Men's Health Survival of the Fittest

A few months ago I decided to take the plunge and enter a rae predominately done by men. Afterall the sponsor of the race is Men's Health. The ratio of men to women who take part in this race is 70:30. This race is set in several cities, some crazy folk even do all races, me however just entered the one location, London. The backdrop was amazing, Battersea Power Station. I arrive midday and already witness competitors leaving head to toe in mud and wet. I'm thinking should I turn back and head back home. I continue my journey and before I register in, I can see the race and set about watching my fellow competitors finish what turns out to be a gruelling race. The race in distance is only 10K. Yes I'm aware that even this distance to some is massive, but to me having run longer I know this is achievable. The thing that sets this race different from other 10K's is simple, a series of obstacles that I simple lost count of how many. I reckon there were at least 30 in total. I got muddy, wet head to toe, legs covered in cuts and bruises. Oh and I also sprained a tendon in my hand. Managed that feat at obstacle two.

I entered this race without doing any training. Battling through some mental demons meant my fitness mojo was MIA. I didn't let this deter me from going to London and completing this race. I guess the temptation of adding another medal to my collection was too much for my inner soul to take. This was to date my hardest race. Most races are not so much physically demanding as they are mentally. I wasn't that fussed that my body had not trained for this event. I was naive in my thinking that I hold a good level of fitness bar doing nothing. It was the mental side that was different that set this race apart. From waking up, crossing the start line, going over the obstacles, having my fellow competitors giving my encouragement and helping me over the taller obstacles and finally crossing that finish line, I felt nothing. I felt no joy, no happiness, no sense of achievement. Why? My state of mind would not allow it. It was huge that I even made it to the race. The only people who stop us from achieving greatness is ourselves. I've been battling some inner demons and even though there was a part of me that didn't want to do this race, I dragged myself there. My work colleague didn't show (who was also suppose to be doing the race) but I didn't let that stop me from getting to that start line.

A week after the race I received an email informing me that photos were now available from race day. As I typed in my race number I was nervous about what I was going to see. I saw a couple of photos and I looked at the only decent one of me (see below) for quite a while. I didn't recognise the person I was staring at. The person in the photo look happy, looks like they are having fun, enjoying themselves. And suddenly, I found myself overcome with proud. This was a really hard race, add to that I didn't train, add to that my mental state was at a crumbly low, heck I am damn proud that I finished that race. It may of been a week late, but true to form, but late then never.