Spartan Kid

Story of a recent core memory with my son.

Spartan Kid

In early 2025, I read Gwendolyn Bounds’s book Not Too Late. In it, Wendy shares her transformative story of deciding to begin training for and competing in obstacle course racing (OCR) in her mid-40s despite already being successful as a journalist and author. In each chapter, she also uses her investigative mind to dig into the science behind taking on new and difficult challenges to derive practical wisdom for anyone looking to improve and find fulfillment throughout life. The book made me learn, laugh, and cry while reinvigorating my interest in endurance events, particularly obstacle course racing.

I had raced several obstacle courses throughout college, graduate school, and the military, finishing in the top 1% of my age group, winning team events, and qualifying for the OCR World Championship after placing fourth overall in the elite division of Guam’s Trench Challenge. While these outdoor, unpredictable, and extremely challenging events will always appeal to me, it was the idea of getting back into it with my older son that was especially exciting.

Six years old now, Sam is my extraordinary introvert. An athlete in every sense of the word, he’s strong for his size, fast, tough, agile, and seems able to climb just about anything. Sam’s most impressive attribute, however, is his spirit. When he puts his mind to something, he does everything in his power to execute no matter how many times it takes or how challenging it is. He’s embraced swimming, gymnastics, and roller skating because he prefers solo sports that don’t require competition. He will do anything with or against me, but he otherwise tends to gravitate toward his small, close-knit groups and individual pursuits.

When I brought up the idea of doing a Spartan Race together last year, Sammy initially didn’t like the idea of racing against other kids. While I explained it was less of a race and more of a fun event to test yourself where he’d have me by his side the entire time, he saw it as a competition that he wasn’t ready for. I decided to sign up for an event myself in October 2025 just so I could share a recent story and pictures to help with expectations. The race was epic. Seven miles up and down the beautiful black diamond mountains of the Massanutten, VA Ski Resort with over 25 obstacles interspersed throughout. My performance was underwhelming, but it ultimately accomplished the mission of getting Sam a little more interested in beginning to consider doing an event of his own.

Over the winter, we did a few hikes where we’d pretend to complete various obstacle course challenges. In swimming, he tested out of his age group and was placed in the class for kids two to three years older than him. In gymnastics class one day, all the kids did a dead hang contest and my dude comfortably remained on the bar for over two minutes before the last kid dropped. A few days later, I challenged him to see if he could beat his dad in a dead hang. Like his classmates, I fell just before two minutes while he made it to three and a half. All of these experiences were progressively building his confidence. His hard work and good attitude were beginning to produce results which in turn made him interested in further testing himself.

Keeping my eye on the Spartan event calendar, we finally found a good weekend for an event nearby in Poconos, PA on July 11th. Just he and I would make the ninety minute trip while his mom and my in-laws watched the other kids during the hot July afternoon.

On the way up in the morning, Sam admitted he was feeling pretty nervous. We talked about how feeling anxious just shows you care and how the feeling of excitement and nervousness is identical in the body. I told him about all the things that make me nervous and how it’s a great reminder each time that these feelings only show those things still matter to me. Our goal for the next few hours would be to save that energy, knowing we will want to leverage it when it came time to get moving. To relax the nerves and distract the mind, we decided to listen to some music starting with his current favorite song “I’m Good” by Jelly Roll. After it finished, we thought the words “I’m good” would be an excellent motto to remember whenever we felt the nerves building up or when things get especially challenging during the race.

We thankfully arrived two hours early as the registration process took over an hour to get through while Sam searched for different kinds of rocks or climbed onto my shoulders. Once we got in, we found our way over to the kids area. As we settled in, Sam noticed kids finishing from a previous race covered in mud, sweat, and smiles. I told him those kids were smiling because nothing feels better than overcoming a challenge. It didn’t matter what place they were coming in, it just matters they finished. He also noticed how big some of the kids were warming up for his race. I reminded him he will be one of the younger and smaller runners as the recommended age for this event was seven to nine years old with him only being six and a half and on the smaller side for his age just like I had always been. Just like the kids who were still finishing up with their race, we discussed our primary goals were to try our best and have fun doing it.

After completing our jumping jack warmup, we entered the start area ten minutes before race time. We saw the first 100 yards of 1.5km course was a steady uphill climb. Learning from my past mistakes, I told him most kids are going to take off in a sprint to get out in front. Our goal will be to settle into a comfortable jog that allows us to keep moving with controlled breathing. He liked that idea and told me to keep it down so other kids wouldn’t hear the plan.

The race announcer came out to have everyone yell “I am a Spartan” before getting things rolling. In typical fashion, we weren’t loud enough the first time so he had everyone yell it again. Sammy liked that. His quiet nature had him just mouth the words the first time, but he fully yelled it the second time around. We were then on our way.

Around sixty kids were in his heat and he was definitely on the smaller end. As we predicted, most of them took off in a sprint while he stuck to the plan. Jogging at a manageable pace where he could still occasionally take a breath in through his nose was what he said he would do and he executed flawlessly despite being toward the back of the pack. After crawling under some ropes and climbing over a few walls, Sam was already starting to pass some kids who either were asking for help on the walls or taking short breaks.

As he navigated up and down some muddy hills and through the pools of water in between, I could see the fatigue setting in. His adorable, determined face was puckering more as he began breathing primarily through his mouth. He asked me if I could carry him for a bit after completing the muddy hills when he saw he was in for another uphill run for about 50 yards. As much as I wanted to hug and carry him for a bit, I told him he should try walking and breathing through his nose for a bit before taking a break or getting any help from me. After taking less than 10 steps walking, he decided to start jogging again at a comfortable pace. He wasn’t passing kids during this time but he also wasn’t getting passed.

