Long before Spartan became a household name, I organized an event that would go down in history among my friends. I called it The Superman.

It was a brutal 26-mile course through the rugged mountains of Vermont, starting in Pittsfield and ending at the Killington Grand Hotel. Sounds epic, right? It was. But when I tried to recruit participants for it, I hit a wall.

No one wanted to sign up. The challenge seemed too outrageous, even for my crew.

So, I did what any desperate event organizer would do—I lied. I called up friends from Wall Street, family, and pretty much anyone I could think of and told them I was hosting a barbecue at my farm.

Who could resist a weekend of relaxation, cold drinks, and hot dogs in beautiful Vermont? Not many, apparently. About 2,000 people showed up.

At 5 AM on that Saturday morning, the real plan was set in motion. I woke everyone up, groggy and confused, wondering why we were starting so early for a barbecue. “We have to carry the barbecue up the mountain,” I told them.

That’s when it hit them. This wasn’t a cozy weekend getaway—it was a 26-mile endurance race. No one knew they had signed up for this.

Among the unsuspecting participants were a couple of my close buddies, Kenny and James. Both were far from peak physical condition at the time, and as we marched into the misty Vermont wilderness, the absurdity of the situation became clearer. They grumbled, they sweated, and they suffered, but they kept moving forward.

That’s what Spartan is all about, isn’t it? Enduring, no matter what.

Hours later, most of the group triumphantly reached the Killington Grand Hotel, exhausted but elated. But not Kenny and James.

They had only managed to cover half the distance. I had to send out ATVs to rescue them after 13 miles, and when we found them, they were face-down in the dirt, barely able to speak (OK, slight exaggeration). Yet, despite their exhaustion, they recounted the most bizarre story.

They claimed that a woman in a red Mazda had pulled up next to them on a barely passable mountain road, dressed in high heels, makeup done-up, asking for directions to a place called Rainey Avenue.

I thought they were hallucinating. How could anyone drive a Mazda up that mountain? It was all dust and treacherous terrain.

That night, we laughed it off as a product of exhaustion and dehydration. Hallucinations are pretty common in extreme challenges, after all. Climbers, explorers, even soldiers in survival situations often report strange sightings when they’re pushed to the brink.

There’s even a term for it—the third man factor. When your body is at the brink, your brain fills in the gaps, creating things that aren’t there. Legendary adventurers like Sir Ernest Shackleton experienced it, and now, apparently, so had my friends.

But here’s where things get interesting. Years later, while hiking near my backyard, I met a chef from Killington Resort. During our conversation, he mentioned that he lived on Rainey Avenue. I froze. Rainey Avenue did exist. Maybe that woman in the red Mazda was real after all.

What started as a bluff to get people moving became an unforgettable experience filled with laughter, struggle, and stories that have grown larger with each telling. And isn’t that what Spartan is all about? Pushing people past their limits, creating memories that last a lifetime, and finding out that sometimes, the wildest stories are the ones that end up being true.

Here’s to the races we don’t know we’ve signed up for.

Want to hear more reasons why this community pushes their limits? Read on.

Here’s to The Hard Way!

Joe