The Hawaiian Spartan Race takes place on Kualoa Ranch and the Sunday we raced, it was late August and hot. About four miles into the course, there was a long uphill run that just obliterated me. I was already tired from the prior obstacles and the sun was relentless. That particular long, steep climb was just too much. Under my breath, I kept saying, “Get to the top and it will be over. Get to the top and it will be over.”

But when I got to the “top” it was NOT over. In fact, not only was there another steep hill to climb, this one had to be done carrying a bucket loaded with sand. My morale plummeted. I completely gave up. Nicole and Jill, my teammates, went on ahead as I found shade, sat down, drank water and rested. 

I watched as they ran up the hill, the buckets resting on their shoulders and I felt like complete shit. Jill was going to have to run it twice so our team would legally finish but what could I do? I had nothing left in my tank. I was wiped. Done. With the whole damn thing. Forget all the other obstacles, I would walk the rest of the course. Why had I even signed up for this stupid race? 

I watched Nicole and Jill push their way to the crest of the hill then balance and bob down the descending loop and I don’t know what happened in my brain, but I stood up and met them at the end of the obstacle, took the bucket from Jill and said, “I can do it.”

It turned out I had trained on sand buckets that were twice as heavy so when I lifted the bucket onto my shoulder, it actually felt light. (Thank you to my trainer, Jono!) A second wind kicked in and I took off up the hill with Nicole and Jill running beside me (bucket-less) and cheering me on.  I passed other racers and to my own amazement, felt super strong doing it. 

Until that moment, athlete was a word for other people - people who ran marathons or won medals. I was a writer who sat on couches eating Kit-Kats and arguing plot points as my job. But by the time I dumped that bucket on the ground, my whole self-concept had shifted. 

I had never in my life considered myself a physically strong person or an athlete but I’d just done what seemed impossible. My body was capable of much, much more than I’d ever asked of it.  I knew I’d be able to finish the race but more than that, I knew I’d destroyed some old belief about myself, a purely mental construct that had boxed me into “smart but not strong.” 

It felt amazing to escape that box.