good luck to give a Ghost a drink, so soon we are half a dozen ciders deep and ready to play. This time we go full revels and make the Sprint as Guildly as possible: an Atlas stone on each shoulder, strategically speed-rolling over and/or through the barbed wire, taking time out on the monkey bars to teach Norse Mythology to the marshals. It’s fun, it’s fun, it’s so much fun!
It still feels like a trail run with an obstacle course shoved at the end of it, but it’s the final hurdle standing between us and our Trifecta and we make the absolute most of it, erupting into the FIELD O’ OBSTACLES for the third and final time, crushing challenges, quaffing whatever gets passed my way, and bellowing of my glory.
Conclusion
Given all the hype and build-up, the Spartan Trifecta Weekend felt uninspired. I enjoy running and I love carrying heavy stuff, yet somehow I felt let down by the Beast, which broke me down emotionally before it did physically.
The Super, however, was by far the best race of the weekend. It was just the right length to be challenging without getting dull, and had the best ratio of running to obstacles – which is what I want from an obstacle race. I would have appreciated a more even spread of obstacles to break up what felt like a weekend of trail running, but I was still enjoying myself on the third time around, which is impressive! By Sunday afternoon my palms were burning, the tendons in my elbows were aflame, and my hip flexors felt like they were made of splintered oak. This is good: this is what I WANT from doing a Trifecta in a weekend.
On the whole, the weekend delivered a little bit of everything I love about OCR: pure suffering in the Beast, a tough physical challenge in the Super, a hilarious drunken rampage in the Sprint, and an event village full of familiar and excitable faces ready to GO TO WAR!
I adored the challenge of trying to do all three races in two days; doing the same course thrice wasn’t enjoyable enough for me to consider doing another weekend Trifecta, but I was proud of what I achieved out there and I would recommend to anybody looking for an new feat for their Book o’ Deeds.
Thus, the Guild.