The Unfortunate Decline of America Through the Lens of OCR

I recently completed the Spartan Ultra in Colorado Springs at Fort Carson, one of Spartan’s Honor Series events.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

An event designed to honor military service, sacrifice, discipline, accountability, and integrity instead became one of the clearest examples of how far we’ve drifted from those values.

I’ve been running Spartan races since 2011.

I’ve watched the brand evolve from a niche challenge pursued by serious athletes, military personnel, veterans, first responders, and ordinary people looking to test themselves into something very different. Back then, obstacles mattered. Rules mattered. Most importantly, character mattered.

The athletes who showed up weren’t always the fastest, strongest, or most talented.

Many failed obstacles.

Many struggled.

Many spent significant portions of their races completing burpees.

But they completed them.

Not because someone was standing over them with a clipboard, but because they understood the point.

Spartan wasn’t simply about crossing a finish line. It was about discovering who you were when things became difficult.

If you missed a spear throw, you dropped for 30 burpees.

If you failed a wall, you dropped for 30 burpees.

If you couldn’t complete an obstacle, you accepted the consequence.

The lesson wasn’t about physical fitness.

The lesson was about integrity.

Today, those athletes still exist.

Unfortunately, they’re becoming the minority.

At Fort Carson I witnessed countless examples of what has become normalized throughout modern OCR.

Athletes openly using chalk where prohibited.

Athletes taking multiple attempts on obstacles that clearly allow only one.

Athletes skipping obstacles entirely.

Athletes bypassing long, difficult sections of the course, including an uphill barbed wire crawl, while proudly announcing, “We all get the same medal anyway.”

That statement may have been intended as a joke.

I don’t think it was.

I think it perfectly captures the mindset that has infected not just OCR, but much of modern society.

The reward matters.

The effort does not.

The appearance of accomplishment matters.

The accomplishment itself does not.

The rules only matter when they’re convenient.

Accountability only matters when someone is watching.

And if no one is watching, anything goes.

What’s perhaps most disappointing is that Spartan itself appears to be contributing to the problem.

In an effort to remain relevant and attract broader participation, obstacles have become significantly easier than they were a decade ago.

Penalty loops have largely replaced meaningful consequences.

Many obstacles now have little impact whatsoever on race outcomes.

Competitors frequently choose penalty loops without even attempting obstacles. Others skip both and continue racing.

Volunteers, many of whom are unpaid and undertrained, are often placed in impossible positions. Some don’t know the rules. Others don’t care. Others simply don’t want the confrontation.

The result is predictable.

A sport supposedly centered around obstacle completion has become increasingly disconnected from obstacles.

Were burpees perfect?

Absolutely not.

The standards varied.

Execution varied.

Enforcement varied.

They required staffing and oversight.

But they did create something today’s system often fails to create: immediate accountability.

You either completed the consequence or you didn’t.

What exists today relies almost entirely on the honor system inside a culture that increasingly sees honor as optional.

For years, I gave Spartan a pass.

After all, Spartan was never really a pure obstacle racing organization.

At its best, it was a grit company.

A lifestyle company.

A personal development company disguised as a race series.

The obstacles were simply the vehicle.

The true product was self-discovery.

People showed up believing they were capable.

The course showed them otherwise.

Then it challenged them to become better.

That mission mattered.

It changed lives.

But somewhere along the way, in trying to remove barriers to participation, we began removing the very lessons that made participation meaningful.

When failure carries no consequence, success loses value.

When rules become optional, integrity becomes irrelevant.

When everyone receives recognition regardless of effort, eventually effort disappears.

As a Spartan SGX Coach for more than a decade and someone whose livelihood is directly connected to OCR through my gym, I’ve watched this transformation with growing concern.

I’ve offered assistance.

I’ve shared feedback.

I’ve even reached out directly to Joe De Sena over the years.

Like many others who care deeply about the future of this sport, those efforts have largely gone unanswered.

Meanwhile, coaches and facilities that could genuinely help athletes improve are increasingly cut off from reaching the very audience Spartan claims to serve.

The people who still want the challenge.

The people who still want accountability.

The people who still believe obstacles should matter.

Perhaps the most telling moment of the entire race occurred at the spear throw, one of the few obstacles where burpees still remain.

I watched athletes skip their burpees entirely.

Others performed partial repetitions.

Some simply walked away.

Meanwhile, the occasional volunteer would scrutinize the form of one of the few honorable competitors still attempting to complete them correctly.

If that isn’t a perfect metaphor for modern society, I don’t know what is.

The people trying to do the right thing are held to standards.

The people ignoring the standards are often ignored altogether.

What I witnessed at Fort Carson wasn’t merely a race problem.

It was a cultural problem.

OCR was supposed to teach us something about ourselves.

It was supposed to expose weakness, reveal character, and reward perseverance.

Instead, it increasingly reflects a society that wants rewards without sacrifice, recognition without achievement, and outcomes without accountability.

The obstacle course has always been a metaphor.

The walls, carries, climbs, and crawls represent the challenges we face in life.

Some people attack them head-on.

Some people fail and try again.

Some people suffer through the consequence.

And some people look for the shortest route around them.

The frightening part is that the obstacle course never lies.

It reveals who we already are.

If OCR truly is a mirror, then perhaps what concerns me most isn’t the state of Spartan.

It’s what Spartan now reflects about the state of America.

Because the decline of a race series is insignificant.

The decline of integrity is not.

And unlike a failed obstacle, that’s not something we can simply walk around and pretend doesn’t matter.