September 18.

A day just like any other, really. Well, for probably everyone other than me.

September 18th 2012 is a day that will forever be imprinted in my memory, and life.

For that is the day I was to complete my suicide, but instead turned to running.

Sitting on a couch, weighing 274 pounds, depressed and ready to throw the towel in; I was inspired to go for a run.

Only God knows why He whispered in my ear to go for a run, but for that small bit of personal and direct attention I am eternally grateful.

The last two years have been full of highs, and lows.
 Ups and downs. 
Good times and bad.

One of my lowest times has been…..well, right now.

I’m injured, and as a result I’m hurt. I spent the summer training diligently, working hard to develop a fall/winter race schedule that had every aspect of being life changing. Beginning with a 100K that most said was “too crazy” to tackle, quickly followed by a few marathons, continuing in a 300+ mile trek along the coast of North Carolina, just the first two months of the season looked promising.

And then, injury struck.

No running. No nothing, really.

How am I supposed to be who I am, without being able to do what I do?

As a person that struggles with depression, I was no stranger to the immediate turn of my thoughts once I accepted my short-term running destiny.

While still operating in with a clear mind, I knew I needed to find a way to set goals and work toward them, even while injured. I know that goal-getting is what helped save my life, and failing to continue that behavior was going to be the iceberg to sink my Titanic.

I could insert a million logistical ideas here, about eating properly, cross-training, and continuing to remain positive; however, the minutia of each task requires pin-point accuracy tailored to each person, ability, particular injury and a myriad of other details. So, suffice to say that while injured, you must not lose track of your eating, your cardiovascular training, and your attitude. All of which are crucial to a successful return.

I would rather touch on something that is less talked about when injured; the psychology of being an injured athlete.

We often identify ourselves with what we do. A recent study asked 100 people to introduce themselves to the group, and nearly 90% began with their employment title. This demonstrates that we typically identify ourselves with what we do, professionally or otherwise. We see it often in a group, when someone announces that they are a runner. We all do it, so don’t get self-conscious about it, but be aware of it. The reason we need to be aware of it, is to avoid a pitfall that we can all slip into while injured or out; and that is believing the lie that if we can not train for a length of time, we lose our identity, or who we are.

You are a runner, but that is simply something you do.

You may glean certain characteristics and behaviors intrinsically tied to being a runner, but simply being a runner is not sufficient to describe who you are…you are so much more.

As runners we are often goal-oriented, driven, relentless individuals that will stop at nothing to attain the dream we have set our sights on…but that isn’t necessarily just because you run. Those are behaviors that you have adopted through running, but not every runner does that. Runners can be nice or mean, polite or impolite, fast or slow, pace-driven or Zen runners; and because runners can vary so greatly, simply identifying as a runner only means that you participate in leaning forward, and moving your legs….it is not your identity. It is simply something you do.

For some it is a means of physical health, for others spiritual health, and for others it mean mental health; but rest assured, running is not who you are.

I stress this because when injured, you may find yourself feeling low, looking to add to your already down time by believing the lie that if you cannot run, you cannot be a “runner” or yourself.

So, how do we avoid this? By continuing to employ the behaviors and measures that you do while running. Simply put, be the runner you wish to be, even while not running.

Be driven, goal-oriented and relentless throughout your recovery.

Be helpful, altruistic and inspirational through your recovery.

Set goals (work races, crew an ultra runner, cross train)

Be relentless (Recover as hard as you train)

Be inspirational (remember, all the world is watching….what will you show them?)

Be you. Everything you put into your running is not lost. You will return. You will heal. You are still you.

You’re work is not erased.

You’re still a runner, but that is only because you run….YOU are much more than just a runner.

You are too big for just one title.

Too great to stuff into one small box.

So, I ask you….what will you show the world today about who you are?

Not what you do, but who you are….what will it be?

I find that the older I get, the more I reflect on my life. It's inevitable I suppose as we begin to come to grips with our own mortality. Perhaps as we move through life and begin to realize that not only are we not invincible, but our clocks are perpetually winding down, regardless of what steps we take to feel as if we are beating the clock or slowing our own journey toward our promised end.

