Beast Spartan Race

I pulled my old Mitsubishi Outlander into a spot marked by chalk. 

Hoards of eager racers made their way through the parking lot toward the entrance gate.

I planted my feet in the thick grass and scanned the horizon. No sun in sight. A typical Washington day.

I set the goal of completing all four distance Spartan races (Sprint, Super, Beast, and Ultra) in the same calendar year. With two of the four down, today I’d be doing the Beast Spartan Race.

I selected the Seattle Trifecta weekend so I could do Beast in my hometown.

A Spartan Trifecta weekend includes a Sprint, Super, and a Beast or Ultra.

Assuming I survive this race, I’ll be ¾ to my goal.

After several months of preparation, race day finally came. And I was admittedly a bit nervous.

The field was quickly filling up with other racers who had selected the early morning start time.

I walked through the entry and passed the spectator area. US military, law enforcement, and other first responders had stands set up looking for athletic recruits.

A food truck was churning out breakfast burritos.

I still had 20 minutes before my 8:30 start, so I walked around and talked to a few fellow racers.

“Going to be a wet one!” they’d say as the moisture in the air became more visible.

Start Line

The grass was wet under my feet. I could already feel the moisture seeping into my shoes.

I stopped at the Spartan store to purchase a pair of minimalist gloves. My hands were so torn up from the ropes the last race that I hoped the gloves would help.

I slipped my black headband over my head.

After checking my hydration pack for leaks, I closed the zipper and approached the start line. There are regular hydration points throughout the course, but I like to carry my own to ensure I have enough when needed.

I tried to take a selfie in front of the start line but could not find an angle that I liked. I normally didn’t care about such things, but I couldn’t help but notice that the crow’s feet on the sides of my eyes were a little deeper than I remembered. I bit more of them than I remember too.

I felt old.

It’s been over ten years since I did my first Spartan race.

I should be thankful that I’m still doing obstacle course races at nearly 40.

But my tired face was not reassuring as I lined up with the spry 25-year-olds eager to go out strong.

A little dejected, I tried to get my head in the game.

My strategy was to start slow.

Spartan Beast is a half marathon. With the added challenge of some rough terrain, I figured I’d finish in under four hours as long as I could keep my mile pace below 18 minutes.

No matter how much the lead runners pushed the pace, I promised myself I’d run my race not theirs.

The announcer went over the rules and time limits. I looked behind me at the finish line on the other side of the spectator area. The elite waves were already finishing up their race.

“They must be coming in under two hours,” I thought.

An absolutely insane pace for a half-marathon trail race with 30 obstacles.

The announcer called out “Aroo” three times, the way every Spartan event starts. Eager racers echoed the infamous call of the Spartan warriors and we were off.

We ran through the grass field, winding toward the forest that lined the valley. We climbed our first hill as the path narrowed to a single-file line.

I dislike the first part of the race because it almost always seems to bottleneck.

The trail snaked down to the river. I secretly hoped there wouldn’t be any water crossings.

The trail disappeared, forcing the runners down to the river’s shoreline until that, too, disappeared.

Soon we were trudging up to our knees through the river.

Over the next two miles, I would wade through the river 14 times. So, much for staying dry.

So Many Obstacles

The trail eventually picked back up just in time for a series of climbing obstacles.

Spartan races are more than just trail races or mud runs. They require a strong foundation of endurance training and strength work. My training was put to the test as each mile seemed to get more and more challenging.

I made my way over walls of varying heights, the easiest obstacle for me. I crawled along ropes and cargo nets.

The rope climb was next. I did fine on the climbing part, but the thin ropes Spartan used ripped apart my hands despite my gloves.

The first sandbag carry was a piece of cake. A group of young guys started running and clearing a path to the side of the single-file line of other racers.

I followed along at the end of the pack. I dumped my sandbag and started running the mile to the next obstacle.

I was six miles in and shocked that I was still running. Usually, I would be fighting demons by this point, but I felt good. I cracked open an energy gel and sucked it down, hoping that if I had it before I needed it, I would get the pick-me-up at the opportune time.

The trail was flat. It cut through another field, making its way toward an adjacent tree line.

The next two miles would be a steep climb up rugged terrain.

I slowed my run to a fast hike, climbing on all fours at the steepest points. My weekly long runs and hikes were put to the test as I pushed myself past other racers.

My hamstrings were screaming as the trail continued to climb. I looked back at the emerald valley below. Runners made their way to the tree line, having no clue what they were in for.

After what felt like an eternity, I reached the top of the ridge. 

Like a roller coaster, I teetered over the precipice, sliding down at full speed. Running, trying not to trip or hit the people next to me, I quickened my pace. More steps, shorter strides—that’s the recipe for not destroying your knees on fast downhills.

As I reached the bottom, a volunteer instructed me to grab a black sandbag. Then, he pointed to a short loop that went back up the hill I had just torn down.

This sandbag carry was not as easy as the last one. About halfway through the loop, the bag slipped out of my hands. 

I stood there for a moment, debating if I had enough strength to pick it back up.

Another runner passed me, shouting You got this!

It’s one of my favorite things about Spartan races. Everyone cheers each other on.

I spent an entire month practicing the sandbag carry. I wasn’t about to let this challenge hold me back. I cleaned the sandbag over head and lowered it to my upper back.

Then, I ran.

Next up was the mud pits and dunk wall.

