A LEGENDARY ADVENTURE RACE OF 100 MILES

It is 1:30 a.m. I’m alone. Stumbling through a maze in a sugarcane field in Port Allen, Louisiana. My headlamp is growing dimmer each step I take. I’m wondering if it will die or not. My legs are weary. My toes are busted, blistered, and torn. I’m certain I’ve lost a few toenails, but I don’t have the energy to even check. The pain in my feet is dwarfed by fatigue in my quads and knees. After 97+ miles of running in the past 19 hours, my body has had enough. Dehydration, hunger, and lack of energy. My inner thighs feel like they have been at war with a cheese grater. I’m delirious. Seeing and hearing things. Wondering if they are real or not. The wind lightly blows and the rustling of the sugar cane stalks is eerie. I feel like I’m being watched. It just feels like a horror movie. The moon is almost full. I don’t want to keep going. It hurts too badly. Why am I doing this?

Rewind about 20 hours. We are gathered near the starting line under two live oak trees in the middle of a sugar cane field. It’s still dark, about 5 am. It’s a nice and cool autumn morning. There’s a special energy in the air as the crowd huddles to listen to the race director, Walker Higgins, go over the guidelines before the race. This isn’t just any crowd of people. It’s a wild band of misfits. Tortured souls amused by the thought of self-punishment while ceiling searching and limit seeking. Not your typical crowd. Men and women from all walks of life that gather together every now and then to expand their boundaries, test their mental fortitude, and endure hell. Willingly.

3-2-1. Go.

I feel free again. I’ve waited for this moment for about 100 days. The enormous amount of pressure of this task has consumed my life. Every single day I thought about this race. The majority of my life decisions were made around this event. I’ve been training 6-7 days a week, sometimes multiple times a day just for this race. Now the weight has been lifted. I can do the fun part. Just run.

There were many reasons I chose this challenge. It would require a radical transformation as man. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Any daunting challenge will require a payment of equal value. I knew this going into it. It was obvious from the start, but every challenge is an opportunity to rise to the occasion.

Everything about this race was so beautiful and raw. The sound of the footsteps as a wild band of runners gallop through the creepy sugar cane fields at dawn. Watching the sun rise about an hour later. The long stretches through wooded areas along creeks and trees. A technical traverse along the Mississippi River. All types of terrain. Hard dirt. Soft dirt. Tilled ground. Mud. Grass. Beaten trails. Water. Briars. Miles and miles on a jagged railroad track. Gnarly to say the least.

As the day progressed a new foe showed his face. The sun. I thought I was prepared for this hostile adversary. I was wrong.

I knew one of the toughest stretches of the race would be from 11 a.m. until about 6 p.m. That’s when the sun would stand its ground and shine the hardest. It was 90 degrees with little-to-no shade and the sun beating down relentlessly. That can take a severe toll on the body. There are so many hidden dangers such as muscle cramps, dehydration, heat exhaustion, and even heat stroke.

I’m blessed beyond measure. I have an outstanding team and crew. Not just any crew. A group of loved ones that help me during these events. Such a selfless group of individuals that take the time to care for me during these struggles. They go out of their way to help me. Let me tell you about the crew.

First, we have the crew captain, Hannah. She’s my wife, biggest supporter, and best friend. She’s a boss mom and an over planner (one of the many qualities I deeply admire). You could find her along the course at any given time carrying her clipboard making sure I was getting enough calories per hour and staying hydrated. Next is my brother, Azod, and his wife, Joy. They always come to my big races to cheer me on. I love that so much. We always eat pizza the night before. It’s very comforting to have that support and strength from family. They helped with anything and everything during the race.

Next is the Z-Man, Zach Vogt. One of the toughest competitors I know. He was the one that got me started in these longer distances. Just talking about running and learning from him took me to new levels. He ran the 50K and smashed it.

Then we have Coach Joshua Aaron Moore. He’s my running coach and dear friend. He promised me he would pace me for 20 miles. Well, he only got 2-3 hours of sleep the night before and was nursing a bad ankle. I would understand if he couldn’t go the distance. Listen, this guy is a certified badass. At mile 50, he looks at me and says, “Hey, Walker told me I can start pacing you at mile 62.”

What does that mean? Yes, he just agreed to run 35+ miles with me. Let’s take into account he has not trained for this kind of distance at all. He has only run over 20 miles once in his life. That was when we ran the 50 miler together. That’s just insane. I told him that I won’t ask him to do it, but if he volunteers I will gladly accept the company. He just smiles.