I've been thinking back on my life on my recent runs. I always do. There isn't much else to think about after my typical thoughts dwindle down into nothing.

A mainstay question I've been asking myself is why do I do the things i do.

Why do I push like this?

Why do I feel a very real drive, if not fear, to push myself so hard that I perpetually feel that I'm at my breaking point?

What is it that drives me....motivates me....inspires me to do these things I do?

I suppose to better understand the here and now, there is always a necessary reflection; a back story. Behavior is not a chance decision fueled by the here and now; no, behavior is a sum total of a lifetime of experiences, happenings, memories, joys, and pain.

My father died when I was seven months old, just months after my older brother died at the age of two. I was raised with stories about a man that was kind, funny, reckless and generally irresponsible; regardless, I always wanted to be just like my dad, a tough order to fill sight unseen. He would do anything for anyone, was quick to laugh, and loved a party lifestyle. As I grew up, my mother and I became well acquainted with struggle. We typically lived with other family members, or in small apartments. As a young single mother with a child to care for, my mother began stringing a life together based on making here and now decisions driven by survival. When I was in middle school my mother brought a guy home from the bar, and he never left. He wasn't there because he loved my mother, and he certainly wasn't there because he loved me. He was a typical addict and abuser. Violent, unstable and ready to whatever he felt necessary to get what he wanted at that moment. I was twelve when he moved in, and in no time we were homeless. After a time we got a trailer on the bad side of town, but I had my own bedroom and it wasn't a 1985 Datsun, so who was I to complain. He never held a job for long, if at all, so my mother spent her time working, stressing, and making excuses as to why it was ok for this guy to abuse us. It was as if I was supposed to feel sorry for a guy that refused to work, smoked pot all day, screamed at me daily, and physically abused a kid. I never felt sorry for him. In fact, I only felt hate for him. I hated him. I hated everything about him, and because he was forced into my life, I hated my life.

I dropped out of high school, got a few jobs, and moved out at 16. I worked at the local mall as a maintenance man, and I saw my previous high school friends often. I tried to avoid them when I saw them coming. It was bad enough I was a trailer-trash kid that was always in the same clothes, but now I could add drop out to the list. I was proud to be on my own, and embarrassed and ashamed that I had nothing that resembled the lives of my former friends.

At that point I had no friends.

I couldn't.

I was worthless.

At 18 I joined the Army, and shipped off. I did well. I excelled. I often found myself competing with those around me, although they didn't know we were competing. My feelings of being ashamed and embarrassed drove me to never rest. I had to be the best at everything, or at least better than everyone around me. I graduated basic training as an honor graduate. Same for my advanced individual training. I volunteered for everything. Everyone hated me, and I knew it. I couldn't just be like everyone else, I had to stand out. I had to push. People don't like overachievers.

I finished my enlistment and moved to New York with my girlfriend. In no time we had broken up, and I moved to a new city. Within months I was well-known and the center of the party. I made it my mission to be the guy that everyone wanted to hang out with. My new obsession.

I maintained my party lifestyle through a few moves, a new relationship, a marriage and a divorce. Living a ridiculously fast-paced social life was far more important than something trivial like my family responsibilities. I was well-known, fun to be with, and loved to party. I guess I hit the mark, just like dear old dad.

I met my wife when I was almost thirty. I was running a bar, living fast, and still well-known for being the life of the party. It wasn't long before she gave me an ultimatum; it was her or the bar. I wanted the bar. I chose her.

We moved away; I was sure I couldn't live around my old friends and not destroy another relationship. We moved to the DC area, a great change of scenery but we quickly realized that we didn't want to raise a family there. Our next move took us to Nebraska.

What in the hell was I thinking?

I was near family again. I was in a small town where social anonymity didn't exist. I was in a place that was going to force me to make it or break it.

I nearly broke. Several times.

