“Six A.M. may be too early for me to handle you,” Combat Trainer snarls in a less than chipper tone. From the back, of the car chimes in my husband who states, “She can be a lot for most people.” I dismiss them both and continue being a mixture of anxiety and sheer joyous excitement.
8:30 is the start of the Metro Dash NY/NJ leg and we are en route to The Meadowlands Arena. I am a person who functions very well on very little sleep. Oddly keeping very alert and enthusiastic especially when nerves or new adventures are ahead.
Once at the Dash I am suddenly quiet and observant. A dynamic warmup and preview, a few pee breaks and a quick walk around the perimeter of the course later and our “heat” begins. Luckily, I find three woman athletes who welcome me as the fourth in their group. I insisted to not be in the same go around as Rob so our friendship does not hinder his competitive streak. It worked out well as he was finishing I was just beginning.
Much of the Dash in afterthought is a blur. I can however, fully recall all my areas of weakness. As a competitor I find my success often is short lived in exchange for trying to improve what I deem as weaker points or failure. The 16 foot cargo stands out as the largest nemesis of the day, followed by the 8foot wall climb and monkey bars, gasp. I climbed my Combat Trainer clad ass up all 16 feet to only find myself unable to throw myself over the top to descend back down. Fear of falling and thudding onto the gym class mat below as a previous athlete in an earlier heat had done as well as the fear of kicking my heat mates in the face proved to be overwhelming. My own thoughts deafening me, making me unable to from hearing shouts of advice and encouragement from below.
The Dash itself was fun. The obstacles a good mix of expected and “oh shit”. My upperbody mocked by rope climbs and monkey bars, my legs pleased by climbing and carries. My finishing time 18:25 with three sets of penalty burpees.
On the way home all I could think of was that I wanted to turn back and do it again, immediately, and what I could do better. I was also reminded of what my husband had said on the ride in, using the words “most people”. I was never so happy to not be “most people”. The “most people” who were still asleep in comfort as I fling myself over wooden walls, banging my shins on sledgehammers, swinging kettlebells, and dragging sleds in the dark at my trainer’s house for late training sessions. Nine months ago I may have been “most people” but all I know is at this time, stronger, fitter, thinner and a warrior feels good and I will take it because I will do what most people won’t!
