Cubarathon – Day 6

Mileage for the day : 10 miles
Total mileage : 61 miles

I'm sitting in my room, naked, feeling the fresh sea breeze coming from the open window and grinning from ear to ear. I wasn't even supposed to run today...

I met this guy, Martin, this morning, lounging by the pool. Super nice dude. He's a retired professor and a trumpet player, and he used to be runner, he told me. “You weren't a runner; you * are * a runner”, I replied. “You should see your face light up when you talk about it!”

We had a long conversation about health, being active, enjoying life and the awesome feeling of being outside, moving on your own, being free. He told me how he regretted having stopped being active and becoming a heavier guy, and said he'd like to start being active and feeling good again.

So I told him a little bit about my journey, as well as the adventures of some other inspiring friends like Dan, Catra, Sweeney and Jack, who took big decisions about their lives and reaped huge rewards. I told him how little it took to see great improvement, and I told him about how things should always feel fun, liberating and exhilarating.

The more we talked, the more he made me feel like going for a run. We parted ways about lunch time so I could go take a nap, and I came back by the pool a little later, dressed up for running, just to see if he was around. I would've loved to take him out on his very first run, but he was nowhere to be found.

So I took off on my own, with the plan of really jogging a slow shuffle to the beach's end and back, just enjoying the view and soaking my last sun rays. The tide was at the highest I'd seen it, which made the first part particularly slanted. Tons of crushed little seashells had washed on the sand, too, and made pathfinding a little more finicky. 

After a little while, however, it seemed the high waters had leveled things a little better and I found myself running on pretty decent, harder-packed stretches. I naturally sped up a little and broke into a pretty decent pace. I thought I'd just keep it for as long as it felt good, but the miles started piling and I felt better and better, so I just kept smiling and took advantage of this sudden burst of energy, pretty convinced it would fade away soon.

I reached the end of the beach faster than I expected, and I decided to not take a break at all and turn around, see if the wind at my back would lift me up a little bit and help me keep going. Pretty soon, I was running much faster than I was on my way out. To hell with it, I thought; if I crash later on, I have a gel or two in my pack, so why not? Let the five-year-old out!

Instead of speeding even faster, I just picked a good clip and tried to stay with it for the rest of the run. I'd say I was close to the effort of running a faster 10k, but on sand, splashing through some incoming waves every once in a while. I was facing the setting sun and the wind was at my back, which made for a dreamy running setup. It felt awesome to be out.

Soon enough, I reached the half-way point and my energy was still high. I started smirking at the idea of making Dan's GPS say I ran a record again, even if I realized how childish this was. It just made me smile and motivated to keep going. I think I even sped up a little, for good measure.

I really realized I was going pretty fast when I saw another runner on the horizon, who seemed to have a similar running pace as my usual. I caught up and swooshed by like it was no one's business, feeling strong and hungry for more. At this point, I know the beach pretty well and I counted the coves to my finishing point, so I had a precise idea of the distance left and the effort I could put.

I finished going pretty much all out for a solid 2k, not sprinting but pushing it as hard as I could. I reached my end of the beach knowing I could've gone a solid extra 3 or 4 at the same pace and I felt like a tiger. I ran the asphalt street all the way to the hotel and finally pushed the stop button on the Garmin.

“New 5K record”, it first beeped.

“New 10K record”, it then said.

“New speed record, 1h35”, it finally announced.

I'm really super proud. Not only am I not broken anymore, but I can run long, and back-to-back, and gain speed, and sustain it for several miles, and still yearn for more.

I'll take that any day :)

This week has been a great success. I feel great, refreshed, strong and positive. This is exactly what I'd dreamed of, coming here. I couldn't have wished for a better way to end 2015, running strong through a shiny, new, fresh, inspiring year.

This is going to be awesome.

Funny. When I left Martin, earlier, he said “Hey. Thanks for the inspiration”. I immediately replied “No, man, thank *you * for the inspiration!” and walked away. I hope one day he reads this, maybe after one of his runs, and understands this thing goes both ways. Happy journey, man!