Something was missing, a whole in my heart was so clearly evident that I wondered how I was still alive. In my search for identity, completeness and happiness, I found myself attending a church. Me, in a church. I was surprised they let me in the front door. Quickly my drive surfaced and I found myself growing spiritually at an alarming rate. Overnight nearly everything changed for me. I went from a hard drinking, foul mouthed angry man to preaching and teaching in a three state area. Just as fast as I found myself excelling, I found myself in the cross hairs. People hate overachievers. My own mother fired the first shot, calling the pastor to inform him about my storied history. The all too familiar scent of embarrassment and shame filled my nostrils like a thick smoke. Once your own mother goes on the attack, it isn't long before others join in like kids on a playground, waiting for the first kid to go down the big slide. Chaos ensued. Every decision I made, every word I spoke, every step I took was so heavily scrutinized I felt like my brain was selling my thoughts. And then Jeff killed himself. Jeff was a friend from the church. A good man, tormented by his past, blind to his future. Something unique happens when someone commits suicide. We are a society that operates by assigning blame. Everything is someones fault, and Jeff's suicide quickly became my fault somehow. I quit attending church altogether. I had served my time on a battlefield, and knew the danger of friendly fire all too well to sit in a room full of "friends" itching to get far enough behind my back to fire shots.

Here I am again. Alone.

In less than six months I went from preaching and teaching to avoiding and ignoring. Funny how things work out.

A month before Jeff killed himself I joined the National Guard; the feelings of needing to serve were too great to fend off. After Jeff died, and everything I had worked so hard to build up had been destroyed, nothing seemed important anymore. Nothing felt real. Life felt pointless, like trying to tread water in the middle of the Atlantic with no ships in site.

It was time to accept fate.

I was the same trailer-trash drop out that I had always been, and nothing I tried to do in life would change that.

To say I was depressed feels like a serious failure in truly conveying how I was at that point. I was sad, lonely, angry and exhausted. I was dying.

I had a beautiful baby boy. I had a wife that loved me as best she could. I had a place to call home. I had the things the world told me I needed for happiness. Just another reason I was such a failure. I couldn't even be happy right. My son deserved a father that could show him how to be a happy man, not an overweight, depressed, trailer-trash, failure.

I needed to do something.

The way I saw it, the only thing I could do as a failure in life was succeed at death. I spent weeks preparing my suicide. Every detail was meticulously planned, down to the perfect time of day based on foot traffic on Tuesdays on the particular trail I was going to be completing my suicide on.

Every detail.

Clearly I did not complete my suicide, and sit here today to write these words.

So there it is, a very abbreviated back story bringing me to my question: what inspires me to do the things I do?

Well, first its important to understand that I'm not like a lot of folks in that I find inspiration from negativity. Certain people inspire me; however, when I focus too much on others I find myself quickly assessing why I don't compare and why I am still that failure of a person.

Strange, I know.

Here is something even a bit more strange. I find deep inspiration and motivation in looking back at my past, my history, my failures and my childhood.

Let me explain.

Remember the guy that came home with my mother from the bar and never left? Notice I never call him a man? That's because he isn't a man. In fact, he is everything a man isn't. He is violent, mean spirited, insensitive, selfish, irresponsible, disrespectful, and unloving. He is everything I never want to be, and he motivates me every day to strive to be a man.

Not a guy.

A man.

Remember me saying we were homeless when I was a kid? We lived such an unstable, stressful and generally unhappy life when I was a kid, and that inspires and motivates me to keep a home and home life that is stable, secure, calm, supportive and healthy for my family. My childhood is everything I never want for my kids.

Remember me talking about my failed marriage, poor decisions and hurtful behavior? My own past motivates and inspires me to be better. I have been in jail, been homeless, hurt people that loved me, broken hearts and left a lot of people behind. In my own self-deprecating lifestyle I ruined a marriage and hurt a good woman that had the misfortune of meeting the old me. In my own irresponsible and chaotic decision making I failed to understand that my behavior affects others, and many good people that simply wanted to be my friend paid the price. When I look in the mirror, I see my past and it hurts. Those feelings of shame and embarrassment rush back, and a near panic sets in as if my history is an unescapable pursuer and I am only delaying the inevitable. My own past motivates me and inspires me to be better than that, because as much as people would love to drag me back to those places and times, I choose my own actions and reactions. My future is not steered by my past, only my own presuppositions and behaviors show the remnants of the old me. And my behaviors are absolutely a reflection of who I used to be, because it is the shame and embarrassment that drives me to make better decisions.

