Note: The Rules & Guidelines for the Yes Test can be found here.
Eight days after I signed up for the Spartan Race that kickstarted the Yes Test, I am officially a Spartan. I finished a Super course — 13km of random bodyweight obstacles in between what was really a $150 hike up a snowy mountain — as part of the Open division (a.k.a. the Fat & Slow division) in two hours and thirty minutes. The Elites finished the same course in about one hour, which means I'm roughly 30% high level athlete. I wish I could make some cracks about how I couldn't believe that I paid $150 to carry sandbags up a snowbank, but after spending eight days and six-ish hours Googling everything I could about this race, I knew that I would be face first in mud, slithering under barbed wire, and hoisting myself over an 8 foot wall.
The wall itself was less successful. Imagine a dog that gets so excited to retrieve a ball that he runs full speed across the living room, slips when he hits the kitchen floor linoleum, and then hits the wall with a thud and slides down into a sad heap in the corner. After two tries of that, Joe asked me if I needed a boost.
Yes, yes. I do.
When the four Irishmen asked if we wanted to join them for a night out of rowdy Irish Sunday shenanigans, I fought my instinct to go home, take a bath, and be in bed before the sun went down. Instead, I ended up in an Irish movie with no film crew. We wandered from bar to bar, drinking "creamy Guinn" and discussing the nuances of potatoes and dissatisfied fathers. Occasionally one of them broke out into song, and not just a few bars of a tune, but an entire rendition of merriment. And then someone put someone in a headlock. At the table, in the street, in the cab — all of these are prime options for a good Irish wrestle. Who cares what people think? We're Irish and we're merry and we are Spartans!