Cubarathon – Day 5

Mileage for the day : 20 miles
Total mileage : 51

Believe it or not, I actually set an alarm for this morning. I didn't want to miss the early daylight on the beach, and the couple hours of running I could get before the sun starts beating down. I ate a Clif Bar, drank a little water, filled my bladder with a mix of water and guava juice and headed straight for the beach.

I was just starting out my run, thinking about my friend Sweeney who gets to do this most everyday and how I could get used to that lifestyle pretty easily, when I was pulled out of my thoughts by a gorgeous young woman sunbathing in the early rays, topless. I grinned wide and kept going.

I made a quick calculation that a double out-and-back would give me more than 20 miles, which would be pretty good. The beach was quiet on my way out, and the little rolling waves at my feet made time fly by pretty quickly. I ran out of beach faster than expected, thinking I was coming around to another cove. The sand ends on very jaggy rock that reminds me of lava flows, but most of the rocks were covered by sand, which I guess is an effect of the rising tide. The water was receding now, so I was pretty cautious picking my way through. This was getting me nowhere anyway, so I gave a quick look at the Garmin before turning back. 7.5K.

The beach was getting more and more crowded by the minute, but I didn't mind. Some fishermen were walking down to the water to throw their nets and hopefully catch some fish, and I really wondered how they pick a spot when everything looks so much the same to me. Is this a random thing, or is there more to it?

I crossed paths with several other runners, too, and noticed how each and everyone of them was smiling wide. Running happy. Gotta like that :)

About half way back, my legs started feeling a little weird. As I've said before, that beach is way more slanted that I'd hoped for, so I'm basically running at an angle I guessed to be about 20 to 30 degrees at some points. I probably compensate that slope in many ways, and I expected this to quickly become an issue. But so far, so good. However, the way my legs felt at that point was slightly different and I started becoming weary that my knees or my hips would get injured.

So I made a decision. I'll finish this first 15K, go get some breakfast and rest, then make this day a “twofer”; I'll wait for the late afternoon sun and head back out for another run before dinner. 

And I did :) I had a nice nap by the pool, after seeing three amazing girls dance some traditional Flamenco. I don't think there's anything sexier than this affirming, racy, woman-centric dance, with its fantastic flair and rhythmic music. I absolutely loved it.

I can't say I was super eager to go out again, the sun being still pretty strong, but the prospect of scoring a 20-mile day was appealing, for many reasons. First of all, it's a decent distance; but it's also a personal record for a barefoot run, which I find pretty exciting. I haven't run barefoot so much last fall after all, but my feet are holding up surprisingly well and my legs, in all honesty, feel awesome.

I took off slowly and built to a nice trot. I got a little worried again because of the slant, but everything felt pretty good and it felt like I reached the end of that beach in a pretty good time. I wasn't tired much, so I took a couple sips out of my vest and started my return. With a gusty wind to my back, I found myself picking up some speed... and enjoying it. I sustained it for a good distance, too, so everything went as well as I could possibly hope for.

The last half mile, I felt the burn under both my big toes and got worried that I might have blisters, but it turned out to only be hot spots. When I got back to the hotel, Dan's Garmin clamored “You've made a new distance record!”, then “You've run your fastest 10K!”. I'm thus writing this pretty tired, and pretty proud :)

Now all I want... is FOOD!

Cubarathon - Day 4

Miles for the day : 0

Total miles : 31

I woke up today feeling a little sore for the first time. Is it the amazingly crappy mattress, the higher mileage, the noisy nights, the less-than-optimal food? It doesn't matter. I'm on vacation after all, so screw it. Let's have a zero day!

It's often like this when I travel south during wintertime. The first few days are super exciting, I bounce all over in the unbridled happiness of being under the sun again. Then, a couple days go by and my body gets a little bit of a backlash. After all, I've been spending months in low light, freezing temperatures and 9-to-5 life. Jumping right out of it is exhilarating, but I also need to take things in stride if I don't want to overdo it and end up with a bad sunburn, an injury or a mix of both.

