The Real Race Starts Today

When I think about my life, before I started running, I felt like I was sitting on “Someday” street. You know, someday I’ll do this, someday I’ll do that. Truthfully, for the longest time, I was a very scared individual, searching for acceptance and approval from wherever I could get it. That unfortunately led me down a dark path where I found myself lost to drugs and alcohol. I could share all the horror stories, wild parties, and the like about what life was like before running. But those were all poor solutions to my problems, and I’d rather spend time on the good.

Before my running journey, I got to stop in all of Illinois’s finest institutions: jail, hospital, and rehab. I won’t travel too far down that road, but I will share that after leaving rehab in a humbling moment of desperation, I received the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten: true sobriety from the rooms of recovery. With the help and guidance from some amazing people, somewhere in all of that mess, this beautiful thing called life materialized in front of me. It was here in ways I could never have imagined. I share that rough summary 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 life got good. Real good. The gifts that sobriety gave me were numerous. 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. Back in 2019, my job was pretty physical and I went to the gym regularly. Once COVID hit and the gyms were shut down, my main hobby of lifting was put to the side. I’m a guy who likes challenges. So, one random Sunday, I decided that I was going to run around my block. Why not? For a smoker at the time, it seemed like a pretty big challenge to me. Getting myself up, I made it about half a mile before collapsing back at home. Somehow, I managed to drag myself in and sit down with a cup of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. It was a gruesome half a mile, but I was surprised and proud of my accomplishment. From then on, I decided that as long as the quarantine and lockdowns were going on and the gyms weren't open, every week, I'd try to run a little farther.

Pushing Past Personal Limits

That little challenge turned into something much bigger. After spending some time running, managing to get as far as 3 miles, one day I felt so good I reached my normal stopping point and kept going, heading out of my subdivision, across the main road, my legs felt like they could go forever. After I got home, I hopped in my car to retrace my tracks. It turned out I'd gone a little over 7 miles. I was shocked. The rest of the day, I smoked my cigarettes and wondered when my legs would fall off.

A few months later, I received another gift of sobriety. My wife and I closed on our first home together and we decided our new house was going to be smoke-free. So we both quit smoking that summer. I couldn’t tell you what was harder, that first half mile or leaving smoking behind.

The First Race (and then Some)

Shortly after we moved in, I needed a new challenge, and decided I’d sign up for my first 5k. I completed it in 25 minutes. Not great. Not awful. But it shifted my mindset. It showed me that the amount of work I put in would mean I’d get different results. What would happen if I tried racing and trained for it this time? I quickly signed up for another 5k, but this time I was going to put in the work. And when I showed up to that race, I would be the best version of myself. That’s the mindset I still carry with me to this day.

My wife saw how serious I was getting about running and bought me a watch from Walmart. I was excited to test it out, track my distance and time. And this run, it felt different. When I took off from the house, I just kept going farther and farther. 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 around and ran home.

When I got back, my legs were beaten. I was definitely dehydrated. But I stopped my watch—and looked at it in amazement. At this point, the farthest I’d gone was 8 miles. With my brand new watch, it showed I went 28 miles! I simply couldn't believe it. I was so excited and I thought I was pretty good at this running thing. 

So, I decided to find a marathon to run. There weren't any around currently, 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 3-5 people. I figured if I could run 28 miles then surely adding 12 more miles wouldn’t be that bad. I signed up to run it solo. The date was marked on my calendar. I was ready to put my best foot forward and show up as the best version of myself for that race.

The Longest Race to Date

Race day came. I was nervous and 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. I was thankful but didn’t think much of the comment at the time. The race began and off I went.

To say this was difficult is an understatement, it was the hardest race I had ever done. I scuffled. I limped. I walked, yelled, cursed and even contemplated crawling because surely nothing could make my body feel worse. At one point, I reached an aid station. Relieved, thinking we had to be close to the finish, I kept going, wondering how on earth I was going to make it.