To achieve tremendous, enormous, and lofty goals you need a strong team. The stronger the team the better your odds.

Back to the race. I’ll be honest. A lot of it was a blur. I spent the better part of the day chasing first place. Josh Chauvin was ahead most of the time. You know, it’s always a pleasure facing really tough competition. As a true competitor, it always brings out the best in yourself. A fierce battle will force you to climb to higher levels, dig deeper than ever before, and push yourself beyond what you thought was possible. He did all that and more. I have to admit. The guy is relentless.

I finally caught up to him around mile 60 before we headed back out on the railroad tracks. This was uncharted territory for me. I have never run more than 50 miles. My legs were so heavy. The sun was so hot. I was so thirsty. Hunger pains were turning over my stomach but I couldn’t tolerate food. I could see he was in as much pain as I was but neither one of us wanted to show it. As we crossed paths, there was a woman on the railroad track that needed help crossing. She was in pain as well. It was truly beautiful moment when both of us paused our race to help her along the way. It was spontaneous. True sportsmanship.

We ended up finishing the 100K checkpoint (mile 62) at the same time. Both of us extremely fatigued. Sitting in the aid station eating, drinking, and just resting a few precious moments before heading back out to fight like warriors in the unforgiving elements.

From there I just tried to keep moving and never look back. Coach Josh joined me then and tried to keep my mind off the pain. Just keep moving. Just one step at a time. Coach is a savage dude. He doesn’t allow you to take breaks. He never let up on me.

From mile 72 to 82 we ran across the top of a levee overlooking the Mississippi River. It was dark. There was a lonely path made of gravel. The harsh terrain was terrible on my feet. I was in absolute agony, but Coach tried to distract me with stories about the history of the Mississippi River and the Civil War. It helped, but I knew I pushed it too hard. I starting to crumble. My body desperately needed relief.

There’s a huge mistake you can make when running. As with anything in life, when you focus on something it magnifies exponentially. I started counting miles. Counting minutes. This was a huge mistake. They started to seem so long. A single mile felt like an eternity. I can vaguely remember the last mile before the aid station at 82. There was a herd of cattle along our path and they just stood there in the dark looking at us. Not exactly knowing what to do we stopped for just a moment. I loved every second of the rest. Coach roared at them to make them move. Looking back at it, that was a very humorous moment of the race. From then to the aid station, it took what seemed like forever. My body was almost finished.

Finally, we got to the aid station. I was in dire need of rest. The team did what they do best and went to work filling my water bottle and helping out. Not 15 seconds after sitting down I see Josh Chauvin coming down the levee to the aid station. Wow. He made up a lot of ground in a short period of time. He looked fresh too. He was very quickly in and out of the aid station. I look at Coach and he just says… “Let’s go.”

No questions asked. We are on our feet. Back at it. There are only 18 miles left.

The rest of the race was… Epic. Legendary. Monumental. Tremendous. Life-Changing.

We head out two miles toward a smoke stack. Inside the candle-lit smoke stack is a book, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho (by the way this is one of my favorite books of all-time and I recommend you read it: http://amzn.to/2yE2j1j). You have to sign the book and head back out. I quickly write my name and we leave. I regret not writing a special note or something else of value. There were signatures and notes in there from very few previous 100 mile racers of the past. It was truly special.

The Alchemist is such a magical story filled with wonder, adventure, and self-discovery. The story is about the quest of a lowly shepherd boy who is seeking treasure and travel. His quest leads him to riches beyond his wildest dreams, but not in the way you might think. He learns to recognize the wisdom of his intuition and heart, how to see hidden opportunity in struggles, and learn to spot life’s omens along the way. Last but not least, it’s about following YOUR dreams. It was the essence of this race I was running. Such a captivating moment I will never forget.

So we head back out. Ten more miles on the levee. I wanted so bad to walk. Coach wouldn’t allow it. Run. Keep going. We pushed it hard. Never once did we stop. Never in my life have I endured a tougher challenge. We just kept running. No stopping. As we approached the end of the levee where we turn back into the cane field, we spotted some other runners and asked how far ahead the leader was. They said about half a mile. They also said he was walking. Well… We picked it up even more. RUN! RUN! KEEP MOVING!