I have met hundreds of motivating people in my life, but none more than those that have hurt me the worst.

The abusers.

The naysayers.

The opposers.

The people that refuse to acknowledge my growth and how far I've come.

The reflection in the mirror that says nothing, but tells it all.

I now understand that people DO hate an overachiever. However, the masses hate the few for reasons far deeper than a simple rock of the boat. People are intimidated by severely driven individuals. People look to assign blame; everything is always someones fault. When confronted with a driven person that refuses to stop, people trapped by their own comfort immediately move to not only assign blame, but also dismantle what they feel is threatening. Perhaps you're reading this and feel inspired to overcome some sort of adversity or obstacle in your life right now. I applaud your desire for self-improvement. That humility and honesty will carry far in life. However, if you are reading this and have somehow determined that my history directs my future, that who I am as a man has more to do with a sum total of my poor decisions than what I desire to become; well, you are sadly mistaken.

I have come to realize that I am different than most people, and that's ok.

I have learned that I thrive in a high pressure, intense lifestyle that has me pushed to my very limits perpetually.

I have realized that most people don't, won't, or can't understand most of me, or who I am and that's ok.

I have come to learn about who I am, and I continue to seek out why; and I'm finding that although I haven't always been who I wanted to be, I hold my own destiny in my hands and only I can change those things about me that I need to change.

Some people will enjoy my nonsense. Some will find inspiration or hope. Others will only find their own desire to attack.

I welcome all of it, even the opposition. In fact, I need the opposition in order for me to perpetually refine and improve.

Now, I ask you, "What motivates you to do the things you do?"

Who are you?

Why are you?

Are you growing, living, and learning?

Running will always help your cardiovascular health, but have you taken the time to allow it to permeate who you are? Runners are tough, gritty people that gladly face challenges, overcoming adversity and obstacles along their journey, always seeking to refine and improve. Don't ever fool yourself into thinking that running is a physical sport. Running is a sport centered on the mental stamina of the runner, testing one's ability to take in the current situation, make decisions based on that information, and move on.

Much like life.

So, what inspires you?

And more importantly, are you the person you know you need to be?

Funny thing about life; nobody gets out alive.

I’ve heard this saying countless times, and while novel or catchy, it never meant much to me….until now.

To say that this month has been a bit of a test would be a pretty severe understatement. As a small business operator, July 4th had the makings of a holiday that was sure to set record sales; that is, until we realized that Hurricane Arthur had set his aim on our little island. In the days leading up to the storm we took the precautionary measures we thought we needed to weather the storm. A mandatory evacuation emptied the island, we buttoned things up, and the waiting began. The storm hit overnight, and the store was spared. The village we live in was not. We took on quite a bit of flooding, and the clean up continues today. 

As promised, this is the second part to my earlier post about running advice for beginners, and veterans alike.

The second week of my running career I reached out to another runner, a local State Trooper that ran daily and seemed to enjoy it.

I sheepishly danced around the idea of running together, a thought that intimidated me to my core. How quickly would he see that I was no runner at all?

Along with a newfound social aspect, I was really focusing on finding my limits, my capabilities. I has lost ten or so pounds, and was feeling like running might be something I could stick with for a lifetime; but I needed to make it more….me. I needed to take it to a level that forced me to constantly improve and strive for goals. I had found that goal-getting was keeping my mind off of the suicidal intentions I had just days ago.

What could I do to really test myself?

I’ve got it.

I’ll run from the State Park outside of town, back into town. I had never run longer than 4 miles by this point, so it was fitting to plan a run of this caliber.

With that, I reached out to my new running buddy and the panning began to run my longest distance yet, about nine miles of hilly, windy, highway running.

We set the date and time, and ran that 9-miler just 13 days into my running career.

When I came through the door, my wife had that same look on her face that she sported about two weeks prior upon my return from my first run.

“How was that,” she asked.

“So hard. I hurt so badly. It was perfect,” I answered.

And with that, my running career was cemented.

I was a runner.

Not because of any certain distance or pace.

No, logistics don’t make you a runner.

I wasn’t a runner because I had proven anything to anyone.

I was a runner because I had chosen to become one.

