I have officially confirmed a scientific theory:
It takes me approximately four years to forget how terrible the Big Bear Spartan Beast is.
Evidence:
- 2018 — “Never again.”
- 2022 — “Maybe it wasn’t THAT bad.”
- 2026 — “Oh right. This is basically mountain warfare.”
See you again in 2030 apparently.
For those unfamiliar, the Big Bear Beast is not really a race. It’s more like:
“Would you like to pay money to climb 5,000 vertical feet while questioning every life decision you’ve ever made?”
The answer, historically, has been yes.
This year started with optimism. That was my first mistake.
The weather actually wasn’t terrible. Warm enough to slowly drain your soul, but not hot enough to fully justify complaining. Just enough sun exposure to make every climb feel personal.
About halfway through the race, I remembered exactly why I only do this event once every Olympic cycle.
Big Bear is the kind of race where:
- the climbs never end
- the descents destroy your quads
- your hydration strategy becomes a religious experience
- and at some point you start bargaining with God, your electrolytes, and your life choices simultaneously.
And yet somehow…
I still finished 3rd in my age group at the US Nationals Series.
Which honestly says more about endurance athletes than fitness. We are not well.
One thing that was different this year though: I skipped obstacles. For the first time EVER. My shoulder has been cranky for about six weeks, and instead of pretending I was invincible, I did the penalty loops instead of aggravating it further.
Old Dawn would’ve forced the obstacles out of pride and then complained for six months afterward.
Current Dawn apparently has slightly more brain cells.
Growth.
I also skipped the Sprint afterward. There was a time I would’ve forced myself through sheer stubbornness, but after nearly talking myself into another several hours of suffering, I finally called someone who gave me permission to stop.
Honestly, that may have been healthier than the podium finish.
Somewhere over the last few years, something has shifted for me.
I still love adventure.
I still love mountains.
I still love testing myself.
But I’m less interested in proving I can destroy myself.
That realization is… weird.
For a long time, endurance sports were deeply tied to my identity. They represented strength, resilience, freedom, and reclaiming ownership of my body. Spartan racing gave me confidence and community and some truly ridiculous stories.
But somewhere between:
- writing a book
- working too much
- healing old trauma
- learning piano
- building meaningful friendships
- adventure racing
- and emotionally waking up in midlife
…I seem to have lost a little enthusiasm for voluntary death marches.
Honestly, maybe that’s healthy.
Or maybe I’ll completely forget all this again in four years when registration opens.
Probably the second one.
Anyway, if you’re considering Big Bear:
- train your downhill legs
- bring electrolytes
- start early
- question your life choices responsibly
- and remember:
There’s no shame in skipping the extra race afterward.
Although I did come back the next day and run the "Spartan Trail". It was just as hilly, but thankfully only half as long.
