This year, I got wind of some other friends looking to complete a Spartan Sprint (a brisk 5km and 20 obstacles), and this time around there would be no terrifying mountains in the way. Just 10 burpees would be enough to have me wincing after little exercise in recent months: there were no excuses not to come home with a finishing medal now Looking around the bemused crowd, almost entirely in black T-shirts, eyes hungry to be let loose on the course, it was clear I wasn’t CC’d in the memo. Phil soon turned to me among the hundreds of burly men and women and called me out: firstly, for my mullet and moustache combo (apparently faux 1980s revival has its roots in some very stylish Spartan soldiers) secondly, for my clothing: “I don’t know if your mates encouraged you to wear a white T-shirt, but on an obstacle course like this, it’s gonna get messy.” You can read all about it at /health/your-family

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Dressed like the ancient Greek equivalent of those Abercrombie and Fitch store models, Phil riled up the crowd of wannabe Spartans under his hoplite helmet.

It was intimidating to say the least, approaching the start line of my first obstacle course since spectacularly floundering the last time I undertook one of these kinds of events (like a newborn giraffe walking for the first time).Įnter “Spartan Phil” to settle the nerves.

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