So I simply went downstairs and found a comfy lounger by the poolside, soaking in the early morning rays then switching to the shade of a bunch of palm trees under which funny little lizards with spiral tails play around. I spent several hours finishing an amazing book I started last summer; it traces back the steps of the first real explorers of North America; my French-Canadian ancestors. It's a very little-known fact, but my great grand-dads were pretty badass. Upon their arrival in their boats, many of them figured out their European ways would not cut it in this wilderness and headed straight for the bush, where they met and shared their life with the Natives Peoples of the area. Most of them never returned to “settled” life and preferred traveling around wih their brothers and sisters, learning the ways of hunting, gathering, pathfinding and long-distance travelling with the best of the best.

These people (they were mostly men, but there were women, too) were quickly judged and called the “ensavaged ones”. Most were dissed and History wasn't kind to them. They were often only referred to as “boys” or “mountainmen” by other travelers like Lewis and Clark (Surprise! A good portion of their crew were French Canadians) and the other stars of the great American expeditions. But the truth is, it was French-Canadians, accompanied by their new families (mostly natives, but also some freed or runaway slaves and the Metis of the Canadian Prairies as well) who were the first non-natives to see and travel the bulk of North America.

Reconnecting with this part of History made me realize that I am not as estranged as I think about my own culture; I am simply kindred with the ones “the civilized world” overlooked and dismissed, even though they were the true backbone of the early days of the white man in this new continent.

Important sidenote; I learned that the very vast majority of the Ensavaged Ones were welcomed with open arms by our Native brothers and sisters, who were impressed with their openness and honored by the respect and interest these wild men showed them. My ancestors lived by the hundreds (if not thousands) peacefully with many different tribes, embracing their way of life and thriving with them, often refusing to go anywhere without their clan, much less settle back into the white villages that were developing everywhere. They relentlessly defended the rights of the First Nations, often to their great disadvantage, and they married and had families inside their clan which also brought a lot of judgement and racism upon them. But they didn't care. They had discovered an amazing, wild, challenging way of life that respected Nature and brought them exaltation and many adventures. I'm extremely proud of how they approached their new life, acknowledging and respecting the First Nations and blending with them completely, as equals, as should be. If History had given the Ensavaged Ones the role they deserved, we would live in a much different world today.

My book left me yearning for more and motivated me to keep reading about these brave men and women who ended up merely a sidenote of North American history. It helped me understand that I, as an apple, have finally ended up not falling so far from the tree. I share the values, curiosity, sense of kinship and taste for adventure of the Ensavaged Ones. If I had lived in that era, I would've done the exact same thing as they have.

I daydreamed the rest of my afternoon, imagining the crazy untold adventures of Étienne Brûlé, Guillaume Couture, John McLaughlin, Louis Jolliet, Jean-Baptiste Charbonneau and all the others. I got plenty of rest, ate three good meals and enjoyed the gorgeous Cuban weather.

Before long, I started to feel the urge of going for a run again. I love this feeling; it means my body wants it as much as my spirit. I'm rested, I'm happy and I'm ready for more.

Cubarathon – Day 3

A section of the beach, where the slant was decent

Miles for the day : 13
Total miles : 31

The barman downstairs calls me “ironman”... After 3 days of watching me go out the lobby and come back hours later, he finally asked what I was doing and where I was going. His conversation starter? He said I was the guest that drank the most water he'd ever seen :)

He is a cool dude despite his jaded look (Trust me, I'd look like that if I had his job, too) and he added several blocks of ice to my bladder so my water stays fresh for the run. Some drunk fat guy having 7:00 am drinks was getting a little too interested in what I was doing, so I left my barman buddy with a high-five and headed out the door.

