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The Spartan

So, I’m standing in a mud pit, waist-high in cold, muddy water. The mud is soothing. I feel it squish in my shoes. I don’t want to move, but I know I can’t stay here forever. I need to finish what I’ve started and the only thing between me and the finish line is this slippery ramp in front of me, and a mud-encrusted rope that I just have to grab to pull myself over. Problem is, I don’t know if I can do it. I’m tired. I’m over 9 hours and 13.99 miles into this God Damn 14-mile Spartan Race and I’ve thought about giving up literally every step of the way. Why did I sign up for this?

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It all started in Grade 3 when I entered the school talent show. My talent? Singing. Never mind, that I had never sung in front of people before, or the fact that I really didn’t know how to sing. But I’m Filipino, and karaoke is in our blood.

I just remember walking on stage in front of 300 kids and their parents. The gymnasium was packed. My little arm was shaking. My palm was sweaty holding the mic. I could hear the hush come over the crowd as Mrs. McCord introduced me, “OK. Ladies and Gentlemen our next student is going to sing! Please welcome Neil Bansil!” and I stood there, center stage, just looking out into this sea of eyes. Every fiber of my being just wanting to run away, but it’s too late. I hear the first few notes of the song and I close my eyes and start singing..

“Just a little more time is all we’re asking for
Cause just a little more time could open closing doors”

Ohhhh, I sang the shit out of that song. It was Corey Hart’s “Never Surrender” and it’s been the theme song for my life ever since.

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So, I never intended to do the 14 mile Spartan race. Truth is, some guys and I from my gym thought it would be fun to enter the 3 mile race called “The Spartan Sprint.” Unfortunately, it was sold out, and the only spots left were in a race called “The Spartan Beast”. A 14 mile, half-marathon with 30 obstacles.

Mind you, I had never gone a distance of more than 2 miles consecutively in my life, but the guys were still gonna do it, and they wanted me in, so what did I do? I did what Grade 3 Neil would do, I said, “Yes! Let’s do this! Why not!? What’s the worse that can happen?”

Well, the worse happened. It was so worse.

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I felt good that morning, I was ready, you know. I drank coconut water. I ate a protein bar, and it wasn’t until I was actually standing there at the starting line and I could see the people around me, when I started havin’ some doubts because everyone looked different, you know? They were those kind of people, you know…what do you call em’…Oh yeah…they were “athletes.” Chiseled, well-conditioned, seasoned athletes. People who have probably gone a distance of more than 2 miles before in their lives. I mean, the dude beside me was wearin’ a whole outfit made of high tech sweat-wicking material. I was wearin’ an old white cotton t-shirt that was shot from a t-shirt bazooka at a Raptors game.

I remember the announcer yelling in the mic, “Who’s ready to tackle the beast?!” and everyone was like, ‘Woooo!” like they’d done this before. He yelled Spartan-like sounds. “Ahoo!”, and everyone chanted back “Ahoo.” It was like I was being prepared for war. Before I could turn around and get out of there, the air horn went off, “ehhhhh” and we started movin’.

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I’m jogging. A nice steady pace. I hear my breath. *Breathe in and out*. I feel the wind on my arms. I see the grass in front of me, and everything is going to fine, until…

I feel a sudden twinge in my left calf.

“Oh no. Oh no no no…not now…please not now.” I know what it is. 30 seconds into a 14-mile race, my calf is already starting to cramp. I slow down and start massaging it before it goes into full cramp mode. “This is a sign! I am not ready for this! Why didn’t I drink more coconut water?” but I also think, “Oh my God, Neil. This is embarrassing. You can’t even make it to the first obstacle? You’re thinking about quitting after 30 seconds?”

So I tell myself, “Alright Neil, just slow down, take your time, and go as far as you can.” So I do a few stretches, test it out, and then start movin’ again.

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I make it through mile 1, I even make it through mile 2, but then came mile 3. Mile 3 was a trek through a thick forest full of steep inclines and declines. I’m making my way through it, but as I leap over a fallen log and land back on the earth, I feel the pain instantly. I bend over and grab my left calf. It’s already in full cramp mode. I massage it furiously like I’m Mr. Miyagi, but then the right calf decides to join in on the fun. Both calf muscles pulsating and squeezing uncontrollably, and there’s nothing I can do about it. All I can do grit my teeth, take deep breaths (Inhale, exhale) and wait for it to stop.

This is how it ends. Bent over, frozen, clutching my calves in the middle of a fucking forest.

I want to quit. I want to quit so bad, but I can’t. Not because I don’t want to, it’s because I can’t get help. There’s no way for someone to come get me, because I’m in the MIDDLE OF A FOREST. The only way out is to keep movin’ forward.

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I limp to the Mile 4 marker. There’s a water station. I drink all the water. Fuck everybody else. The guys ask me if I want to quit. I could end this now, but I don’t want to let them down. So, I decide to keep going.

Mile after mile, cramp after cramp, I just repeat to myself, “Let me just try going another mile,” Mile 7, 8, 9, by mile 10, I’m all by myself. The guys are further ahead, and it’s just me. I realize, I’m not doing this because I’m embarrassed, I’m not doing it because I can’t get help. I’m not doing it for the guys anymore. I’m doing this for me. I don’t want to quit on myself.

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It was pitch black outside as I passed the 13th-mile marker. The only light was from a headlamp that I had strapped around my head. I’m beyond exhausted, but I keep telling myself, “Neil, just put one foot in front of the other. That’s all you got to do.”

I walk like a zombie right into the mud pit. The final obstacle in this 14-mile journey. I walk in and feel the cool muddy water soothe my muscles for a second. I grab the rope and pull myself onto the ramp. I could hear some people cheering “C’mon, you can do it! Just a little more!” but I lose my grip and slide right back into the cold waiting arms of the mud pit. “Splash!” I can hear the same people groaning, “Oooohhhhh.”

I grab the rope a second time and I don’t even barely reach the bottom of the ramp before losing my grip again.

The course attendants are there now, telling me, “you know, you can just walk around the ramp. It’s ok.”

But, I’m doing this for me. I’ve come so far and I’m not going to quit now.

I grab the rope a 3rd time. Hand over hand, inch by inch, I pull myself up this stupid ramp, and just then, I could hear the faint sounds of grade 3 Neil singing at the top of his lungs.

“And when the night is cold and dark,
you can see, you can see light!
Cause no one can take away your right
to fight and to never surrender!”

Never Surrender!!

I reach the top, pull my body over, and let go of the rope.

I slide down to the bottom of the ramp….and it’s over. It’s finally over. I just sit there, soaked in mud, heart racing, calves screaming in pain, and I just start laughing.

“Oh my god. I made it! I did it!  I made it to the end!!! and truly I’ve never felt happier to finish anything in my life.” 

Thank you. 

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