Ft Bragg Spartan 2016

For the 2nd year, F3ENC took a small band of Spartans to Ft Bragg to battle and compete. The true adventures of this mighty group are known only to the men who battled the course and their own goals.  Although there were several 2.0s competing in their own battle weary course, the Ms that attended were left in the festival grounds, to partake of beverages and shout “Come back victorious, or on your shields!!” Followed by, “I’m serious, I will leave your butt to walk home by yourself it you quit”.  Needless to say, the 9 Pax that battled together that morning were MOTIVATED!  Most of what happens at the Spartan, stays at the Spartan, like what happens when you take the walk of shame in G’Vagas, however, some stories are worth sharing. Here is some of what we learned and recalled of these adventures. Names and pronouns were changed because these are the stories of the group, the men, the F3ENC Spartan Phalanx.

For several years many of our soldiers have been wanting to do a Spartan race but never had anyone to do one with. As a kids, we were always involved in sports and teams, however, as adults few of us have friends that would go through hell along side of us. In F3, we have a group of Men that would not only go through hell with us but cheer us on along the way and embrace any suck that came along with it, like a band of brothers.  Along the course, the recognition the Phalanx got was impressive and inspiring. Others saw that F3 logo emblazoned on our chest and cheered us on. Men felt inspired to battle harder because of the pride of being surrounded by men wearing that bad-a$$ black jersey.

The ages of our Spartan Phalanx ranged from 14 to 55,000 years old. Yes, some of us are old enough to be made of petrified wood (I heard a snicker from a few of the men on that comment). We learned a lot by battling together namely that we are stronger than we think and that we accelerate, not despite our age, but because of it. (On a side note, Mr. Belding placed 20th in his age group – that man is beast and would beat me with a sharp spear, if he new YHC was adding that).  If memory serves YHC correct – wait a memory test, heck it’s H-199-1845 or O-381-2313 – then this battle tested more than just your biceps and quads.  If your memory failed then 30 burpees it was.

Personal accomplishments were also made during that glorious battle. There was growth in the men who returned for battle. New obstacles were overcome and men went from the back of the formation to the front, from missing 4-6 obstacles to missing 2. From being led to leading the group. Things as simple as picking up that damn bucket of rocks for the final time, getting that spear to stick in a bale of hay, running full speed through the muddy tire tracks even though there was a path along the side of it, all made it worth the price of the scars. One of the biggest glories was climbing that dang rope.  The crowd was there, the Ms were there, the 2.0s were there.  Men, if you made it – rock on – if you didn’t, then that’s something we all need to work out.  YHC heard that Shrimp has a really long and thick rope that we can climb – YHC means a real rope, fellas, to practice climbing. To ring that bell, in front of your brothers, and family is something special.

The 2.0 races provided the battle hardened men (harden because of the sand & mud caked in every crevice known and unknown to man) the chance to be fathers, to be dads, to be proud.  The opportunity to see the men of F3 with their families is something that we will not forget. On a day when it could have been all about them, they made it about family. Even when they talked on the phone afterwards, it was about what these men could do for others. It was inspiring, humbling and challenging. Watching our youngling stride in the front of the group was impressive, especially when his golden curly locks of hair were caked with mud and he began to sling mud darts at any opponent who got too close. Watching our clydesdale clear fire in one great leap and moving the weighted sled like it was holding a pile of ho-ho cakes was impressive.

Now if you were not a race hardened warrior, then there were opportunities for you to live life to the fullest after the battle.  There are showers (water hoses) and mead (cheap beer) and lots of loot (if you have a credit card).  In fact, if you find yourself a little parched and maybe a little pale, you can be served grapes, by a man servant and ambrosia, the drink of the gods, that is administered directly to your right forearm. The lesson learned was that the man servant is too hairy to make that a pleasant thought. Some stories are only believable because photos prove it, like partying with Kevin Bull from American Ninja for three hours after the race was something no man would remember.  That dude is white, strong, and crazy.  In fact, he is so white that we had a Bull contest afterwards – the winner was obvious to the men who battled.

This was a team battle. In the future, there may be opportunities to challenge individuals, but the opportunity to travel 5.2 miles with your brothers is something special. To watch men struggle with a tremendous load is impressive. Watching brothers succeed in obstacles that kicked their 6 the prior year was amazing. Every man conquered something and it was done while giving support to a brother. Men who could have pursued individual glory and goals put the team first and did it gladly. Aye!