I make that decision daily.

To be a runner.

To be better.

Are you ready for the next bit of advice that I’ve learned?

You are everything you want to be.

Simple, right?

At face value, this doesn’t seem like advice at all but rather a cliché saying found on a motivational poster with some random mountain climber, clinging onto a piece of a mountain while dangling perilously over a frozen expanse.

It’s true though. You are everything you want to be. Now you may be taking inventory of your life and whom you are right now, thinking that I’m a little off. Maybe you have a job you don’t like, aren’t where you want to be in your training, or have some other circumstance in your life that you feel has happened despite what you want.

This is probably where I ruffle a few feathers.

You are everything you want to be.

If you want it bad enough, you’ll make it happen. If not, you’ll make an excuse.

In regards to running, maybe you want to be a marathon runner.

You can be one.

Maybe you’re looking to run your first mile.

You can do that.

You can do whatever you want to do in life.

I’m sure there is someone reading this, thinking about all of the reasons I’m wrong here, looking for every reason why they can’t be what they want, or have what they want, or do what they want.

Frankly put, that mindset is your problem.

If, when challenged with life positioning statements and choices, you immediately turn to all of the reason why you can’t….you won’t.

Henry Ford once said, “Whether you think you can, or think you can’t. You’re right.”

It is true.

I see a lot of folks lately telling the world about how bad off they have it, as if to leverage for the position of “Worst Off.”
Why?

Why try to list for the world all of the reasons you can’t?
Why focus on all of the reasons you should not be able to do something?
When I started running I was overweight, clearly depressed to the point of suicide, suffering from a knee “injury” and suffering from a self-worth of zero. By all accounts I shouldn’t be the runner than I am today.

Am I that much better than everyone else?

Did I have it easier?

Am I some superhuman, talented endurance runner that just never knew I had ultra’s in me?
No, No, and no.

I’m nobody.

I’m nothing more, or less, than anyone reading this right now.

You are everything you want to be.

Think about it.

I know I’m going to get a bunch of emails about how I’m steering people into injury by pushing them, how I’m somehow different than everyone else on the planet and therefore have an easier time of life, or how I just don’t understand how people need to be coddled and comforted into stasis.

The only part of that view is that I surely don’t understand why we fight so hard to remain broken, unhappy, comfortable or static.

I did it. I did it for years.

I hate that part of my life history.

I am definitely not proud of my propensity to seek comfort and throw improvement to the wayside so quickly….but I changed that.

I changed that the moment I promised my son I’d never quit.

I decided to be different.

Save your “it isn’t that easy” response. Save that energy spent on listing the reasons it can’t be that simple.

Use that energy to affect change.

Use that energy to make a choice.

A decision.

In life, you are everything you want to be.

Happy with yourself?

Perfect!

Unhappy?

Change.

Decide to be better, or different, or something else.

Decide to work hard.

Decide to dream….dream big….and chase that dream.

Decide to not quit.

Decide, because I assure you that the opposite of the choices above, are choices as well.

Everything we do in life is a choice.

We choose our actions and reactions.

We choose our paths.

How does this relate to running?

Train however you want to, and do so with full understanding that there will be speed bumps and roadblocks along the way and you will have to decide how to deal with that.

Live knowing that you can’t control everything, but you can control how you react.

Run as hard, or as easy, as you want to….but know that it sits squarely on your shoulders.

Train, don’t train, push hard, relax….whatever your approach, know that it is YOUR choice.

In life you are everything you want to be.

As for me, the last two years have been the hardest of my life. My training has caused great strain on relationships, my marriage and my family. My training has been relentlessly exhausting, and unimaginably rewarding. My running has transformed me from a sedentary, overweight, depressed person into a driven, relentless, endurance athlete.

When I started running, I simply wanted to be a runner.

I got what I wanted and so much more.

What I got was blood, sweat and tears that have continually been shed in the pursuit of a better me.

What I got was a better perspective.

What I got was more than I thought I could handle, and a better idea of what I’m capable of, and let me tell you; I’m scary capable.

I’m not going to lie and say my depression has vanished, my life is perfect, and everything is rainbows and kittens, because that’s not what I got, nor what I wanted.

