The Space Between Obstacles
One of the things I have learned about obstacle course racing is that the hardest part isn’t always the obstacles.
Sometimes, it is the space between them.
On a 15k Tough Mudder, there can be long stretches of running where it feels like an age since the last obstacle. There is nobody immediately beside me, no wall to climb, no mud pit to crawl through.
Just me, the countryside, and the search for the next orange arrow telling me I am still going the right way.
Those stretches give you a lot of time to think.
And I have thought about some pretty big things.
- Why am I doing this?
- Is this really the journey I am supposed to be on?
- What am I actually trying to prove?
Eventually, my thoughts quite often come back to Dad. They come back to the person I used to be before I lost the weight. And they come back to just how fortunate I am to be able to do any of this at all.
Sometimes I look around at the countryside, at how beautiful it is and how much life there is around me, and realise that I am out there experiencing it rather than watching somebody else experience life from a sofa.
A couple of times I have even caught myself tapping my chest over my heart.
Just a little moment of thankfulness. Gratitude for being here. Gratitude for being able to move. Gratitude for getting another chance to find out what I am capable of.
I used to think the hardest part of an OCR would be starting one. Then I thought it would be getting over the obstacles.
I’m beginning to realise that neither is true. The hardest part is continuing.
Putting one foot in front of the other when nobody is cheering, nothing exciting is happening and the little voice in your head starts asking whether you really need to keep going.
That voice is probably my biggest competitor. Not the person overtaking me. Not the people disappearing into the distance ahead. Me.
The doubt in my own head.
The old version of me who would have been perfectly happy sitting at home with a pizza and a film.
And perhaps that is why crossing the finish line matters so much.
Because every time I carry on, I beat him again.
There is something else I am slowly discovering too.
I am naturally quite withdrawn. At events I rarely know anybody’s name, and although I might not show it, somewhere inside me there is a fairly loud voice wanting connection. Friendship. To belong somewhere.
OCR is beginning to give me a little bit of that.
I don’t have a group of OCR mates yet. But I recognise faces now. Some people are starting to look familiar. The events themselves feel a little less unfamiliar every time.
And I like the thought that if I keep turning up, eventually I won’t just recognise the community. I might become part of it.
Perhaps that is another lesson from the mud.
You don’t always find what you are looking for at the obstacle.
Sometimes you find it on the long, quiet stretch to the next one.
Endure. Overcome. Make It Count.