There has been an explosion in recent years in obstacle and adventure races, invariably branded with words such as ‘tough’, ‘warrior’, ‘ultimate’ and ‘mud’ (or indeed a combination of these). A cursory search of the internet reveals a catalogue of mass participation military-style assault courses, with eye-watering registration fees to boot. There’s the (deep breath) Spartan Race, Warrior Dash, Tough Mudder, Rat Race, X-runner, Demon Run, and Total Warrior to name but a few. To this relative outsider they all appear to share the same common premise: the promise of an ‘experience’ – albeit a highly sanitised one – an event which mixes the normal demands of running with a varying number of obstacles, and a staggering amount of branding and marketing.
Richard Askwith in his book, Running Free, writes in a fairly sneering and disparaging way about what he terms the ‘Big Outdoors’. He questions: ‘can it really be right for the great outdoors – part of our common heritage – to have been so monetised, and for so many ordinary people to have been persuaded that they need to pay to have outdoor adventures?’ At the same time you sense, grudgingly, a little respect for those entrepreneurs who have successfully created and capitalised on a demand for individuals craving a packaged adventure experience.
My short-lived venture into this world of outdoor adventure races took place a few years ago. It occurred during a particularly low point in my life, which led to me giving myself a bit of a pep talk that went along the lines of ‘grasp new opportunities when they arise’. The latter happened days later when two friends were seeking a new team member to take part in a 10K Commando Challenge. Without taking any time to research what the event would actually entail I enthusiastically agreed, only to later discover the full extent of what I’d signed up for.
The Commando Challenge took place on Woodbury Common near East Budleigh in Devon, utilising (hence its name) an existing military base. Indeed a key component of the advertising is that it sells itself as an opportunity to ‘undertake the same training course used daily by the UK’s Royal Marines’ (and in the process indulging hundreds of would-be soldier fantasies for hundreds of people who can’t be faffed with anything more challenging that you’d actually have to train for) although I suspect none of them are bedecked in fancy dress. As it transpired the cross country run was the easy bit, in comparison to the long underground tunnels that you had to navigate your way through in pitch darkness – not a welcoming prospect to someone who doesn’t like small, confined spaces. My other overriding memory was having to queue for eons for each obstacle and the mountainous amount of mud, so much so that most participants simply discarded their kit when they’d finished.
Looking back now it was an exhilarating experience - one which certainly took me away from my comfort zone – and despite my aversion to some of the obstacles, actually wasn’t that daunting, or tough. Not that it has been something I’ve wished to replicate, much preferring smaller, and considerably cheaper alternatives to run and get covered in mud, such as the Dovedale Dash in the Peak District.
In stark contrast, day #25 of Juneathon proved to be a somewhat more sedate affair. I opted for the familiarity of a homeward bound run commute, so the usual 6.3 miles from Clifton Campus to Sherwood with the only ‘obstacles’ being the hilly but concrete terrain of Mansfield and Hucknall Road.