As soon as I reached the beach, I decided to run towards town instead of the tip of the peninsula. I was curious to see how long that huge beach went, and I figured I'd follow it until I'd run out of sand, turn around, do the same on the other side and get a pretty good run for my day. I was a little worried to do longer mileage completely barefoot, moreover because the sand is slanted and pretty soft, so I took it easy.

The day started off pretty badly. The sand was actually so soft that my feet would sink about 2 inches at every step, making this feel exactly like running in snow, which I know soon takes a toll on hip flexers and other muscles not so used to yank your feet up at every step. I started to see a lot of broken glass, too, and some of the beach was actually not sand, but tons of what I guessed was crushed seashells. The ground was too soft, felt like sandpaper and the slant was already getting to me. Not good.

I kept going anyway, allowing myself to walk the worst stretches. There was almost nobody on the beach, so it was a nice quiet moment, watching super quick little crabs scramble before me, chased by running seabirds who always looked to be 5 steps behind. Maybe it's a sport they play together?

After some miles, the beach is severed by a large man-made canal, so I had to turn around and go back the way I came. Remembering the effect of passing in front of my hotel yesterday, I started thinking today wouldn't be that long of a run, either. Lucky for me, I kinda lost sight of where I needed to exit the beach. The sand got increasingly packed, the slant gentler and soon enough, I was trotting at a pretty good clip with a big smile on my face.

I started spotting landmarks far away and telling myself I would run to them before turning back, then I'd spot another one and just keep going. I played that game for a pretty long time, until I literally ran out of beach, several miles later. I paused for a little seaside snack, drank some water and took off in the other direction.

I thought I was doing pretty decent mileage, but I guess the heightened difficulty of running on sand got me confused. I ended up running 13 miles. How do I know? Well, my friend Dan left his GPS at my place last summer, and I decided to take it with me on the trip. It's a Garmin model I've never seen and it's super easy to use. It's lost its bracelet, too, so you just throw it in your pocket or your vest and forget about it. Then when your run is over, you get to have a reality check :)

It might not have been a super long run, but I'm excited about a couple things. First, that was a 100% barefoot beach half-marathon, and my feet feel great. Also, my knees have ran like champs ever since I got here, and the miles are piling up under less-than-ideal conditions (asphalt, soft sand). Finally, my body feels great and my energy level is good, too. So I'm very happy with this little trip so far. We'll see what tomorrow brings, but I'd love to find some shaded trails somewhere, if that's not too much to ask. I'll probably try and talk to some locals, see if I can get any luck :)

Cubarathon – Day 2

Miles for the day : 6
Total miles : 18

Remember yesterday, when I stopped to re-fit my sandals and tape up my toes? Turns out I left my roll of Band-Aid tape somewhere on that bench! That stuff is the only tape I know that stretches, has a soft padded material and stays on even if you sweat, so I was really bummed when I flipped my vest upside down and inside out and couldn't find the brand new roll I'd brought.

So instead of running the beach today, I put my shoes on (no tape, no sandals) and headed back the same way I headed yesterday. Funny how distance seems so much smaller when you run a route for the second time. In what felt like minutes, I was there, at the little public park with benches, looking all around. No luck. No tape. It's just gone. Ah, well.

Since I was already out and wearing shoes, I figured I'd make this run a little road adventure. The street my hotel's on has several nice shaded sidewalk stretches, so the mid-day sun wasn't too brutal. I'm already doing better in the humid heat, too, which means I can breathe well and not feel smothered by the damp sea air.

I probably picked up some speed, because I started to feel really, really hot soon after. Dodging fat tourists around the sidewalks felt like a game, and I guess I was imagining myself a super nimble parkour runner or a ninja. I decided to take a break under a big tree, drink some water and chill for a couple minutes.

Almost immediately after resuming my run, I ended up at the same crossroad joining the autopista. I really didn't feel like running along that thing again, so I veered right and aimed for the first street that would take me back to the village. I crossed a pretty little fair with playing kids, restaurants, cafes where friends sat to have a drink and chat. I think I like Varadero much better than any other place I've seen in this country.

