GORUCK What?!?!

It all began last winter when a buddy of mine from high school invited me to this facebook "event". A custom GORUCK Challenge on May 4. Dude, what the hell is a GORUCK Challenge? I googled it. Very inspiring video. The 8-10 hours part is what had me hesitating. I'm not sure why he invited me. Maybe because he'd done a few and they needed some more chicks to carry around. Perhaps he thought "Hey, she's a trainer, maybe she won't pass out." Could be that he invited his entire "friends" list just to see who would show up. Regardless, I'm intrigued.

I click "maybe". Almost instantly, I get a message from another buddy of mine. "Seriously, with the 'maybe' on the GORUCK?"

FINE. It doesn't take much to peer pressure me. I'll only do it if Mike can come. Not true, I totally would've done it without him. I tell them that he's pretty tough, and they give me the thumbs up. I *might* have signed him up before he actually agreed to it. Remember from our Tough Mudder experience? I'm cute, and he's agreeable. On that note, we tell one of Mike's best friends about it. Apparently, he's pretty agreeable too. After a few well timed Miller Lites, and inspiring videos, we are all on board.

So begins the spending of money. OF COURSE, we NEED the pack that they recommend and sell, as well as the headlamps. It just so happens that Christmas is approaching. PLEASE Santa!!!! Santa provides. BRICKS! We need bricks and duct tape. Gotta do it just like they do on the website. I take the girls to Lowes and let them pick the tape colors. Let's involve them in the mommy-turned-badass process. Hot pink for Emerson, purple for Brinley and black for Mike. They pick out the bricks. Masonry bricks with holes in them. Is that cheating? Do they weigh enough? I don't want to be a slacker!

The brick wrapping process was exactly like I imagined it would be. A little messy, kinda loud, and a good reason to have a few more Miller Lites. Wow! This is fun! Wait, these are heavy. How long do these have to be on my back? How do I keep them from shifting around? One of the guys on the facebook page is up to 10!?! What is the matter with these people?

Fast forward a few months and we're on a ruck with some of the fellas from the team. After some brief introductions, and a "so whatcha been up to?", we are off for a 2-3 hour course through downtown Wichita. A little PT here, some getting into a fountain illegally there, and some speed rucking there, we feel pretty decent about our decision. It's hard. I hate bear crawls. Pack your GR1 better.

Another few months go by. New bricks, new tape, new way of taping. I wear my pack to the zoo, on walks and to the park. Wearing it while teaching my bootcamp classes, and poorly explaining what it is I'm training for. I don't feel like it's enough. We start meeting up with a few friends every Sunday to go on rucks. We carry cement, stumps, and each other. We hike for a few miles while stopping every few minutes for PT. Some weeks are better than others.

The girls' finishing touches
with their favorite tape.

The week of the Challenge comes screaming in. OH CRAP. Week of... I still need a decent pair of shoes. I still need a decent pair of gloves. I still need a hydration bladder. I still need to figure out why I signed up. You've got to be kidding me, it's going to be 40 freaking degrees and raining that night? Seriously? Every. Single. Race/Challenge. Mike is NEVER going to do anything with me again if the weather is always so crappy. Great, now I have to figure out what I'm going to wear because what I had planned is out of the question. Basically, all the news I had gotten was to guarantee that I would be in water, cold water, and that I would need web strapping with carabiners. They weren't wrong.

The Ruckoff is a little hazy. We meet at the bar to hang out and learn each others names before we spent the night together. You could tell who had done one of these before. They were the ones drinking beer. They must know something I don't. No way I'm drinking a beer now. After chicken and water, and a few sketchy trips to the bathroom (hey, the nerves get to me) we head outside. Time to suit up!

After several minutes, HE walks up. Younger than I expected. Hey, he's kinda good looking. Oh, did I say that out loud? Mike rolls his eyes. *I love you, baby* He's got his hood up, and a camo GR1. "I'm looking for Keith ..." I might throw up. This is actually happening. I actually have to do this now.

The beginning is kind of a blur. He only speaks to Keith for a bit, who relays information. Pack is open for brick inspection. Drunk women on stand-by for random inappropriate comments, and facebook posts. We ARE in Oldtown, after all. He speaks again. He tells us to get down to the Keeper of the Plains as fast as possible. He's not in the mood for drunk idiots.

I'm in the middle somewhere. Right before the pack
drilled me in the head.

We get stared at. ALOT. We make it down there. A few of the other participants friends and family are there. I know them. It helps. I'm still a ball of nerves. PT time. One of the girls says "just keep smiling! It'll help you through!" She's done a few. I believe her. Within what must have been the first 30 minutes, I have my first "dark moment". After a hail storm of crab walk, bear crawls, push ups, etc, my shoulders are tired. So tired. We're doing walking lunges and pressing our rucks over head. I WAY overpacked. So dumb. I can barely grab the pack to keep it from falling on my head. I can't even pick up the smallest girl to fireman carry! Why did I have to have so many knee surgeries?!? How on Earth am I going to go another 10 hours if I can't get through PT!?! Just don't quit. Just don't quit. You can't quit. You can't quit. No one quits. Oh, are we doing something else now? Handstand pushups on the bridge. Awesome. Oh the pack that hit someone on the back of the head, and landed on the ground? Sorry folks, that was mine. I'm THAT guy. "We can't start until everyone is ready!" Hurry up, Laura. In my mind, I imagine he's thinking "this poor, sad, little girl." Hope we don't get extra punishment because I'm the MORON that took off my waist strap and left it at home.