As we finally roll into the aid station at mile 92. He’s heading back out. No stop. Fill the bottles and go. After 10 miles of pushing the pace on the levee way past what I could endure, my body rebelled. We head out into the night and get about a mile into the final 8 miles. I pumped my arms in the running motion, but my legs will not go. I’m wobbling. Struggling to even stand. Coach holds me up. We walk. I try again with everything I have. Step forward. I try to swing my arms to run, but my legs will not respond. I am wobbling side to side and feel like I am about to collapse.

At this point I’m so frustrated. I feel like I’ve let everyone down. Why now? I’d much rather this happen 50 miles ago and drop out of the race then to get so close to winning and my body fail me.

We continue. Coach rolls his ankle pretty hard. He is equally as exhausted as me. He wasn’t trained for 35+ miles but he went the distance. Now his ankle is destroyed and he needs to call it quits. I am ok with this. I tell him I will finish the last few miles and see him at the finish line.

That brings us back to the very beginning of this story. I’m wobbling through the maze in the sugar cane field. My body is far past all limits and barriers I have previously known. I have exceeded all pain tolerances I’ve ever known. I’m sick to my stomach. I honestly want to lay in the middle of this dark field and sleep for a little bit.

I have about 2-3 miles left. I strongly consider quitting, but it’s not really feasible. I’d have to call someone to come get me. I don’t have a phone. I could wait for them to find me. Yes, I could do that, but how long would it take? Can I still walk? Yes. Keep walking. Just keep moving. If I’m walking at about a 30 minute per mile pace, I can be finished in an hour and a half. Wow, that’s an eternity. I’m out of water. My mouth is dry. I’m sunburned. My knees are on fire. My feet are throbbing. Why am I doing this?

Then I start thinking about the WHYs. You see, I learned a while back from a mentor that one of the strongest and most effective parts of goal setting is to create a big enough WHY. If your WHY is big enough you can achieve any goal.

I started thinking about my team. They put in so much time and effort to help and support me. I can’t let them down. I thought about my kids. What a great opportunity to be an inspiration and great influence to them to persevere through struggle and use this in the future as a learning tool to inspire them. Then I thought about baby Theo and the Nathan Prive family. All this pain I was enduring was just a drop in the bucket compared to what they are going through. Man… that gave me chills.

Stop. Reassess the situation. Calm your mind. What’s going on? How can I deal with one thing at a time? I thought about what kind of person would it take to finish? You’d have to be determined, focused, self-reliant, relentless, comfortable with the uncomfortable, gritty, and a beast. Could I muster up enough courage to push for another 45 minutes of running?

There’s an affirmation I created that taped on my mirror in my office. Each morning I read it aloud. Perhaps I’m trying to brainwash myself or just change my beliefs about life. I don’t know. When I first started reciting it months ago, I had resistance. It felt weird saying these super optimistic things about myself because they weren’t really true.

Here is an excerpt from it:

"I am unshakeable, unbreakable, unstoppable, and unconquerable. I will succeed. I will confidently push harder, further, longer, stronger, and smarter than the day before. I know each decision affects the grand scheme of my life, and today I choose excellence for myself and my family."

I just started reciting it. Over and over. I slowly started moving faster. And a little faster. And a little faster. I was slowly running again. I was moving forward!

I come around a corner and see lights. I know I’m so close. I hear a familiar voice. It’s Hannah and Azod. I’m so relieved. They are there to finish this journey with me. It was so special. Hannah ran the last quarter of a mile with me. Words just can’t explain it. It was a beautiful moment I will always cherish.

The rest was history. Second place. I finished in 20 hours and 39 minutes.

I really believe you can have almost anything in life if you are willing to give up the belief you can’t have it.

We listen and believe others when they tell us what we can or can’t do things. If you accept a limiting belief, it will come true for you. On the other side of that coin, you can also do anything you set your mind to if you believe you can, be relentless, and take massive action.

Next time you set a goal, I dare you to multiply it by 10 times. Just go big. So what if you fail. We get so worried about what other’s think, we sometimes don’t even live the lives we want. You will never really know what you are capable of until you try. Be fearless of failure. Failure is only a tool of learning. True failure is quitting or not even trying.

An old friend once told to shoot for the moon, and even if you miss… you’ll land in the stars.

Here are a few fun facts about the race:

Total distance: 100 miles
Total calories burned: 12,990
Total steps taken: Approximately 196,000
Liquid intake: Easily over 5 gallons (stopped counting)
Toenails lost: Looks like it will be 6 😜

Would I do it again? HELL YES!