Lost in thoughts, I just kept jogging along, twisting between rows of slow beachgoers and tourists, winking at local kids and smiling wide. The day was very hot, however, and I remember being surprised at how much I was sweating. Before long, I realized I had gotten back to my starting point, and the hotel lobby felt very, very appealing. The midday heat had made me feel a little dizzy and the prospect of a cold beer under the shade got the last part of my motivation. I called it a day at a little over six miles, spent several more minutes stretching in the shade and enjoyed the rest of day napping in a lounger, reading a book and fantasizing on awesome exotic fruits, champagne and lobsters.

On a sidenote, I discovered that some of the food served at the hotel is actually quite decent. They make a very simple, paella-like rice dish that's very tasty and they serve root vegetables I'm not sure I've ever had before. One is pasty and orange and reminds me of yucca, the other one is tubular and looks like a potato, but is very fibery and has some sort of “spine” you can't eat. This particular one I like a lot. And since they serve both fresh-cut and cooked cabbage, I'm pretty happy with what I eat!

I'll go to bed early tonight and see if I can wake up earlier and head for the beach for an early morning long run tomorrow. Aside from a couple blisters, my body feels great and eager for more!

Cubarathon – Day 1

Welcome to my little playground :)

Miles for the day : 12

With my body constantly getting better and my fitness almost back where I want it to be, thanks to an unbelievable autumn and early winter that were the mildest on record, I decided to make my Cuban vacation a personal winter training camp. I brought three times more running gear than standard clothes and enough gels and bars to run a hundred mile race. Actually, if everything goes well, I should pull off about that distance if I streak and remain constant... Hell if it goes better than planned, I might run more than that. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I got here yesterday night, eager to start a week of running and relaxing in the sun. I'm on my own, which has a lot of advantages. I do what I want, when I want, I can sleep, eat or simply be contemplative to my heart's content.

My hotel is indescribably crappy, with chipped walls, rotten doorways and terrible mattresses, but I find it has a lot of charm for some reason. I don't know if it's because my Spanish has become so much better, but the personnel is super friendly and even random people I met on my run today were open, helpful and smiley. That makes me happy, because my previous Cuban experiences have never been too great, socially speaking.

I woke up at my own rhythm this morning, after a night of watching my TV's only channel, which plays back-to-back episodes of Anthony Bourdain's series. I sorta knew who the guy was, but I'd never really watched the show. I really enjoyed watching him travel through China, then Vietnam, then Thailand, making friends and trying all sorts of exquisite foods and alcohols. He's got nothing on my friend Dan, but it was fun to follow his gastronomic adventures.

As soon as I pulled the curtain, my room got flooded in the gorgeous yellow light of a sunny day, and I marveled at the blue expense that spreads from my window to the horizon. I made my way down to the restaurant, which is 7 flights of stairs each time I go to or from my room. I figured that's part of the training.

Most of you probably don't know Cuba (although that's about to change really soon), so you might not know that it's infamous for its food. Being economically choked by the world's strongest superpower for more than 60 years is sure to leave a trace, so the country relies pretty exclusively on basic staple foods it produces. Add to this fact that I chose the lowest possible grade of accommodation because I'm a dirtbag, and you've got the right ingredients for terrible buffet-style dining... So much so that I've only eaten fruits and white rice so far, and I don't plan to change my diet much if I want to keep a straight stomach.

So after a plateful of decent fresh fruits like guavas, bananas, pineapple slices and something that looked and tasted like a mix of of a lime and an orange (yes, it was delicious), I filled my running vest's bladder and took off.

I didn't have the first idea where to go, so I thought I'd just follow my hotel's street until the miles pile up. It turned out to be a good plan, since I happen to live on one of the longest streets in the peninsula, it seems. I crossed little markets, shops, smiley little kids playing outside and old ladies going about their daily chores. It felt great to see the ordinary, everyday Cuban life, as most resorts are so remote from anything local that you hardly ever have contact with anyone when you come here on an all-inclusive plan. Some people even smiled or waved at me, and I felt perfectly comfortable to wander around on my own two feet.

