I realized one of my greatest fears last Sunday when I threw myself into a daunting physical challenge, only to fail and need rescuing like a kitten up a tree.
Tactix Attack was the name of the first competition in this new obstacle course racing series — as I first reported here with the results here — put on by VanCity OCR, itself the creation of multiple Spartan Race winner and physical trainer Allison and her husband, John Tai, who really does love building a bigger, better warped wall.
I was relieved — and none too sorry — I didn’t advance out of the heats. I could not have raced a second time. In fact, I couldn’t do most of the challenges a first time.
Out of 16 women, I finished last. Last. That’s a first for me. It took me nine minutes, eight seconds to finish a course the two fastest male competitors did in 3:06. The fastest woman ran it in 4:17. I probably could have lopped a minute off my result if I hadn’t stranded myself atop the warped wall.
I’m not at all embarrassed about this. I’ll tell you why.
We started with five burpees (no problem) and quickly advanced to the Tarzan rope-combination-monkey rings (major problem). Stubborn me, I should have tapped out sooner, but I swung like a wild chimpanzee after one third of the challenge and finally dropped to the ground.
The fastest competitors, like Kelsey Jack, who laid down the fourth fastest women’s time, and eventual men’s winner Radovan Detchev, completed this 20-foot distance in about half a minute. My penalty was a couple laps with two 25-pound kettlebells.
My forearms now fitfully wrecked, next came a wall to climb and sand bags to carry outside the gym. Back inside by going under-over-under a wall, we reached the tricky equalizer of the zig zag balance beam. The first 10 feet were wooden dowels, like curtain rods, and I couldn’t take three step on these spindles. I was already about to puke from a surge of lactic acid in my limbs and I was shaking. Balance was a true test.
The penalty for this was 20 burpees. In other head-to-head match ups, the trailing racer could fly by the leader should s/he failed the balance beam. It happened in the men’s championship final.
After this penalty, I climbed about two feet on a 10-foot rope. I couldn’t catch the knots with my feet, but stubbornly — yeah, that trait has sunk me before — I clung on like a suicidal guppy unaware of my imminent demise. My resources exhausted from hanging on, I now faced the warped wall, a slope that curves to a ledge 12 feet up, like a half-pipe. I reached it, using a rope, and hauled one leg over the top.
Then I hauled my other leg over. And there I hung, gripping with my hands, my limbs strung over the top but my body unable to follow.
I hung longer, getting more exhausted until I no longer had enough strength to lift myself further. I could only hang on. Not falling was now succeeding.
I waited.
I waited for help to come.
It arrived in the form of John Tai, the mastermind of my demise now atop the wall to pull me over in what was not a team event. I was so weak, I couldn’t take his hands and pull myself upwards. He had to do all the pulling.
In retrospect, I could have just tapped the ledge and walked around the wall. If I did it again, I’d still try to go over the top. It it only madness that drives competitors in this sport? Like Allison Tai said: If there’s an obstacle you can’t do, you keep after it until you’ve done it — and then you add another success to your list as you move on to the next unconquered obstacle.
It’s not like I wanted to die of embarrassment or anything. I felt rather exposed and very weak, but if there’s a crowd that had my back, it was this one.
When I made it was lifted over, everyone watching cheered. I was so buoyed by their energy, I remembered all the physical effort it took just to reach that point.
Earlier, on the rope climb, Amy Jamieson was there, pushing me on and giving helpful instructions. I couldn’t follow them, but I knew I was supported and encouraged to do nothing more than try.
Try, try I did. Failing is just what happens before you try again next time.