I gladly took the penalty burpees to avoid running the next half of the course covered in mud. I don’t mind it on the short courses, but with almost 7 miles of running left I opted to avoid having mud covering every part of my body.

In the world of Spartan, purists will always say you have to do it, but as long as you take the penalty, I don’t see anything wrong with it. Of the thirty obstacles during the race, it was the only one I took the penalty on by choice. All the others I at least attempted.

The trail wound through the infield. Mile seven had six obstacles. It was only one of two miles that took me slightly over my 18-minute per mile goal.

After I got through the high walls, cargo net, bucket carry, spear throw, and a few other climbing obstacles, the trail opened up into a field dotted with various pines. As the pines became more dense, I realized I was running through a Christmas tree farm.

The next three miles were a blur. Fatigue was starting to set in, and my physical strength began to wane. But to my surprise, I was able to keep running (albeit at a slow pace).

“Just get to eleven miles, then you’re in the home stretch” became my mantra.

I have spent so much of the year building my endurance, it was a good feeling to see it was paying off.

Though I’ve run several Spartan races in the past, I always forget that they save some of the hardest obstacles for last.

The Home Stretch

Just before the mile 12 marker was the longest set of monkey bars I had ever seen. The kind that rotates with each bar. But it was like someone decided to line up three of the usual Spartan monkey bar sets together. I made it halfway through when my grip finally gave out.

Instead of the usual penalty loop this one required you to carry two kettlebells. The loop culminated with 10 yards of barbed wire.

My hopes of a sub-3:30 time were dashed with that penalty.

I ran/walked to the next obstacle, the barbed wire crawl. Then, I crawled/rolled for what felt like hours. As I emerged from barbed wire purgatory a heard the faint call of a volunteer shouting int he distance, “Only half a mile and five obstacles left.”

Five obstacles jammed into half a mile!

Absolutely brutal and the exact type of thing I would expect from Spartan.

I thought out loud to no one in particular, “At least it’s probably not the Hercules Hoist this late in the course.”

Why? Why would I say that. 

Sure enough…

I walked up to the Hercules Hoist wondering how on earth I was going to get that sandbag 20 feet in the air.

As a very light guy, this is the hardest obstacle for me. But that’s why I was here—to do hard things. 

I pulled as hard as I could, raising the 100 lb sandbag inch by inch. I barely reached the top before the rope started to slip through my hands.

Even my minimalist gloves couldn’t save me from the rope burn as I attempted to slowly lower the bag back to the ground.

Training for a Spartan Race? Don’t forget to check out these articles:

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Conquer the Spartan Race Barbed Wire Crawl Obstacle!

Up next was the Olympus obstacle, an obtuse wall covered in chains and rock climbing holds. You’re not allowed to use your feet to stabilize yourself. I made it about halfway down the wall but couldn’t maintain a good grip on the chains. 

I fell and had to run another penalty.

This half-mile was taking FOREVER.

I climbed another high wall and made it to the final obstacle. The rings. 

The rings are usually one of my best obstacles. For whatever reason, I’m pretty good at swinging from ring to ring and do well with the metal bar transition in the middle.

As I grabbed the first ring, I felt confident that I had enough left to knock this one out and cross the finish line.

I swung to the second and third rings, quickly reaching the transition bar.

As my hand touched the metal, my fingers instantly slipped off, and I fell to the ground below.

It had started to rain about thirty minutes earlier. The bar was so slick that I couldn’t get a grip. So much for all that grip strength training I did in preparation for this race.

A Spartan race volunteer pointed to the penalty area.

Finish Line

No running loop. 30 burpees would have to be completed before crossing the finish line. 

The penalty area was packed with other racers who met the same fate as me when trying to cross the bar.

I settled into what must have looked like a pretty pathetic burpee cadence. I could barely stand.

I watched through the rain as racer after racer slipped from the transition bar and walked, shoulders slumped and head hung low, to the burpee area.

After I jumped up for my final burpee, I jogged across the finish line at just under four hours. I had achieved my goal.

A volunteer handed me my medal. I walked like a drunken toddler to the t-shirt stand, snapped a few pictures, and returned to the car.

Beast Spartan Race Wrap Up

Despite feeling like an old man at the start of the race, I was satisfied with my time. I was still improving, and that’s all that really matters.

I placed in the middle of the pack and slightly above average for my age group. It was an improvement from my last race, but I had a long way to go before running twice the distance at my first Spartan Ultra.

The event date was a mere seven weeks away.

I was both relieved that it was over and terrified at the idea of doing double the distance and obstacles in the next race.

But the ticket has been purchased, and the flight and hotel have been booked. Whether I liked it or not, I was committed to the Ultra. Beast made me realize that an even longer distance race was possible. Still, I’d have to be religious about my training over the next six weeks. San Luis Obispo is supposed to have one of the most challenging courses in obstacle course racing. 

Thankfully, I live in an area with lots of mountains to train on.

One way or another, I was going to be at the starting line.

Looking for more Spartan content? Don’t forget to check out these articles:

What Is a Spartan Race? Everything You Need to Know

How to Prepare for Your First Sprint Spartan Race

How to Do the Spartan Race Atlas Carry Obstacle

2024 Spartan Race Schedule (Dates, Locations, & Details)

2024 Tough Mudder Race Schedule (Dates, Locations, & Details)

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