One of my clients asked me the other day what is the greatest number of burpees I have ever done. My mind immediately jumped to Spartan races and how they have someone complete 30 burpees every time an obstacle is failed. Back in 2017 or 2018, I decided I was going to complete the ‘Trifecta.’ This is where you run a sprint, a super, and a beast all in the same calendar year. So I signed up for the races without much thought and got to work on my training. My goal was to do the absolute best I could with them and place somewhere in the top males. The races came and went and I completed all 3 races, did not think too much of it and moved on. As the months went by, I received an email from Spartan stating I had qualified for the World Championship event that year, very intriguing for a young buck. I click on the link and it takes me to the sign up site. Come to find out that the championships that year were being held in some small town in Iceland. Oh yeah, it was also a 24 hour endurance race in December. As I browsed the website, the race looked incredibly intimidating, brutal, scary all that shit, so of course I registered. The race was about 6 months out and I really had 0 clue on how to train for something like that. I basically started running until I could not run any more, then did it again the next day. I ran trails, I hiked, treadmill you name it. Being a trainer offered me the advantage of training as frequently as possible. My girlfriend (now wife) at the time decided to come with me. We booked the flights and next thing I knew was touchdown in Reykjavik Iceland around 4am.
If you have never been to Iceland, it is worth the trip. After we got our rental car and started driving into town, it was like being on the moon. Baren, desolate, cold, dark, lifeless. As we pulled into the town, I was exhausted from the flight, but doing my best to take in some of the scenery. We were there 3 or 4 days before the gun went off so had the opportunity to check out some of the sights. The history there is incredible, it was also a strange feeling being there since it is this tiny country in the middle of the ocean. We checked out some of the national parks there, the historical churches, the Viking history, ate shark, stood between two continents and all the other things that come along with travelling abroad. I remember the cold and the darkness. Being that it was wintertime over there, the sun was only up for 6 or 7 hours a day. The cold was a unique kind of chill, where it slaps you in the face, dry like knives that makes your bones shiver. Very unideal climate for a 24-hour outdoor race in the mountains.
Up came the race briefing and packet pick up. I got to scout out the competition and get a feel for how things were going to operate. We got out bibs and jerseys, schedule, logistic and route overviews. There were around 1,500 men and women running the race. There were 2 categories, regular and elite. Having completed the trifecta with a more competitive time, I was in the elite runners, there were about 200 of us. Once the briefing was over, a pit sank so deep in the bottom of my stomach. I knew that it was go time. The emotions were crazy, my heart rate was elevated, the nerves were though the roof, hands shaky, my legs trembled with uncertainty. I had 0 idea of what was headed my way. Later that night, Britt and I strolled through town looking for a place to get my last meal in. We found some Italian spot and grubbed down alongside other competitors. Iceland is a very small place with a low population. As we headed back to our Air Bnb, we grabbed some sweets for dessert, we ate thing gigantic sugar-coated waffle with some sort of European cream caked on top. We headed back so I can attempt to get any sort of shut eye.
3am rolls around and it’s time to go find the hotel where the charter buses are going to pick us up and take us into the mountains where the race was. Silence, you could hear a pin drop and a heartbeat. Casual conversation goes around to try and ease the nerves. As we bussed into the mountains, I saw this huge white dome-like structure where the runners were hosted. We made our way in, and the pre-race festivities began. The Spartan Race did a fine job of amplifying and hyping up the event. We found a spot where I could make my pit stops in the mix of everyone else. How the event worked was loops through the course. The route was around 6 or miles with 1,500ft elevation in the mountains with 25 or so obstacles, steep climbs, bad navigation, harsh winds and precipitation. Each competitor was allotted no more than a 1-hour break after each lap completed. Every obstacle that you failed required 50 burpees for the elite runners. Each time you failed something like a rope climb, spear throw, sandbag carry, you were giving a punch in a card you had to carry on you. Once you completed a lap, and were back outside the dome, there were judges and a camera to have you complete all the burpees you ‘owed.’ In order to consider the race ‘completed’ there was a strict 5 lap policy along with all burpees completed appropriately, meaning we had to complete approximately 31 miles over the course of 24 hours and finish X number of burpees in the dirt.