"Run here. Run there. Run over that bridge. Hey idiots, don't forget your flag. You have 17 seconds. Get to know each other. You seriously don't know each other? What kind of group is this? Wichita sure has a lot of museums." *I'm ad libbing, of course.*

"Just keep smiling" 

Oh good. He has a sense of humor, and we can actually talk to him. I finally catch his name. Cadre Rich. Wife, 3 kids, and one is a month old. House for sale. All I can think is "I bet she is pissed he's out of town chasing a bunch of idiots all over Wichita".

"I'm bored, and I think you guys ran too slow. Get in the river."

Awesome. Penicillin shot anyone? Our river is nasty for those of you that don't know.

"There's a log down there. Go get it, and carry it to Cowtown (a museum). Oh, and you have to carry someone in this." He throws a piece of fabric with handles on the ground. All the girls look at each other. I think I was the first one in. Within 2 minutes you realize how much it sucks. We traded out but I'm not sure how often. At one point, we were all wearing someone else's packs as we switched in and out of the "litter".

Break time. A little food and bathroom time that will come back to haunt me.

"I hope no one changed their socks! Get back in the river, and carry that log, and your litter, to the 13th street bridge. You have 45 minutes."

Deafening silence. We get back in. The water stinks. We put our smallest girl in the litter as the guys start strapping up the log.

"Quit floating the log! You just lost 15 minutes off your time!"

We trudge along. That even sounds faster than what we were moving. Some of the guys on the log are switching out with the guys carrying us, only to realize it sucks just as bad. At one point, we may have been moving backwards. He tells them to lose the straps and carry it on their shoulders. As they make their adjustments...

"I'm getting F-ing bored! Pick up the F-ing log! Get the F off the sandbar, and get the F to that bridge!" (only it wasn't just an "F")

Yes, those are my clown shoes. So comfy.
Yes, that's my butt in the river. So cold.

The water is getting a little deeper. At that point, I'm being dragged through the river. I'm soaked. I'm getting kicked in the back of the head. I'm cramping. No point in complaining. Everyone is equally miserable as we weave in and out of the sandbars that we weren't allowed to be on. I sing a little Zac Brown Band to my group. You know the tune... "Wishin I was, knee deep in the water somewhere...."

We're moving too slow. He calls us up on a sandbar. I breathe a little relief. Maybe he realized that it's going to take too long to complete our task. Maybe he really meant the 9th street bridge. NOPE. Time for "quit being babies" PT. I'm wearing someone else's pack. She doesn't have one on because she was the one being carried. Which means, some poor sap has two on.  Crap. "Up! Down! Roll! Throw sand! Up! Down! Roll! Throw sand! Miserable yet? Get back in the river! Midgets on the litter! That means 5'8" and under! Get moving!"

There's a giant log in there somewhere.

It's a blur now. It's cloudy and misting. When I'm in the litter, all I can see are the ever changing backsides as they switched in and out from the middle carry location. Then when I was carrying, all I could do was apologize and try not to splash water on the poor girl. I hear a splash. THE LOG IS DOWN! Oh no! We're going to get in trouble for that! Wait, the fellas are climbing. Does that mean we can stop too? I haven't seen Rich in a while. How many hours has it been? I think he was playing "spy" in and out of the trees. We caught glimpses of him every so often.

We stumble up the river bank. Break time. Food time. Try to remind your husband why he loves you time.

Moving on. Back in the litter. Not allowed to speak we keep moving. It felt like an eternity. My left leg is stiffening up. I can't bend my knee. My hip flexors start to cramp. I spend some time praying for strength for my team. I pray for the soldiers that are actually injured, and have to be hauled out of danger like this. I sing "Amazing Grace" (the movie Maverick version) in my head. I'm spiraling into my second "dark moment", and then, are those birds chirping? Do I see a few lights on? It must be close to dawn! Squirrel!

Suddenly (for me), we're in a park. As they pull me up from the ground, I find my pack and start squatting just to get my knee to work halfway properly again. "Hey Laura, you know you don't have to do squats? We're resting." We get a short break, and Rich lies down by a slide. I start walking circles. I definitely had the sleepy sillies at this point. My knee is clicking pretty loudly on every step and I'm quite amused by it. Wait. It's been longer than 5 minutes. Is he asleep? "Laura go check. He won't yell at a girl." Maybe I'll just walk near him and my clicking knee will wake him up. What if it's a test and we're failing! One of the guys tells me to wake him up. I decide just to make a lot of noise, while the team decides to get into formation. Oh he's up! He's not yelling.

