So the much-anticipated (i.e., dreaded) Boot Camp Challenge has come and gone, and I live to blog another day.

Although the Southern Californian weather has been nice and autumny for a month or so now, clear and cool in the 70s, suddenly the Boot Camp weekend comes and temperatures were predicted to spike into triple-digits. It happened. The morning of, Vanessa came by my house at 6am and the two of us set off for San Diego. It very quickly got very bright and very warm. We made good time getting there, turning off our exit at 7:20a for a 9:20a start time. Immediately, we came to a standstill along with lines of cars coming from different directions all going into the Marine Corps Recruitment Depo. A girl who got out of her car and jogged ahead to see what was going on up ahead came back and reported that Marine security was doing thorough car/trunk checks on each car before allowing anyone on-base. We sat in that ridiculous line for an hour and a half to move 2 blocks. Dwaine and Claudio, who had driven from San Diego to do the race for the first time, complained to me via cell phone that this was crap and that they were NEVER going to do this race again. They pulled out of line, parked on some random street, prepared to walk the nearly 2 miles to the start point on-base and happened to run into us in the car security line, so they jumped in and I drove everyone there. (The security check even asked for car registration, which made me a little nervous since I was driving hubby’s car. But it was fine because the registered address matched up against the address on my driver’s license.)

Luckily, because so many people were so delayed due to the checks outside, the race start times were pushed back to give everyone time to get in. We had enough time to get our “goody bags” before the race, except it turns out, hard times have hit the Marines, too, because there was no goody bag this year, no dog tags, just the usual commemorative T-shirt. Oh well. The crazy duo, Dwaine and Claudio, went to the race registration desk as I went to check in my bag. When we all met up again, Dwaine announced, “I signed us up for the elite division, so we’re lining up to start now.” WHAT? They’d never even done this race before and had no idea what to expect. I waved them off and we agreed on a meeting place for after the race. Soon, the elite men and women were off. Then the civilian men runners lined up, time was counted off, then they were off. And then the women. Vanessa and I made our way to the center-ish of the giant cluster of runners at the start line. We saw some men here and there with us and wondered why they weren’t running with men. She guessed they may have been late. She again told me that because she was feeling less-than-perfect, and because she felt under-trained, that if at some point she fell behind, to just leave her. I already knew I was not going to do that. Finishing time on this race (which wasn’t even chipped so the times aren’t accurate anyway) is not as important as being the friend to Vanessa that Vanessa has always been to me.

The gun fired, and we slowly, like cattle, made our way to the start line and crossed it to begin the race. The sun was beaming and we were all sweating before we came out of the corral. No shade, no moisture in the air, the temps must’ve been in the mid-80s already at about 9:50 when we finally got going. I’ve never tolerated direct sunlight well athletically, and I felt the energy sap from my body as I jogged lightly with Vanessa toward the first obstacle. I could hear her, recovering from a cold, wheezing next to me. The first series of bounding over stacked haystacks was surprisingly effortless. After that, we rounded a corner, went under a misting doorway and dripping, hit the first series of true obstacles. 8 or 10 large round logs were placed horizontally, about 3 feet apart, like hurdles that we had to get over. Unfortunately, they came up to about chest level for me so although running momentum got me past the first one or two easily enough, I didn’t have enough space to create momentum for the next ones and couldn’t get myself over. I got one leg up and slid back, then noticed some hay bales down the center of the hurdles to give height. I went to the center and borrowed some height and made my way across more easily, finishing with a 6′ high hurdle that I again used some hay stack to get over, landing easily on my feet on the other side, thanks to the glucosamine+chondroitin supplements I’d been taking recently for joint support. A few steps in later, I noticed that the discomfort on the back of my right leg wasn’t going away. I did a test high-step and realized I’d pulled my hamstring when I hyperextended it on the log I slid off of with my right leg still over it. I forced a quick stretch, pulling my right knee into my chest while standing, and the pain increased, but decreased tremendously when I dropped my leg back down. I did this few more times between obstacles and the pain became very manageable so that’s how I finished the race, doing overs and unders, dropping into and coming out of foxholes, going through speedy pushups (thanks, Insanity!) crouching and running through tunnels (thanks, short-genes!). And then I came to The 6 Foot wall. The thing that had intimidated me for weeks leading up to the race, so much so that I went out of my way and trained on this wall at a nearby sheriff’s academy:

