The Real Race Starts Today

Life Before Running

When I think about my life, it seems like somebody else's story that I know well. I could give you a whole bunch of horror stories about what my life was like before I began running. To sum it up, for a long time, I was a really scared individual that looked for acceptance and approval wherever I could get it, so I turned to drugs and alcohol. Turns out they were very poor solutions to my problems.

I made a stop in all of Illinois’s finest institutions: jail, hospital, and rehab. After leaving rehab in a moment of desperation, I received the greatest gift that I’ve ever gotten—true sobriety from the rooms of recovery. With amazing humans and a program of action, this beautiful thing called life materialized in ways I could never have imagined. I tell all of that for no other reason than this is my story about running and life, both of which would never, and I mean never, be possible without that gift that was freely given to me, and continues one day at a time.

The Gift of Sobriety

Several years passed and my life got good. Real good. The gifts that sobriety gave me were numerous. I couldn’t even count them if I tried. Simply saying, “I’m grateful to be here,” is a massive understatement, but it sums it up pretty well.

I've always liked staying active. At the time, my job was pretty physical and I went to the gym regularly. Once COVID happened and the gyms shut down, my main hobby of lifting was put to the side. One Sunday while in lockdown, I randomly decided that I was going to run around my block. Still being a smoker at the time, it seemed like a pretty big challenge. I made it about a half a mile. When I got back to my house, I sat with a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes and reveled in my accomplishment. After that moment, I decided that as long as the lockdowns were going on and the gyms were closed, I'd add a little bit more to my runs each week.

Pushing Past Personal Limits

One week, I ran out of my subdivision, across the main road, and kept running for what seemed like forever. When I got home, I hopped in my car to retrace my tracks. It turned out I'd gone a little over 7 miles. This was wild because at the time, the farthest I'd ever gone was 3 miles tops. I spent the rest of the day smoking cigarettes and wondering when my legs were going to fall off.

A few months later, I had another gift of sobriety. My wife and I closed on our first home together. We decided we wanted our house to be smoke-free, so we both quit smoking that summer—that was hard.

The First Race (and then Some)

Shortly after we moved in, I signed up and ran my first 5k in 24-25 minutes. Not great, not awful, but it showed me that if I worked X amount, I got X results. So, I signed up for another 5k and decided I would put the work in. When I showed up at that race, I would be the best version of myself. Something I still do to this day.

One day I went out for a run wearing a Walmart watch that my wife had bought me. This run felt different. When I left the house, I just kept going farther and farther away. It seemed like I was running for ages and time slipped by until eventually I felt I'd been gone long enough, so I turned back and started running home.

When I got back, my legs were beaten and I was dehydrated. When I stopped my watch, I looked at it in shock. It showed I went 28 miles! I couldn't believe it. Up to that point, I'd only ever gone as far as 8 miles.

I was so excited, feeling like I was pretty good at this running thing. So, I decided to find a marathon to run. At this time, there weren't any upcoming marathons, but there was a 40-mile relay race in Charleston, IL. It was a big 40-mile loop that you did with a team of three to five people. I figured if I could run 28 miles then surely I could WILL the last 12 miles.

The Longest Race to Date

I signed up to run it solo, marking the date on my calendar. I decided to put my best foot forward and show up as the best version of myself for that race. Race day came, and I must have looked worried because the officials came up to me assuring me that they would wait however long it took for me to finish. The race began and off I went.

To say it was difficult is a drastic understatement. I scuffled. I limped. I walked, yelled, cursed, and even contemplated crawling because surely nothing could make my body feel worse. Finally, I came to a little town with an aid station wondering how on earth I was going to make it. And when a volunteer let me know that I was only halfway, I thought that couldn't be right. I've run 20 miles before and it felt NOTHING like this.

I left that aid station angry at the volunteers and race director for marking the course wrong. I hobbled along and at some point I remembered what the officials had said, and in that moment I decided, walk, crawl, run, whatever happened, I was going to finish. And I did. I don't remember how much time it took me, but all the runners had long since gone home. It was just one volunteer and the race director who cheered me in. At the finish, I was in pain, overjoyed, crying, and so happy to be done.

