The Scourge of RBF

I have to admit a bit of trepidation about this post. I’m confessing something personal, and embarrassing, but I’m hoping that by telling my story I can raise awareness and understanding and make the OCR world a slightly kinder, friendlier place.

Ridiculously Photogenic Guy

I hate every day I’m not this guy.

You see, there are many people who are ridiculously photogenic, even in the midst of a tormentous physical task that mere mortals would cower in the face of. These people are celebrated, and rightfully so: their broad, welcoming grins spread joy and inspiration and make everything feel okay, even that time you got pantsed in second grade. By the teacher.

But unfortunately, some people simply can’t be ridiculously photogenic. Some people have mouths that contort into vicious snarls, eyes that become slits that medieval knights shot crossbows out of, and noses that just sit there on their face, being all nosy. And I’m one of those people.

I have Racing Bitch Face.

Racing Bitch Face

It’s not my fault this is my face.

It’s a face that makes brave children run in terror, brave women question their life choices, and brave men wee themselves. When I offer a boost at the wall, the typical response is, “You know, I think I’ll take the burpees instead. In fact, I’ll do a few extra just to give you a bit of time to clear out.” I understand that. It’s not a good face.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. Racing Bitch Face, or RBF, is purely a surface condition. Those of us who suffer from it are, frankly, the nicest humans who have ever lived. We make Mother Theresa look like Mommie Dearest.

Mommie Dearest

Yeah, post-wire hangers.

So when you are on the course and see someone with Racing Bitch Face, don’t run or cower or demand that a course volunteer beat us up. Recognize that our hearts burn with friendship, even though our faces burn with the pure hate of a billion suns. Show the same courage to our fearsome features that you show at the start of a multi-mile march through the mucky unknown. Accept our outstretched wrist, rather than sliding down a slick muddy hill on your face. Let us share your Atlas Stone load, rather than trying to throw it at our chest in horror but actually just dropping it on our feet, because those things are really fucking heavy. And please, please, please don’t punch us in terror when we let you brace yourself against our feet on the slip wall.

Together, we can overcome the scourge of Racing Bitch Face. Because all faces are OCR faces.



Filed under Funny, Obstacle Course Racing

2 responses to “The Scourge of RBF

  1. Pingback: Accepting the Negativity | Fat Boy Big Wall

  2. Pingback: 2016 Chicago Spartan Photos: Why Aren’t These Worse? | Fat Boy Big Wall

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