The next few obstacles required the skill of climbing. Being his favorite thing to do, the joy of navigating a metal contraption he had to scale along before hitting a bell seemed to lift his spirits. He picked up the pace as he ran to the rope climb over a wooden A-frame. Having already been scaled by hundreds of kids that day, this thing was wet, muddy, and therefore very slippery. Sam waited for his turn as he watched kids continue to struggle and fail at getting over this obstacle. Often parents would help or kids would stop to take a break while someone else gave it a try. When a rope became available, Sam grabbed on, sat back, and walked up the wall perfectly on his first attempt as kids continued to slip, fall, and ask for help all around him. He had covered some ground after climbing down the other side and was now in the middle of the pack.

We could see a big, rocky hill in front of us. What we couldn’t see were the 20lb sandbags waiting at the bottom for each kid to carry up and then back down the obstacle. Sam is 45lbs soaking wet. Carrying almost half his body weight, especially on an unstable incline, was going to be a new challenge for him. He impressively heaved the bag up and bear hugged it to his chest. I told him it was a great grip but he needed to watch his footing as he walked up the hill. Within ten seconds, he slipped and dropped the bag. He picked it up again but then dropped it shortly after due to the weight and loose ground he was standing on. Looking up the hill and how much further he still had to go, he looked at me and concerningly said, “I don’t know if I can do this dad.” Again wanting to jump in and help like many parents were doing, I instead suggested he try different ways to drag it up the hill. Forward, backward, along his side with one or both hands, each way allowed for a change in pace and potential mini breaks for the muscles being primarily worked in a given movement. Slowly but surely he made his way up the hill. At one point, he stopped to help another kid grab the sandbag he had just dropped when falling. Proud moment for me. What a demonstration of character. First race, lot of perceived pressure, struggling on the hardest obstacle, yet still considerate of others. When he reached the top I could see a grin forming on his face in realizing what he just accomplished on his own. As he started to slide down the muddy hill with his sandbag, I asked him “How are you feeling son?” He briefly connected eyes with me responding with “I’m good” while giving me a smirk indicating he remembered the motto we discussed. This was the first but not last time I’d tear up this afternoon. The spirit he demonstrated on that hill despite what could have been overwhelming frustration and fatigue was beautiful to watch. It was hard, it hurt, and he fell down several times. His attitude and focus, however, never faltered.

At the bottom of the hill he took off around a long turn only to find another hill that was steeper and taller than the previous one. Thankfully, no sandbag needed this time. He resorted to bear crawling up the slippery parts and found a way to start catching up with other kids as he dug in. By the time he reached the bottom, he was probably in the top ten of kids regardless of parental support. He took off running at his fastest pace yet and would only be passing more peers while not getting passed for the rest of the race.

After a few impressive completions of climbing obstacles, Sammy found himself standing by another pile of sandbags. The task was to pick one up and carry it 15 yards out and back on relatively level ground. Two older kids were dragging their bags along as Sam powerfully deadlifted his up and squeezed it to his chest as he proceeded to run to the end and back flying by both kids. Both the volunteers helping at this station were excitedly cheering him on as he fell into the pile of sandbags where he started. One said, “well that was the coolest thing I’ve seen all day” as Sam sprinted on after his wipe out.

The last climbing and crawling obstacles were spaced out between some trail runs. I actually needed to pick up my own pace to keep up with Sam at this point. After passing a few more kids as he sped through the last few stations, he told me how great he felt right before he turned on the afterburners and sprinted the last 30 yards.

The elation he demonstrated after running through the finish line was a beautiful moment. “Let’s go!” “You did it!” “Whoo!” are all things I could see and barely hear him saying to himself as he retrieved his medal. He completed his first competition of any kind and did it all on his own. Without prompting, he proudly said to himself before taking a few pictures, “I am a Spartan!”

On the way home, I was telling Sam how proud I was of him. While it was very cool he ended up finishing in the front of the pack of 60 kids mostly bigger and older than him, I told him I was way more impressed in how he did it. He faced genuine adversity several times throughout the race. Despite straining, falling, and bleeding, he never complained, cheated, or mistreated. He finished the second half faster than he started. He found ways to endure, adapt, laugh, and even help someone else who was struggling. He showed he can do hard things, handle uncertainty, and exceed his own expectations when he’s willing to put forth his best effort and attitude. I told him these lessons and those attributes will take him far in life no matter what he decides to do. I finished by saying, “All I know is anyone would be lucky to have a guy like you on their team. I’m really glad you’re on mine buddy. I couldn’t have prayed for a son better than you.” I checked the rear view mirror to see a little sparkle in his tired eyes as he responded with “I’m just really thankful you’re my dad.” A few moments later, he was asleep and I had my second wonderful cry of the day.

There is nothing I have accomplished or will ever accomplish in this life that will top moments like these. Of all the roles I’ve had, being a father is the most rewarding and challenging. Core memories like this one are reminders the daily grind, unknown impacts, and continuously changing phases of development are worth the patience, empathy, and endurance.

All we ultimately control is the attitude and effort behind our actions. My son demonstrated the power of this perspective and provided a lesson I will continue to strive for in all domains of life.

If there’s anything I hope to accomplish in this life, it’s raising my kids into resilient adults while being a dad they are thankful to have.