Realizing the Mistake

After that 40-mile race, I realized my Walmart watch had inaccurately recorded me going 63 miles instead of the true 40 miles. It was calculating my stride incorrectly. So the day I thought I had run 28 miles, I realized I had only run 13. If I had known the truth, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to tackle a 40-miler. Ignorance is a powerful thing.

After that 40-mile race, I wondered what else I was capable of. So, I signed up for a 100k (62 miles) race. It was the next most challenging thing I had ever done, and it exposed me to a whole new running community I didn't know existed or needed. Next, I wanted to do what everybody in the community does and run 100 miles.

Scoring the Biggest Win

I put in the work and showed up the best version of myself that day. I was in the best shape of my life and felt confident. I started with what I thought was a decent pace, a little faster than I should have. I completed the first 50 miles in 9 hours and the last 50 in 21 hours. I didn’t know you could walk so slow and not be stopped or that you could hurt so bad and not be dying. The last 10 miles took me over 7 hours, and I truly believed I was never getting out of those woods. After a long day, and night, and another day, I was finished. I was completely wrecked. My hair even hurt. But I did it. Because even if it looked like garbage, I scored the biggest win I ever could—I showed myself I could do this. And that’s what running has done for me.

I signed up for another race, this time 112 miles, determined to do better in Belleville, WI. Standing on the starting line, I realized everything I had learned and been working towards somehow landed me in a place I’ve never been to, facing the longest race of my life, with no one I knew except my wife. I couldn’t have been more in love with the moment. If you had asked me to draw up the most gorgeous life when I was using and drinking, it wouldn’t hold a candle to the life I live now.

Racing & Happiness Continues

I ran the race in Belleville, WI in under 24 hours. So far since then, I've run 4 other +100 mile races under 24 hours. My next hardest challenge was running a 200-mile race. The biggest difference about this race was that it took me 100 miles and a whole day to even get to the REAL challenging part. I could write a whole novel about what went on during the 65 hours and 5 minutes I spent running through the woods, but the biggest was needing a change in my career.

Starting at SCHEELS

A week after the race, I found myself applying for a manager position at SCHEELS. I was hired in June 2023 as the Men's Athletic Shoes Manager working alongside my coworker Jay. Now, I get to run to work every day and spend my days talking about shoes and running. Truly a gift. Every day I run to work with the idea of finding the best version of me, the best version of me I get to share with the people throughout my day. Life gets hard regardless of the work I put in, running does make it easier and it helps sharpen the tools to navigate the hard times better.

In the past several years, I’ve done a lot of races, and for every high there’s a low. My next attempt at a 200 mile race was in April 2024 in Georgia, which did not go as planned. I did my usual. I put in the work, got myself physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually fit for this. Soon, I was in Georgia, and somehow already lined up for the race. All of us runners took off through the mountains.

Finding My Best Version

It started amazing. I ran the first 103 miles in 21 hours (a new 100 mile record for me), but that was quickly followed by the slowest pace I’d ever gone.

After the first 105 miles, I fell apart. It took me 11.5 hours to complete 13 miles. Bugs on the trail were moving faster than me. I had never felt pain like that and haven’t since. My wife met me at the next aid station where I dropped out. My first DNF (did not finish). It stung. It was the longest flight back home. But after some time, I realized it wasn’t a loss. I still completed all my training and preparation. Even though I dropped, through the journey, I still found the new best version of me. It was a win. And after that race, through the summer and fall, I managed a 24-hour race win and course record. A 6-hour race win (41.41 miles) and a 100 race win and course record.

Sobriety and running have helped me find my purpose. My purpose is the same, regardless of what’s going on around me, what’s happening in the world or anything. Wake up, show up, and try to find the best version of myself to help somebody else become the best version of themselves. Because of that purpose, every amount of acceptance, validation, joy, comfort that I was ever searching for in a bottle or a bag, I have today through running. And maybe the coolest part of it all is I get to find a better me tomorrow.