After about an hour, I made a stop to fiddle with my Luna Origen ATS laces, which rub in-between my big and second toes. I'd specifically brought a roll of Band-Aid tape, expecting this would happen. I took two bits of it, wrapped my second toes and put the sandals back on, with a slight adjustment of the laces. Perfect.

When I finally reached the end of my street, I looked up and decided to veer in the direction of the ocean. Mid-day was coming and the heat here is extremely humid, which makes it a little harder for me to withstand. Add the fact that my skin hasn't pretty much seen a single sun ray since the Copper Canyons, and you'll probably understand why I started to aim for some shade.

I thought I would soon reach some shaded areas by the beach, but instead ended up on the Autopista, a crappy highway filled with exhaust-spewing 50-year-old trucks and cars your grandpa used to drive (they do look amazing, on the other hand). I wasn't very happy with my predicament, and it took a while before I spotted a posh-looking resort and decided to head that way. I'd just walk in and head for the beach, I thought, and run from there back to my point of origin.

I got to the beach, took off my sandals and grinned wide at the idea of a long barefoot run in the sand, but my smile faded pretty quickly when I realized the hotel was built on some cove, blocked on two sides by extremely jagged rock formations. Dammit.

I turned back and followed the directions a nice dude from the hotel gave me. A little while later, after inhaling the black highway fumes for the second time, I finally found a little pathway that lead directly to the beach. It is probably the longest ongoing strip of sand I've ever seen; it took me straight back to my hotel, some 7 miles away. And it keeps going as far as my eyes can see!

The only not-so-great part is that the beach has a sizable slant, which means I can't run anywhere that's flat. After some time coming back, my left hip started to feel the burn. My feet are doing great, however, thanks in part to the barefoot running I've been doing on treadmills this fall. And both my knees feel perfect.

My plan for tomorrow? I'll try to wake up early and get my run early in the morning so I don't get beaten down too much by the sun. I'll run the other direction on the beach, so if my hip starts to hurt, I'll turn around and use the slant to my advantage. And who knows, if I can get some decent mileage, a good nap and a decent mid-day meal, maybe I can go on a sunset run later in the day?

Life is good.

Plan F

I’ve been quite silent since my last post, after my despairing attempt at the Pandora 24 Ultra, where I could do nothing else than acknowledge the failures of my body and, ultimately, of some of the life choices I had made over recent years.

Dwelling on the past and having regrets are really not my thing, so I want to make this article a statement of what I want my life to get back to and what I will look forward to in the months to come.

I have a new plan. It involves getting my running back together. It places travel at the center of things again. It focuses on health, happiness and connection.

I call it Plan F.





Step 1. Break away.
I’ve cancelled any plans to run ultra distances until next season. Although it’s a heartbreaking decision for me, I have to be realistic and acknowledge that my body is not in any condition to run multiple hours without suffering damage. I also had to break away from life situations that were weighing me down, no matter how hard for me and others. In time, I hope my decisions prove to be the right ones.

Step 2. Back to basics.
I need to remember where I came from. I spent years trying to run and failing, until I discovered barefoot. After a little over 2 years of a barefoot regimen, for many different reasons, I went back to wearing shoes and I think my form degraded over time, which in part brought back my knee problem. I will get back to true barefoot and very minimal running for all my training, and only wear minimally-cushioned shoes for longer events and technical trail running.

Step3. Run. More. Better.
Even if I don’t have much access to trails in the heart of Montreal, I will capitalize on multiple occasions for running during my week, even if for very short distances. Among other things, I will emphasize on running commutes, which are a neat, fast, healthy way to go to and back from my office. I will be running more frequently, at more regular volumes, and building a better, stronger base from there.