The gun went off and my legs started running. I start chipping away at the miles trying to keep somewhat of a decent pace. I remember the first few miles were through the local town and into the mountains. My nerves had me sprinting in the front of the pack alongside others doing the same. We passed the town and headed into the desolate terrain that awaited us. As I made one of the first hill climbs, I stopped and looked around for a sec, thinking what an amazing place to have my feet on. That lasted all of 30 seconds, and I put my head back in the game. Obstacles came, like the rope climb, where I was extremely hesitant to take my gloves off due to the freezing weather. The miles started to accumulate, and the hours started to pass as the afternoon came and the darkness started to creep in. I completed 100’s of burpees after each loop before I took my hour rest. Runners started to quit, which was understandable. My mind and body were rapidly quitting on me. I started to think just how good it would feel to stop. Warmth, rest, sleep, food, a hot shower, all that was flooding my head. The hardest part was starting another lap, well knowing what you were in for after the first loop. Each lap I started, took more and more mental fortitude, I knew that was I set off out of the white dome, I could not turn back. But I knew I was getting closer to competition each step I took forward. The competitors on the course became less and less, and it became much easier to get lost out on the course due to the darkness. Alone with the cold, all I could do was keep pushing forward to stay warm, to try and maintain somewhat of a decent body temperature. I am at the white dome and just finished my 3rd lap somewhere around 10pm. I am laying down next to Britt trying to get some hydration and calories in my belly. I am so damn close to calling it. I kept thinking that there is no way my legs are good for another loop. My mind was filled with pain and desire to stop. Joints ached like crazy, and the overall feeling was absolute exhaustion. I remember looking at Britt and telling her I think that I am done. You know what she says? ‘Get back out there, I know you have one more lap in you, you need to complete this thing.’ With some more pep talk, I get up and start grasping the fact that I am going to move forward with it.
Out the shoot and into the final lap I go, I am not stoked. Down the trail and into the streams flowing with Icey water getting my shoes soaking wet was all within the first mile. Hard bank right for a couple of miles with a few obstacles in the way. At this point in the race, trying to climb a 1in thick rope was impossible, there is 50 more burpees waiting for me at the end. Again and again, seems like I could not finish a single obstacle and I was up to 200 or so reps that I owed once I finished this loop, if I finished at all. Around the 4th mile or so, there was this straight up climb with a rope for support that I had to get through. If I had to guess, it was around 900ft of rock climbing in a small crease that landed us on a small cliff edge. As I made my way up, about halfway, I remember nearly falling due to lack of grip strength. Pausing, I was terrified. Honestly, I thought to myself that this was a very easy way to die. A 500ft drop straight down into the jagged rocks. The only way was up. Left arm grips and pulls, right arm follows along, repeat and repeat, keep your legs under you I thought. After what seemed like a near death experience, I climbed onto the cliffs edge on my belly shaking with nerves. The only direction was forward. Up to my feet, and steady jog to start the last few miles. Hold the pace and get to the finish. There were a few more hill climbs and a couple other obstacles standing between me and the finish line, oh yeah, cant forget the burpees that waited. The miles started to wind down and I could finally see the lights of the white dome and the finish. What a feeling of relief to see that. Back down the mountain, through the steams and into that final mile I went. Up and over a few big wooden walls, I made my way into the burpee pit. My punch card had 250 burpees I owed for that last lap. Belly to dirt, again and again. This last set took the longest, no joke I think it took me over an hour to complete all of them properly. My entire body felt like a stone. With ever fiber of my muscles being recruited the final reps came. 40 more, 30 more, 20 more, I could not believe I was about to finish this damn thing. With the last rep and the trot to the finish line, I looked up to see neon green flashes and the Northen Lights danced in black skies above.
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