Part Time Dads - Survival of the Fittest

Ash: It was my first season as a NASCAR reserve driver. I was 19 years old. We had reached the last race of the season, and i had yet to taste the sweet fumes of the oval gas pit. My team, ‘Retardant Legacy’, were currently leading the championships, almost solely down to the ability of our number 1 driver, Dale Crimson. Dale was the not only the poster boy of this season’s competition, but the current face of the franchise. Standing at a sumptuous 6’ 4”, with an angular jaw and terrific hair, he was your archetypal leading man. Kids would flock to races for a glimpse of their idol. His professionalism and skill, along with a set of traditional values had made him a role model for the next generation of drivers. Oh, and the amount of ass he got, well it was crazy. And we’re talking freaky ass too. I mean seriously it… well anyway, you get the picture.

With the start of the race an hour away, the team were feeling confident. Our strategists were putting the final touches to the race plan, while our crew made last minute adjustments to the car. Dale stood in the pit lane, assured, looking over his notes. With the falling sun behind him, his physique cast an intimidating shadow over part of the race track. If he’d looked up, he would have seen our rival pit crews staring in timorous awe. I was sitting at the table eating an egg sandwich. But i was part of the team.

As i began thinking about diving into the second half of my sandwich, i heard a voice. I looked up. It was Dale.

‘Son, i need your help’. He spoke softly, but with purpose.

‘Anything you need, captain’, i said, instantly regretting calling him captain. He hadn’t spoken to me all season, and the chance to finally bond had gotten me all nervous.

‘I need you to get in the car, turn on the engine, and keep it running. Can you do that for me?’.

‘Yes. Absolutely. I won’t let you down’, i responded, as i regained my composure. My assured response had no doubt done a great deal in affirming his confidence in me after my naive captain remark. Well, it would have done had i not said it whilst standing and saluting him.

I jumped in the car and turned the ignition, instantly waking the car from it’s dormancy. The roar of the engine sent me soaring into my own mind. I’m on the front of the grid on race day. The crowd, buzzing, looking to me, their champion, to bring home the trophy. I look to my left. My arch rival sits uncomfortably, praying to his god. But his god can’t help him today. 

‘Your god can’t help you today’, i shout over to him, not wanting to waste a good line. ‘Your god can’t help you’, i again mutter, to myself for added effect.

The lights begin to change. I adjust my grip. An orange light. I roll my shoulders. Another orange light. One final deep breath, and a moment of serenity. I am one with the car. Bury me in this moment. I am complete… The lights turn green, and my foot slams the gas pedal against the floor with the velocity of a thousand suns. The traction sends the car hurtling off the start line and down the track in a haze of dust and fumes. I barely get to change gears when - B A N G….

I awoke to a mouthful of air bag. I peered over the steering wheel. My worst fear had been realised. I had driven Dale’s championship car into the garage wall. I tentatively stepped out of the vehicle, and sharply drew breath. Dale, back broken and bent backwards over the bonnet, gasped for air, summoning every last muscle in an attempt to speak. I brought my ear down to his broken mouth. His final words will live with me forever.

‘Don’t tell people i shat myself’

I never did. Well, until now. My bad :) 

My psychiatrist now thinks this may be the reason i don’t like running. That, and it also hurts my legs and lungs.

Three weeks to go x

So, I have just completed the first of my challenges.. how hard was it? 

The hardest of all my races…

Haybales.. a breeze.  Well it was as I leaped over them.  The next 100 yards were agony.. maybe I should have concentrated a bit more on expolsive movement in my training… jumping squats and jumping lunges perhaps.

2nd Obstacle - Stepping Platforms, 6 ft Wall, Overhead Beam, and a nice little crawl through muddy water under a wall.  By the time I had gotten to the end, I realised, I had opened my knee up on the wall and the wound was now covered in mud.. nice.

Army Assault Course - Sand Sack Running, Monkey Bars, Crawling through 2 sets of cargo nets (with the mandatory catching of both feet in the net, which set me back a few minutes), climbing cargo net and a pipe pyramid (not afraid of heights are we?!), up and under 2ft and 5 ft bars, more crawling through cargo net (this time in muddy water).  It was here that I realised that mud doesnt taste very nice, nor is it easy to get out of your eyes with muddy fingers.  Oh, and did I mention, I fell on my back as a swung over a bar?! 

