More Than Mud

My First Spartan Race

Saturday, May 2, 2026
Spartan Sprint | Fayetteville, North Carolina

There are moments in life when you ask yourself, “What in the world did I sign up for?”

Standing in the starting corral of my first Spartan Race, surrounded by people who looked like they trained by carrying refrigerators up mountains for fun, I seriously questioned my life choices.

Although it wasn’t my first obstacle course race, it was my first Spartan, and I quickly realized Spartan was in a league of its own. I had heard stories about the steep climbs, grueling obstacles, and the dreaded burpees, but nothing could have prepared me for experiencing it firsthand.

This race was special for another reason.

For Chara, it marked a milestone. After years of racing in Spartan Kids, he had officially graduated to the Spartan Sprint. This would be his first race on the adult course, and we would experience it together.

Neither of us knew exactly what to expect—and that was part of the adventure.

From the very first hill, I realized Spartan wasn’t just about running. It demanded endurance, strength, balance, problem-solving, and a willingness to keep moving when your body wanted to stop.

Some obstacles came easier than expected.

Others quickly reminded me how much I still had to learn.

Then came the walls.

Being only five feet tall, some of those walls looked like they were designed for giraffes. I jumped, reached…and quickly accepted that my arms weren’t magically going to grow another foot.

Without hesitation, Chara knelt beside the wall.

“Use my leg,” he said.

I stepped onto his thigh, pushed myself upward, and grabbed the top of the wall.

Watching my teenage son kneel beside that wall without me even asking was one of those quiet parenting moments that sneaks up on you. One day you’re lifting them over playground equipment. Then suddenly they’re helping you climb over obstacles life puts in your way.

It was such a simple act, but one I’ll never forget.

My son wasn’t just racing beside me.

He was helping me succeed.

Later, our roles would reverse.

When we reached the sandbag carry, I was assigned the 40-pound bag while Chara received the 60-pound one.

At first, we each carried our own.

But after a while, I could see the heavier sandbag taking its toll on him.

We looked at each other and decided to switch.

When we switched, the difference was immediate.

The strap dug into my shoulder, my legs immediately protested, and I remember thinking, Whoever filled this bag clearly had something to prove.

Forty pounds already felt heavy. Sixty was whole different story

I honestly don’t remember how far we carried those sandbags.

I only remember telling myself to keep taking one more step.

Sometimes love looks like carrying a little more so someone else can keep moving.

As difficult as the sandbag carry was, it wasn’t the hardest part of the race.

Around mile two, Chara developed a painful cramp.

We stopped.

I watched him trying to stretch his leg, and for the first time that day, I honestly thought we weren’t going to finish.

As a mom, seeing your child in pain is hard.

Part of me wanted to tell him it was okay.

That we could stop.

That simply showing up was enough.

Instead, we waited.

We stretched.

We gave his leg time to recover.

Little by little, the cramp eased enough for him to stand again.

From that point forward, we walked much of the remaining course.

Our goal changed.

It wasn’t about our pace anymore.

It was about crossing the finish line together.

Not every obstacle ended in victory.

One obstacle we didn’t even attempt was the rope climb.

We both knew our upper-body strength wasn’t there yet, so we made the decision to take the penalty and keep moving. Sometimes knowing your limits is part of the challenge, too.

Another obstacle tested us in a different way. We each had several chances to throw a spear into a hay bale. Chara stuck his spear right into the target.

I…did not.

Despite several attempts, I couldn’t get that spear to stick.

So, I accepted my thirty-burpee penalty.

Were they fun?

Absolutely not.

But that’s one of the things I appreciate most about Spartan.

The race doesn’t expect perfection. If you miss an obstacle, you don’t quit. You complete the penalty, learn from it, and keep moving.

Life works the same way. Failure doesn’t mean your journey is over. It simply means there’s another lesson waiting for you.

One of the biggest surprises that day wasn’t the obstacles.

It was the people.

Before Spartan, I expected competition.

Instead, I found community.

Complete strangers were helping one another over walls, offering encouragement, giving advice, and cheering for people they had never met.

No one cared whether you were the fastest person on the course.

They cared that you kept going.

That spirit reminded me that the strongest people aren’t always the ones who finish first.

Sometimes they’re the ones who stop to help someone else continue.

When Chara and I crossed the finish line, the medal around my neck represented much more than completing a race.

It represented courage.

Perseverance.

Growth.

It represented teamwork.

Throughout the race, we took turns helping each other.

He gave me the boost I needed to climb over walls that were too high for me.

I carried the heavier sandbag when he needed relief.

When he cramped, we slowed down together.

Neither of us completed Spartan alone.

And maybe that’s one of the greatest lessons the race had to offer.

Reflection

When I signed up for Spartan, I thought I was signing up for an obstacle race.

Instead, I found lessons that reached far beyond the course.

Sometimes you’ll need someone to give you a boost.

Sometimes you’ll be the one carrying a heavier load.

Sometimes you’ll fail an obstacle and have to do the burpees.

Sometimes you’ll have to slow your pace because the people beside you matter more than the clock.

Looking back, Spartan wasn’t about proving how strong I was.

It reminded me that strength isn’t always about what you can do on your own.

Sometimes strength is accepting help.

Sometimes it’s offering it.

And sometimes, the greatest victory isn’t conquering every obstacle.

It’s refusing to quit, no matter how many stand in your way.

That day, Chara graduated from Spartan Kids to the adult course.

I completed my very first Spartan Race.

But more importantly, we crossed the finish line together.

And that’s the memory I’ll carry with me long after the mud has washed away.

Adventure Stats

📅 Date: Saturday, May 2, 2026
📍 Location: Fayetteville, North Carolina
🏃 Event: Spartan Sprint
🥇 Milestones: My first Spartan Race • Chara’s first Spartan Sprint after graduating from Spartan Kids
💪 Biggest Challenge: Switching to the 60-pound sandbag and pushing through to the finish
🪢 Most Humbling Obstacle: Spear Throw (30-burpee penalty)
❤️ Favorite Memory: Realizing that Chara and I didn’t just race together—we helped each other every step of the way.

Until the next mile,
Shak