Solo & sore at the Zoo..

 

Did I pay just to eat dirt?

I ask myself that between gasps of air, somewhere around obstacle six, while inhaling a very questionable smell. For someone who once couldn’t watch a movie without company, wouldn’t dare eat dinner alone, and believed solo travel was basically a cry for help; here I am, voluntarily crawling under barbed wire and scaling walls. Spartan Race #2. Venue: Al Ain Zoo. Because clearly, I make excellent life choices.

Somewhere after 2020-21, when the world went quiet, some people discovered baking. Others mastered DIY. I… took two years to stop sulking. But slowly, I learned to drive alone, cheer for myself, and actually enjoy my own company. I learned to sit in silence without mistaking it for loneliness. So when Spartan rolled around, I dragged my usual Spartan friends for the first race in 2025. But for the second one in 30 days, they’d had enough of my enthusiasm and politely opted out. So I went.

Alone.

Of course, reality isn’t a cinematic montage. I conquered the rope climb for the first time; thirty glorious seconds of triumph; before I lost my J-hook and slid down faster than a fireman. I had forgotten my gloves in the car. Now I’ve got bandages on nine fingers and washing my a** itself is an ordeal. My inner voice, between throbs, whispered, “Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

But here’s the funny part. It’s not about medals, likes, or applause. It’s about that beautiful ache the next day that says, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. There’s a strange, quiet joy in pain you choose for yourself. Maybe to meet the real me. Maybe to build a world where I don’t need company to exist.

Or maybe… because madness, in the right dose, feels a lot like freedom.

Dedicated to all my fellow Spartans: Ravi Pannikkat, Vinod Raman Wariath, Lavanya Laxman, Vishnu VJ, Abhilash Mohan, Shiny Asma, Liny Panicker, Feroz Abdulla, Dhanya Cyriac and Manoj Nair. Honestly, it would have been better with you all