New leaders go up for our next assignment. "Murmur murmur murmur Wichita State." WHAT?!? Did he just say Wichita State?! Yep. That's happening. Let's try to avoid the road construction and the gang neighborhood, shall we?

Someone get in the litter. NOT. A. CHANCE. One of the other girls jumps in and off we go grabbing various logs, sandbags, and other "injured/casulties" along our way. Constantly rotating our "cargo" or whatever it's called. I believe, during this leg of the journey, I hit "acceptance". We're just going to go until he's sick of looking at us. Since it's been dark for several hours, I'm sure he has a few more hours of seeing just how miserable he can make us in the daylight. Beer? Someone is drinking a beer? Sure, I'll take a pull of that! Oh, that didn't taste nearly as good as I hoped. Wait, maybe it did.

"Wichita sure has a lot of liquor stores."

The "acceptance". Just make it happen.

We make it to Wichita State. Oh good, it's raining again. I see my friend pull up to take more pictures. Surely, we're not done yet. He wouldn't have us finish so far from where we started. Oh, we missed our time by 20 seconds. Awesome. Sprints? Yes. That will feel great on my legs that haven't moved for 30 minutes (I think I was in the litter again, who can say for sure). Sprint again? Splendid. Oh we're being timed? Great. I enjoy vomiting in my mouth. *I hope you all are sensing my sarcasm.*

Now, we get to do 553 reps of any combination of exercises we choose. Rich has a tradition of taking the class number, we're class 553, and having them complete that many reps. Let's make sure we choose the most difficult or ridiculous, shall we. Burpees to finish? Why not? My clients would not be proud of my form. Those were the most horrendous burpees of my life. Just keep smiling. Just keep smiling...

"Back to downtown. You can leave the sandbag but someone has to be carried, doesn't have to be in the litter. Better pick up those logs too. Get moving. You have 2 hours."

Our firemen that must be superheroes on the side, grab one of the girls and they take turns basically running with her for miles. The rest of us rotate carrying a log we found along the way. I take a turn being carried, but his shoulder is digging into my stomach, I do all I can not to vomit down his back. Blur, blur, blur. I can see the clock tower. That's our goal. I'm carrying someone's pack now. The work gets distributed, and we all just seem to make it happen.

Rich makes eye contact with one of the guys and I hear "You stubbed your toe and your leg fell off. It was the weirdest thing!" Crap! Now we're carrying a big guy. Down goes another! We're within a few blocks. Down goes another! QUIT MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH THE CADRE! Half our team is down. We race to get back to the square where we started and to stay in fomation. We're allowed to put down our "wounded". We're thinking it's done. We survived. Spirits lift. I'm sorry, did he just say we didn't make time and now we have to go run stairs in that parking garage? But this is such a nice place to take a picture! I feel like I'm more than a little whiney. In the back of my head, I think "Whatever. It's just a staircase. It can't last forever."

Did he just say "run stairs"? 

He gets us all the way over to cross the street, then laughs at us. "Just kidding, go line up. You guys are done."

We all look around. Sooooo does that mean we can set the team weight down? Like done done? After several hours, you just sort of get used to the extra weight, and you're still nervous about taking it off. We receive our patches. Besides my baby girls, I don't think I've ever been more proud of something. I could have made out with that patch. Lining up to take pictures after the fact, that euphoric feeling takes over. Everyone walks a little taller. Smiles a little more contently. Beer tastes a little better. Wow, we really just did all of that. That actually happened.

I look at Mike. He says to me, "There is no way you are ever talking me into doing this again." I kiss him and tell him that's ok. I've already scheduled a GoRuck Light on my birthday. He claims he'll have no part of it.

GORUCK CHALLENGE CLASS 553

We head home, shower, coach soccer, head over to softball practice, beg my parents to watch our children for another night, grab some food and hit the hay. After all, life goes on and we have work to do the next day.

Monday, 9:13 am: Text from Mike: "I will do the lite with you" Of course you will, Baby.

We all feel it. Once you get it in your head that powering through is the only option, you want to do another, and another. You want to be more efficient. You think of ways you could help your team more. What weaknesses you need to work on. What your strengths are. The Cadre pull it out of you without you knowing it. You may not even realize it at the time. Even though I could barely wash my hair the next day, I was already looking at the schedule for another chance to make myself better. Because that is exactly what happens. You walk away BETTER. You are more sure of yourself. You have less time or energy for the BS in life. You are happier. Why? Because you know it's worth it. You know that YOU'RE worth it. You realize that yes, if fact, you are capable of far more than you would ever give yourself credit for, and you wonder just what else you could be capable of if you would just make the choice to try.

Good livin' indeed....



P.S. Use your headlamp to identify any poisonous plants before stomping around looking for somewhere to go to the bathroom. Rashes covering both legs are no fun my friends. No fun at all.

See. He still likes me a little bit.

P.P.S. For those that like the details, we covered 13.7 miles in 11 hours and 47 minutes. No watches. No phones. Sometimes a random bank sign with the time.

48 inches around

24 feet long

*PHOTOS COURTESY SELINA BELTRAN. THE BEST CHEERLEADER THERE IS.