In my last post, I made a few predictions about how race day would go.

I was right about some of them. I was wrong about others. The ones I was wrong about were more interesting.

Quick Catch-Up

Last week I wrote about what a longtime runner learns training for a Spartan Race — the humbling grip strength reality check, the pull-up progression, the Fat Gripz sessions, the very specific dread of monkey bars on wet bars while fatigued. I ended that post with a promise: I'll let you know how it goes.

This is that post.

The Course

Spartan Super. Eight miles — they billed it as a 10K, it was longer. Official finish time: two hours even.

The course had one villain that nobody on the start line was fully prepared for: mud. Ankle-deep for large chunks of eight miles. Not decorative mud. Functional, slow-you-down, pulls-your-shoes-off mud. It turned the running portions into a slog and made every obstacle feel like it came after a weighted carry, because essentially it did.

Mile One: Everything at Once

Here's what I wasn't prepared for. They don't ease you in.

The first mile: wade through 100 meters of cold water. Immediately into a wall climb followed by monkey bars — hands soaked, grip already compromised. Quarter-mile sandbag carry. Drag a weighted plate through sand. Then the spear throw, where at this event we only got one attempt instead of the usual three.

I missed the spear throw.

Thirty burpees. On the spot.

In my last post, I wrote that burpees are humbling in a specific and personal way. I can now confirm that thirty of them in mile one, after cold water and a sandbag carry, are humbling in a very specific and very personal way.

Then a short jog, barely enough to catch my breath, straight into the hoist obstacle, pulling a heavy sandbag up hand over hand. My arms had nothing left. I struggled more than I expected and I knew it. I was less than a mile into an eight-mile race and I was genuinely worried.

What the Training Actually Did

In my last post, my biggest concern was the hanging obstacles. Monkey bars, rings, the egg beater. I said I genuinely didn't know if four months of training would be enough.

It was enough.

Every hanging obstacle on the course — I finished them. The grip work, the pull-up progression, the Fat Gripz sessions — it all showed up exactly when I needed it. That was the surprise of the day. The thing I was most afraid of became the thing I felt best about.

The rope climb went well too. I made it up without much trouble. I missed the bell at the very top — a small, frustrating mistake at the finish line of that obstacle — but the climb itself was never in doubt.

The irony: the obstacle that actually wrecked me was the hoist. The one where you pull a sandbag into the air hand over hand. Didn't see that one coming. Turns out there's a difference between grip strength and shoulder endurance at mile one after thirty burpees.

Running With Nick

My friend Nick ran with me the entire way. We're different athletes — he has better arm strength, I'm the stronger runner. For eight muddy miles, we were each other's cheat code. He encouraged me through the heavy obstacle sections. I pushed him while running. That's the right person to have next to you when you're cooked and there are still miles to go.

Getting Through It

After the hoist, something shifted. The low point had passed. I got back into a rhythm. Zone 2 for most of the race — the cardio base I mentioned in my last post did exactly what I hoped it would. My legs never became the problem. The mud slowed everything down but never broke me.

From about mile two on, it was mostly smiles.

The Finish

Fire jump. Finish line. Bumps and bruises I'm still finding days later. Blisters on both hands.

Worth every single one.

The Part I Didn't Predict

In my last post, I wrote that I signed up for this race mostly because I wanted to do something challenging with my daughter. That was the whole point — show up, do something uncomfortable together, see what happens.

What happened: she ran the kids loop twice. She turns eight soon. Four miles, cold water, rope climbs, obstacles — by choice, twice, and she wants to sign up again next year.

I went in hoping to see what she was made of. Now I know.

That's the part no finish time captures.

What I'd Tell Myself Going In

Trust the grip work — it showed. The cardio base matters more than you think — it carried me through. The burpee penalty is real and you should practice them more than you think you need to. And the first mile is going to be a lot. Survive it. You'll find your footing.

What's Next

The Spartan was always the warmup act. The headline is Grindstone UTMB 50K in September — 31 miles of trail running in the Virginia mountains.

The mud, the slow pace, the zone 2 slog through obstacles — honestly, it felt a lot like what I imagine a rough patch in an ultra feels like. Everything going sideways at once, feeling spent too early, not knowing if you have what it takes.

Turns out I did.

Good thing to know heading into September.

Were you at a Spartan event this spring? How'd it go — and what surprised you most? Drop it in the comments or reply to this email.