Step 4. Bring back adventure.
I will relentlessly chase and avoid routine to the best of my ability. Weekends, week nights, hell, mid-day working days hold opportunity for adventure that I want to seize. The unknown, the unplanned, give me wings. There’s a flow I yearn to follow.

Step 5. Reconnect.
There are tons of people in my life I love profoundly. I need to spend more time with them. They feed my soul. They inspire me. They lift me up and show me how wonderful the world can be. They embody the change we all need. They are Humans in the best sense of the word, and they make me a very rich man.

So here you have it. These are the guidelines I will try to live by from now on.

To get my wings back.

To soar again.

To finally Run Free.

Book Review : "Obstacle Race Training" by Margaret Schlacter

I think there is an obstacle racer in each and every one of us. I discovered it for myself when I ran the Spartan Race, which I believe was the first obstacle event to be held in Quebec at that time. The incredible high and the feeling of achievement stayed with me for days, and I still love to take a look at my crazy race pictures every once in a while.

My friend Margaret Schlacter has captured and bottled that feeling, and is offering it for everyone to enjoy in her new book “Obstacle Race Training”, which is aptly subtitled “How to beat any course, compete like a champion and change your life”. For me, above everything else, that's what this book represents; an opportunity for many to discover something new, and change their life for the better.

It's not that the book holds any special recipe or long-lost secret; on the contrary. It does a great job of explaining what obstacle course racing (OCR) is, and of convincing you anyone can do it. And the best part is, it's true.

Whether you are specifically looking for advice on obstacle course racing or you're just looking for an inspiration to go out and have an adventure, this book is a great read. I found myself eating it from cover to cover in a single day, spending longer time in the adventure segments where Margaret describes her own experience as an obstacle racer and when she relates other people's journeys through the sport as well.

“Obstacle Race Training” is filled with excellent, simple, no-gimmick advice on how to train your whole body, make good decisions about your nutrition and hydration and about how to set realistic goals that are going to get you going and then craving some more as you experience success, just like Margaret's personal adventure. And although it doesn't shy away from the elite perspective at times, the book is centered on the amateur racer, from absolute beginners to experienced athletes.

That's all really good, but that's not what I liked the most about the book. I think the best value of “Obstacle Race Training” lies in its inspiration to go out and do things we've been told we are incapable of. For having experienced a couple adventure races myself, and marveled at times at my capabilities (as well as despaired at my shortcomings), I know first hand that the true experience in a Spartan Race, a Hunter Gatherer or any other obstacle course is in the discovery that we are all built to challenge ourselves and we all thrive and find a simple happiness in living exhilarating physical adventures.

Margaret and I finishing
Fuego Y Agua adventure race
in Nicaragua

We have been told for so long that everything is risky or dangerous, and we have been so overprotected in padded environments with warning labels, safety equipment and guardrails that we have forgotten a key element of the human experience: the risk and reward. Like one of my heroes, George Carlin, always said, “Take a fucking chance, will ya!?”. Adventure racing gives you just that; the opportunity to step out of your comfort zone, challenge yourself, and realize real life is built of obstacles to be conquered.

Margaret Schlacter guides you in this discovery and helps you get acquainted with this seemingly crazy world by showing you around, giving you pointers and setting you on your own journey to train your body, improve your health and experience the exhilaration of coming out of a race course filthy, scratched up and grinning uncontrollably from ear to ear, already wanting to have another go at running in the mud pits again.

This is what “Obstacle Race Training” will do for you. It will convince you to try it for yourself. It will help you achieve the proper physical training. It will guide you and accompany you along your first race experiences. It will encourage you to take better health habits through nutrition, hydration and rest. 

But, best of all, it just might make you take a fucking chance.

Flint’s Triangle Training Plan

Don’t look out the window to see what the weather’s like.

Don’t expect anything from what you’re about to do.

Don’t bring or wear anything that calculates.

Don’t wait or depend on others.

Don’t muster reasons why.

Don’t back out.

Don’t plan.

Go out.

Do.