While trying to get myself under control, one of the volunteers let me know that I was only halfway. 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. Clearly, they had something wrong. I hobbled along shaking my head at this race. But then I recalled what the officials had said, and in that moment, determination came over me. I decided whether I walked, crawled, or ran, I was going to finish this race. And I did.

Realizing the Mistake

The competitors had long since gone home by the time I reached the finish. It was just one volunteer and the race director who cheered me in. At the end, I can’t describe the emotions that came over me. I was in pain, overjoyed, crying and so happy to have made it all the way to the end.

It’s true having gear you can trust is necessary because after that little 40-mile race, I realized my Walmart watch had inaccurately recorded me. Somehow, during a race tracked at 40 miles, it had me tracked at 63 miles. I found out later, the day I thought I had run 28 miles, I actually ran 13. I can’t say if it was a blessing or a bad luck, but I’m aware of two things: 1) I wouldn’t have had the confidence to tackle a 40-miler without believing I had easily ran 28 miles. 2) Ignorance is a powerful thing.

After that first race, I wanted to know what else I was capable of. I needed to do something new, to challenge myself in a way I had never before. So, I decided to sign up for a 100k (62 miles) race. That experience exposed me to a whole new running community I didn't know existed or needed. Because after meeting them, I wanted to do what everybody in the community does and run 100 miles.

Scoring the Biggest Win

For my first 100 mile race, I put in the work to show up as the best version of myself. I was in the best shape of my life and felt confident. I started off with what I thought was a decent pace, a little faster than I should have. The first 50 miles, I completed in 9 hours. The last 50 miles…21 hours. Never did I realize a person could walk as slow as I was without stopping. Or that I could hurt as bad as I was without dying. Those final 10 miles of the race took me over 7 hours. At a point, I truly believed I was never getting these woods. It took over two days, but I finished. I was completely wrecked, I was in so much pain that even the hair on my head hurt. But despite the pain,the fight, the struggle, at the end I realized I did it. I scored the biggest win of my life at that point by proving to myself I could do this. And that’s what running has really 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 would have 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 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. That was the point I realized another big change I needed in life was my career.

Starting at SCHEELS

A week after that race, I found myself applying for a manager position at Scheels. I was hired in June 2023 as the Men's Athletic Shoes Manager. Now, I get to run to work everyday and spend time talking about shoes and running. Truly, it’s a gift. Everyday while running to work, I take that time to hone in on my mindset, finding the best version of me, the version that helps me share and connect with people throughout my day.

Looking over the years now, since I began this journey in 2019, I’ve competed in a lot of races. For every high there is a low. In April 2024, I attempted another 200-mile race 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 off 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.

Somewhere in the next 105ish miles, I fell apart, taking almost 11.5 hours to complete the 13 miles. Bugs on the trail were moving faster than me. The pain was so unimaginable, on a level I have never experienced before and haven’t since, that when I met my wife at the next aid station, I dropped out. My first DNF (did not finish). To put it mildly, I was crushed and the flight back home was a mental battle. Somewhere after accepting that bitter performance, I had to look at it differently. This was a failure, but it wasn’t a loss. Because while things didn’t go to plan during the race, I still did everything I needed to do. I completed my training. I was prepared as best I could be. But sometimes, that’s not enough. Successes ignite confidence like nothing else, but there’s something about failure that truly brings out the best side of yourself. It’s humbling, yet strengthening. In the end, I viewed this a different kind of win, a win for my character. That following summer, I managed a 24 hour race win and set a new course record. In the fall, I completed a 6 hour race win (41.41 miles) and a 100 race win and set a new course record. 

Sobriety and running have helped me find my purpose: Regardless of what’s going on around me, I am going to show up and aim to be the best version of myself. Maybe even help somebody else become the best version of themselves. That scared man I was, who was looking for acceptance, validation, joy, comfort, everything I thought I’d find in a bottle or a bag, I have today through running. The coolest part of it all? I get to keep living my purpose, one day at a time.