Plastic Plates and Race Buckles

In 2020 when the Leadville 100 along with every other race was canceled due to COVID, I figured my season was over. Then an email arrived introducing a virtual challenge I couldn't ignore. Over the next ten weeks, I set out to gain 100,000 feet of elevation in one of the flattest places in America, Houston, Texas. It sounded impossible. It looked ridiculous. And maybe it was.

There’s one rule in ultra running: Do nothing new on race day. At the Pedernales Falls 60k, I convinced myself that rule didn’t apply to me. One handheld bottle. No vest. Texas heat. A night race that I thought would get easier once the sun went down. Instead, every small decision started stacking up. What began as a simple training run slowly turned into one of the worst physical experiences I’ve ever had on a trail. Throwing up. Severe cramps. Hallucination-like sensations. And the realizat...

I used to think that when I quit drinking for running, everything would change. It would look like growth. I’d become a better, stronger person… taking control of my life. And it would feel like progress. One day I was looking at the finisher medals hanging on my wall, and I remembered another collection of finisher's medals I had chosen to forget. Three plastic, fake gold plates I had hidden in the garage after I quit drinking. I used to think they had nothing to do with each other. And when i realized they had more in common than I had thought, I was left wondering what to do with that. I don’t think this is really about running. Or drinking. It’s something else.

Signing up for the Big Bend 100K, I daydreamed about finishing faster, about racing. For years I battled the voices in my head, perfection, and the habit of settling for just finishing. This time something shifted. This isn’t a story of redemption. It’s a story about what happens when the pieces finally come together — and you let it happen.

What if pain isn’t a warning to stop? What if it’s a doorway? A way of stripping away everything we don’t need, the doubt, the shame, the critic? Until all that’s left is the truth: I can keep going. Even when I think I can’t. Stagecoach 100 was a point-to-point ultra that stripped away everything except the truth I didn’t know I was looking for. It left me with questions I can’t shake: What happens when the pain gets louder than the critic? What’s left of us when ego is gone? I’m still trying to understand what I found out there. Come with me into the dark and the dust to see what remains when everything else falls away.

The messy middle isn’t just pain on the trail. It’s the storm we all try to shortcut. In this episode I dig into the temptation of hacks, pills, and perfection. From chasing sobriety with medication, to chasing races with training plans and calorie cuts, I kept looking for the magic pill that would silence the beast. But shortcuts don’t conquer it. They just make it hungrier. This isn’t a polished success story. It’s relapse, shame, perfectionism, weight obsession, and the ugly parts no one shares out loud. If you’ve ever asked “why isn’t this working?” or wondered if you’re the only one drowning in the middle — this one’s for you.

What we listen to while we run says something. Music can be a painkiller, a punch in the gut, and a time machine all at once. Sometimes it’s noise, and worst of all, a crutch. This episode is made up of songs, stories, and one quiet truth: Music is powerful. How we choose to use it can make all the difference.

Send a text This one’s personal. It’s about the part of the story most people skip—the messy middle. The part between the breakdown and the breakthrough, when everything hurts, your mind’s screaming, and you’re still somehow moving forward, even though the wheels are falling off. This episode started with a facebook comment and unraveled into something bigger. I talk about pain, silence, performative vulnerability, and what happens when people respond to your struggle but don’t really know ho...

Every ultramarathon has a map. But there’s another one we never talk about, the emotional topography. In this episode, share the noise and the quiet moments of my experience at the Canyons 100K: a race along the Western States trail that became less about climbing mountains and more about surviving the terrain inside my own head. What started as a hopeful return to long-distance running turned into a raw, unfiltered confrontation with the voices in my head. This isn’t a story about triumph. It’s about tension—between ego and doubt, pain and pride, quitting and continuing. No music. No sound effects. Just me. And the voices I run with. This episode contains strong language and references to mental health struggles, including suicidal thoughts. Please take care while listening. And remember—you’re not alone.

In this follow-up discussion, we go beyond the story and unpack the deeper lessons. Is quitting really failure, or is it sometimes the strongest choice? What are the warning signs we ignore—on the trail and in life? And what “race” are you still running, not because you love it, but because you don’t know how to stop? Join us as we explore endurance, self-identity, and the moments that force us to rethink everything.

We’re taught that endurance is everything—push harder, suffer through, never quit. But what if endurance isn’t always the answer? What if knowing when to stop is the real strength? In this episode, I reflect on a race I never expected to DNF, the ghost of my past self on the trail, and the fine line between resilience and self-destruction. Whether on the course, in careers, or in relationships, when does perseverance serve us—and when does it trap us? What race are you still running, not because you love it, but because you don’t know how to stop?

Six months after quitting a virtual 50-miler, I set out to run a 50K training run—no race, no medal, no finish line celebration. Just me, the trail, and the question: Can I show up and push myself when no one’s watching? What started as a test of physical endurance became something more—a shift in how I viewed running, purpose, and accountability. This is the story of how a failed race, a not-so-quiet 31 mile run redefined what truly matters.

In ‘The Mountain Will Have Its Way’, I share the raw, unfiltered story of how Leadville and I found each other—a journey that began with a race but grew into so much more. This episode isn’t just about chasing a buckle; it’s about conquering a different kind of mountain: addiction, identity, and the struggle to find a way forward when the trail feels impossible. Adapted from my journals, this is a story of resilience, failure, and relentless progress, both on and off the trail.

I wrote this entry July 19, 2021, revisiting it multiple times over the years, feeling it wasn’t clearly communicating what happened out there that night, and how I felt about it. Five years later, I finally feel I can articulate what happened. I’ve never had another experience like it. Running is my daily ritual, and the trail is my church—a place I control. When race day comes, I strive to leave all my worries at the start line, running with a clear, undistracted mind. But that night, during the Colorado Bend 60k, 2021 something slipped through the gates. A ghost of an unwanted thought I didn’t invite, crept in. As the beam of my headlamp flickered over the trail, I caught glimpses of it lurking in the darkness, waiting to pull me away from the present. And with each step, I let it. I fell many times through the night not from exhaustion, but from something far more dangerous: distraction on a rocky, technical trail. We all have a strained relationship with our egos. Someti…

In 2009 my brother called and asked me if I wanted to run a half marathon with him. What started as an impulsive commitment to my brother quickly became a test of endurance, pain, and willpower. From the exhilarating start fueled by salty ocean air to the agonizing finish, I share the highs and lows of this unforgettable journey. Despite cramps, burning lungs, and a fleeting desire to quit, my brother's unwavering support pushed me to the finish line. Join me as I reflect on the adventure, challenges, and lessons learned from this half marathon experience.

In 2019, recently sober, I signed up for my first 100k distance trail run. I had a history of running a few shorter trail distances and many years of road half marathons. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into until the wheels began to fall off later in the race. Through this audio blog I revisit my journal entries exploring running, sobriety, recovery, failure, success, and self-discovery as a slightly behind the middle of the pack runner.