Entry 1: Spartan vs. Goddess

Julie Wajcman I am Spartan

So here I am, waiting at the start line for the Spartan Race to begin.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Well, I guess I can because I can feel the sting of firehouse water smashing my face as a herd of people more crazy than I are attempting to do this insane 5 km (~3 miles) obstacle race. It was definitely a moment of “if I walk away now my friend will call me a loser” and I have yet to even start. “Such a strong minded woman I am,” I can’t help but to think, “how is it possible I was convinced to do this?!” My best friend “Coach” has been screaming in my ear for 5 months convincing me that I am a Spartan. “NO!” My inner voice would shout, “You are not a Spartan. You are a gangsta princess with big hair, big opinions and a big mouth.” For the first time in my life I feel my bark is bigger than my bite.

As the DJ counts down 5-4-3-2-1 I’m literally terrified but before I know it we’re off!! RWwawwww, I scream like a Spartan and run like a total nervous wreck. 27 seconds in, I totally wipe out on a little rock and hear a crack as I tumble over my left foot, while fellow Spartans run into me like I’m the first obstacle of the race. As I cry, without a breath to scream due to the intense pain, I react as quick as I can and drag myself off of the trail and onto the side line.

My first moment of glory: two gorgeous army paramedics come to my rescue. I can’t help but slightly enjoy the sight of guilt running across Coach’s face as she acknowledges just how bad my ankle really looks. Good thing it was only 50 steps into the race so that the army paramedics could schlep me to the first aid station. Second moment of glory: two gorgeous army paramedics cradling me like their Greek Goddess in an army-make shift cast as i am cheered on by the next group of crazies at the start line hoping their fate is better than mine. High Fives all around, some sexy Spartan goddess I am!

2 hours later after waiting for my friends to complete their race, in constant panic cries as I am still in disbelief, I am finally stuffed in the back seat of a two door sports car with my army cast cracked ankle resting on the front middle arm rest. YAY…2 hours of Sunday 4pm cottage traffic, as we are on our way to the emergency room.

Pulling at my own hair, I want to scream and ask the driver (a friend of a friend’s husband-twice removed) to please speed on the shoulder of the road. Brilliant idea, I think, with phone in hand ready to inform the cops of my speed plan. The driver kindly declines and tells me to “chill.” I shiver….Ouuu bad choice of words to use at this exact moment. And that is when I embarked on my new found hobby: silent mediation.

Final verdict, the doctors tell this social butterfly that she is off her foot for 2-6 weeks with one of the most severe sprains he has ever seen. Thank heavens it’s not broken, he says. However I am then informed that a sprain is more painful than a break. Vunderbar, I think. Painkillers please and how exactly am I supposed to stay in bed, foot elevated, no weight-bearing, and little mobility for that long?! Have I mentioned I am a social butterfly, busy professional, active volunteer, and I live in a very big city…

Mayday-Mayday, we have a problem! I may need some help! I still want to go anywhere and everywhere. And I will, even while I rest, elevate, ice, heal and recover.

This is a promo trailer for the Spartan Race

[hr]

Follow the recovery antics of Julie Wajcman as she attempts to heal her foot while continuing to get on with life. Wajcman is not an athlete but rather has athletic tendencies. In addition to blogging about her recently sustained injury, she is a national corporate development manager for a non-profit organization and actively volunteers her time to important causes in her community.