The last time I read a race recap worthwhile reading was sometime in 2013. The only thing less interesting than not doing a race is reading about a race that you have not done. And no Spartan Sprint or Tough Mudder or Warrior Dash or… that has taken place in the last five years needs a race recap.
Tell us again how you got to the race venue, and you had to pay X dollars for parking, or the parking was free, but busy, but you still managed to find a spot, or, you were directed to a shuttle by the (amazing!) volunteers, and then you walked to registration, and that was kinda busy too, but you and your friends got your bib, and then chilled at the start a little bit, and, used the porta potties, of course, and then it was time to head to the start line, and then the announcer AROOed or HOORAH-ed you out of the gate, and…
Yes, we know. That’s what happens at every single race. It’s about as predictable as traffic at 8.30am on a Tuesday.
Waiting times – boo.
Parking – boo.
Aid stations running out of water – boo.
People skipping penalty burpees – boo.
People having to do penalty burpees in the first place – double boo.
There were some spectators – people, who, for some reason, instead of having coffee and having sex on a Saturday morning, decided to drive to a ski resort, and not ski.
It was a chilly (crisp, sunny, warm, mild, rainy, snowy) day in Arizona (California, Ontario, Wisconsin). There was some amount of running, followed by some obstacles, followed by some more running, am I right? There were few things you had to climb over. Then you had to carry a thing or two.
If it was a stadium race, there were some stairs.
If it were not a stadium race, there was some mud.
Three women made podium.
Three men did the same.
Tell us about the finisher medal, and the fact that you got one. If I had to guess, it’s probably the race logo in some sort of cheap medal, hanging off a colored ribbon. Yes?
You should absolutely try this race. Even though it’s pretty much like any other race that you’ve read the recap of in the last three years, and there is absolutely no guarantee that this race will even be coming back next year, because… yawwn.
I counted 7 occurrences of the word “amazing” in three short paragraphs in a recent race recap. Seven.
You’d think that the writer was doing it on purpose in a sarcastic “har-har” kind of way.
Oh, and here’s a photo of you with a bucket. And with a sandbag. And with a medal.