The Trent Watersports Park - Now I should mention that I was very muddy and cold at this point.  almost shivering so I was delighted that I would now be taking a plunge into some ice cold water..  Well first of all, it was a jump into a stream (chest high), which was obviously muddy and a rope pull through it (around 30 ft).  If that wasnt enough, I was then given a jacket and told to jump into the bigger lake and swim across… this was a good 100 metres and boy was it a stuggle.  Lesson to learn.. do not drink the water.

Drenched.  Cold.  And Shiverring.

A construction site themed obstacle, a skate board park themes obstacle, and an urban zone.  What to expect?  Crawling under park benches, through burnt out cars (thats ford KA’s and not 4x4s), clumbing up a skate board ramp, pulling yourself over a wall using your arms only.  Again, not for the feint hearted. 

Finally, and inflatable course.. Yippee.. some restbite!  Until you slip off it onto the mud.

Nottingham Forest FC Stadium - A climb up and down the stairs in the ground.  At least I knew I was nearing the end.  Oh, and did I mentioned, I had cramp by this time (on both hammys).

Land Rover Obstacle - Climbing a ramp and crawling through a ramp (with my cramp, it was more of a snake like slither).

The Wall of Fame - You will see from the pre-event picture, the wall is considerably taller than I am.  However, I had just enough left in my arms to pull me up..

Photo finish.

Key times:

-make sure you can run the distance.. it will help

-wear some gloves with finger grips.  This will help when climbing and also crawling through dirt

-chin ups or an equivalent should be thought about, quite a bit of lifting (yourself up)

-explosive jumping

Dean

“one day left.  my body aches.  my muscles torn.  my legs sore.  my veins popped.  my neck is smaller.  blisters on my soles.  shoes ripped.  how do i survive? 

Pills.”

Ash: It was my first day of nursery. I was 4 years old. My mother had pulled the car round, and was currently in a full stream of conversation with another parent. I had sought escape from the car, the moment i was strapped in, and found great joy in finally reaching our destination. I took off my belt, and opened the car door. We had a Volvo, and although the car itself was a hefty beast, i remember the doors to be surprisingly light. I stood there for a second. The building i was facing wasn’t anything spectacular. It had windows, and roof tiles, and wires weaving in and out of the walls. I turned my head to the left, and noticed a small walkway in to the woods to the side of the nursery. An exploratory instinct within me had always been nurtured, and i dully ventured down the pathway without hesitation. The ground was compact, and yet had enough give to compliment the spring in my step. After a couple of minutes, i reached a clearing. I looked out, and drew breath.

It was an old caravan.

I began to approach it, like any 4 year old would, with anything. As i got closer, i could hear a noise getting louder and louder. The sound of a radio between stations. There was a man inside. The sound of rhythmic banging. He was breathing heavily. I continued to take a few steps closer. I could feel the thumping in the soles of my feet. The Volvo had never seemed so far away. I took another tentative step and reached for the door. It’s rusted handle broke away in my hand, causing me to lose my balance and fall back. From the ground, i looked up as the caravan door swung open, bursting with light. And there it was.

A man. Running. On a machine. His bulbous legs beating away at the revolving surface. The damp smell was overpowering. His shoulders were broad, like those of a man with a heavy conscience. My eye line continued down his arms. The skin on his forearms had enveloped the plastic. I couldn’t tell where they ended and front of the machine began. Entwined, in time. The sores around his wrists were dripping yellow. The muscles in his thighs were twitching. Pulsating. His feet were flat. Two flesh flippers pounding on the rubber. His naked body shone with sweat. His hair was long and knotted. He turned to me suddenly, tears streaming down his face.

‘IT’S NOT WHAT YOU THINK!’, he shouted. His face absorbed with affliction. ‘THIS ISN’T ME, BUT I NEED TO DO THIS!’. 

He quickened his pace and let out a piercing scream. The light within the caravan began to get brighter. And brighter. And b r i g h t e r. I pulled the door shut, lent against it, and slid down to the floor. Head in my hands, i could feel my heart beating in my head. I picked myself up and ran. With fear, but without thought.

My psychiatrist thinks this may be the reason i don’t like running. That, and it also hurts my back and balls.

One month to go x