The training there was very discouraging; I was instructed by people who can climb these things, to run toward the wall and to take my next right-foot step onto the wall, which would then boost me up and I’d have the height gained to simultaneously grab the top of the wall and pull the rest of the way up. Sounded good in theory, except this wall was painted and slick. Any step on the wall instantly robbed my momentum by sliding the mounted foot downward, and I’d end up lower on the wall than if I’d just walked up to it, and jumped up. I could still go up the wall by jumping straight up, getting my right forearm over the top, and then pulling myself up by upper body strength alone, but it’s slower than a true step-up. I could do a true step-up if I lodged my stepping foot in the chipped-out foothole in the center of this wall, but that’s cheating, right? I doubted I’d have a foot-hole at the Marine Corps Boot Camp Challenge wall. I left that sheriff’s wall frustrated and bruised, but figuring I’d use the haystacks to “cheat” if I had to, and if the lines there were too long, I’d just do my jump-up instead of run-up over the wall, which I’d practiced a few times on the sheriff’s wall.

So at the actual race, imagine my surprise to see that the 6′ wall is actually a stack of ROUND logs. Hand- and foot-holds galore in the spaces between the logs! There was one haystack against the right side that a bunch of girls were lined up to “cheat” on, and a drill instructor stood at the middle of the wall, facing us as we ran toward it, pointing to his right and yelling, “The hay is a CRUTCH! You do not need to use a CRUTCH! Get up the WALL!” I got up the wall. Aside from the pushup stations, this was THE easiest obstacle in the race. After jumping down, I immediately threw myself on my stomach and did a crawl underneath a cargo net. There are some advantages to being small.

The bad thing was that after this series, I lost Vanessa. We’d separate for the obstacles and rejoin to run together to the next obstacle, and she was usually just ahead of me, so all I had to do was find her and catch up. But this time, I couldn’t find her. I spent the next mile or so running looking back, surprised I wasn’t being yelled at by DIs for it, hoping she’d just emerge in front of me or next to me. Vanessa said she saw me ahead of her rounding a corner, but didn’t have the energy to make the sprint toward me. I ended up finishing the race about 4 minutes ahead of her, just enough time to come back and look for her, see her coming to the finish corral, and get a cup of Gatoraid to hand her as she walked by. I was exhausted and winded, surprised that the race took so much out of me, my hamstring was humming, and I had small jolts of pain on my left side somewhere mid-course where I finally stopped to walk it off, but it was nowhere as horrible as when I ran the race a few years ago. Unfortunately, the time also showed that I’m about 4 minutes slower than before, but I choose not to rely on this time (about 34 minutes) because it wasn’t chipped like it was before, so the time didn’t start at my crossing the start line, and didn’t stop at my crossing the finish line. =P

Claudio and Dwaine were looking for us as Vanessa and I walked toward them, and Claudio snapped this photo, saying something about my looking way more exhausted than I should’ve looked. I’ve never done well in direct sun and by this time, it was close to 90 degrees if not over.

The first thing Dwaine said to me was, “This was fun! We’re gonna train for this and do it again next year!” They did well, btw, finishing the 3 mile obstacle course in 27, 28 minutes. We wandered the booths on premises for a little bit afterwards, loading up on free Myoplex shakes, Cliff Bars, photo ops, then changed and walked back to my car. Speaking of “changed,” did anyone know that Claudio’s really a Thundercat?

I drove the boys back to their street-parked spot (LUCKY that they didn’t get a ticket), and we disbanded. Vanessa and I opted to spoil ourselves. So we went to RipTide for this…

After lunch, we wandered by a Halloween Boo-tique in the same shopping area, where suddenly, Vanessa’s thyroid medication went horribly wrong…

And THEN, the best part…pampering ourselves at my 4th salon pedicure ever! How cute is this, now that I won’t be tearing my feet up in running shoes for at least a few days?

All’s well that ends well (except for Claudio’s injured knee). I’ve missed Vanessa, and it was really great to see the guys, too. I’m glad I did this incredibly uncomfortable race. 🙂

(As usual, rest mouse pointers over photos for captions.)