But I am going to tell you that every, single day I get what I train for.

In life, you are everything you want to be.

So ask yourself…what do you want to be, and how far are you willing to go to get it?

As I wind down from some military stuff I’ve been doing lately, I have been taking some time to reflect on my interactions with the various soldiers I work with, and for. Unfortunately, an increasing problem in the military is a trend of PT failure, or the failing of the Army Physical Fitness Test (APFU). As I spoke to various soldiers of different ranks and career backgrounds, a common thread surfaced among the soldiers struggling. Nearly all of the soldiers that struggle with exercise and weight control noted that they struggled because they simply won’t put in the work without constant support and oversight. As I spoke with these soldiers, discontent for the military was easily detectible. It was as if they were blaming the military for not making them do what they had agreed to do the day they volunteered to serve.

You may sense a bit of insensitivity toward this mindset, as I have been a soldier for a long time, and sacrifice much in order to ensure that I not only meet, but also exceed the standard. It’s my job. It’s what I signed up to do, and in my mind my country depends on me to be that person. Given my background in the military, this mindset and approach have permeated every part of my life. Simply put, there is no excuse for not getting the job done.  Ever.

This brings me to my perspective on something that many people contact me about, and that is how to persevere in a running career with, or without support. The short answer, to save time for those of you short on time, is that if you want something, anything, you must decide that regardless of support, you are going to tackle that goal with every ounce of your being. Every last drop of who you are. The long answer, for those of you looking to waste a few minutes on reading the perspective of this runner/soldier, is that while it may hurt your feelings to have no support system, feeling aren’t necessary to dream big, and snatch that dream from the stars. Now, this isn’t to diminish the importance of feelings, or say that they are not important on our quest to fulfill our dreams, because they are. Feelings are a large part of what make us, us.

So let talk support. No not sports bras and compression shorts, I’m talking about family and friends standing at the finish line, cheering you on while you achieve your dream.

Or not.

I’m talking about your spouse understanding why you “need” that run today.

Or not.

I’m talking about a pat on the back, an attaboy, a congratulations, a high five.

Or not.

Is support really that important? Can we thrive without it? Can we really fully achieve our potential without support?

Let me tell you a little bit about myself, with brutal honesty and transparency.

I was raised in a home where I never felt like I good enough. Good enough for whom, I’m not sure, but I do know that I’ve never felt good enough. I don’t today. I don’t feel like I deserve anything good. Ever. Growing up, I always felt eclipsed by those around me, and I always longed for a time that I was “the man,” a time when I was the best, a time when I stood alone as the winner. I never felt that I accomplished this, and often felt that I couldn’t. I so desperately wanted to feel supported. Cheered. Encouraged. Now, is this to say that I was never encouraged, cheered or supported? No, in fact I’m sure that I was given my fair share of compliments, and still am, but I don’t hear them. Regardless of who tells me, or what they are telling me, I won’t hear the good. As a result, I perpetually feel unsupported. This feeling fuels my need to push well beyond what some would consider “normal” and be happy with my current position. This is in running, and everything else in life. I cannot rest unless I’m killing myself, trying to improve. Many people marvel at my drive, but those close to me realize the torment I go through, all of which is self-directed and self-manifested, in order to constantly be “better.”

So, I ask you, the reader, are you supported? If so, smile. Be happy. Be thankful, and thank your support network. Support can be vital to the success of many. Support benefits and enhances. Support is pretty awesome to have.

If you answered “no” to feeling supported, allow me to let you in on some things that help me in my perpetual feeling of being alone, lonely and unsupported.

This list is in no certain order. Keep in mind I’m tired, sitting on an airport floor surrounded by teenagers, and refuse to proofread my ramblings.

1.     Support is as support does. Many know that I struggle with my own introverted nature, and thus social media isn’t a friend of mine; however, there can be many forms of support found online and “virtually.” The RunJunkEes Run Club is a group of over ten thousand members, all collectively looking to support each other, and be supported. There are many outlets to find a support network, and if it’s important to you, you’ll find it.

2.     You’re probably more supported than you think. As I stated above, I’m sure the people in my life say and do supportive things that I either foolishly overlook, or fail to recognize due to my own presuppositions. Stop and take inventory. You may find that the people in your life are, in fact, supporting you in a way that they know how. If they aren’t runners, take the time to teach them what you need. Every good ultra runner has a crew, and pacers. Develop your life crew and pacers. Teach them, coach them, lean on them and thank them. They’re there; you just need to find them.

3.     Feeling unsupported is uncomfortable, and that’s not always bad. Comfort breeds stagnation, something I’m not a fan of at all. Discomfort often forces movement, change and as a result growth. It’s ok to be a little uncomfortable; in fact, it’s ok to be a lot uncomfortable. Would having a huge cheering section be great? Sure. Is it necessary? No. This leads me to my next, and most abstract, item on the list.

4.     Running is the most honest and pure thing you’ll ever do. Follow me on this one. Running, for the most part, is a solo sport tackled by single runners chasing their own dreams within a collective group of athletes. We are all using the same means to chase different ends. Running is pure, honest and challenging. One of the things I love about running is that the failures are all mine. So are the successes, but it’s in the failures that I learn, and those failures are all mine. No excuses. No blame. My running is between me and my fears, doubts and insecurities. No referees to miss a call. No team members to miss the winning goal. When I finish a run, everything that occurred on that run was mine. Everything. I can try to blame the weather, or the course, or my shoes, or anything else; but in all reality, I own all of it. If my ability, environment or equipment hampered my performance, ultimately it’s on me. And I love that. I love that I hold my own success in my hands. I find that when I begin to place support above my own planning and performance, I begin to construct an excuse network. Whether I have support or not, I never want to forget the most important aspect of my running; that is, that it’s all up to me.

5.     Supported or unsupported, I must finish my mission. I can’t count how many times I had something planned, some run or race planned, and someone or something let me down. I recently ran a 5K without any family present because it really wasn’t that big of a deal to them. That sucked. I placed 3rd in my age group. Did it sting? Yes. Did it stop my mission? NEVER. Despite my many attempts to rally a crew for an upcoming 360-mile ultra, I had to stop and realize that it wasn’t going to happen. Is it intimidating to think about running 360 miles solo, and unsupported? Yes. Will it stop me from finishing and giving it everything I’ve got? No. Never. NEVER. I cannot be stopped. I will not be defeated. Maybe this is the SPECOPS in me, or maybe it is simply the fact that I am at a point in my life that I realize how little time I truly have to chase my dreams; regardless, I put mission first, all else second. I’m not talking about abandoning my responsibilities as a father for a run, but I am acknowledging that if I want it bad enough I may have to sacrifice a little sleep, some food, my own free time or some energy. In life, you get everything you train for. Train for nothing, and you reap nothing. Train as you fight, and you will be ready for the fight.  So, ask yourself, how important is this dream of yours?



I can tell you this with all of the certainty I can muster. You are capable of anything you believe you can do, supported or unsupported. You can achieve every single dream you set for yourself, by yourself. When you make the decision that your dream is as important as air. As important as water. As important as food. As important as sleep….then, and only then will you be able set down any perceived need and charge forward with complete and utter drive, regardless of who stands with you, or against you. In battle, we are often faced with insurmountable tasks that no man or woman should face, and yet we come out victorious time and again. In running we are perpetually pursued by our own doubts and insecurities, and yet we cross the finish line over and over. In life we are often handed circumstances that feel completely impossible, and yet we navigate those times time and again and come out for the better on the flip side.

If you take nothing else from this post, please understand this.

We are given one life.

One, short life.

Within this life we are given choices, and at some point we will stand at a cross roads with a clear and definitive decision to make. That decision will forever change your journey from that point on.

That cross roads will approach you daily.

Every day you have a choice to make.

You can be the same as yesterday, or be better.

You can dream scary big dreams and chase them with all of your being, or accept life as it comes.

You can wait to see what happens, or you can make life happen.

Supported or unsupported, this is your life.

Your run.

Your race.

YOURS.

If you have a great support network, be thankful and make them proud.

If you have no support, make them take notice.

They don’t have to support you, but you can make damn sure they can’t ignore you.

Be the best you.

Every.

Damn.

Day.