Operation TWO-ZERO Recap: Winning the Mental Battle One Step at a Time

20 miles. 5,300 feet of elevation gain. Nearly 32 pounds on my back—20 pounds dry, plus 4.5 liters of water and food. And temperatures that pushed into the triple digits.

This was Operation TWO-ZERO, a mountain ruck race by Green Beret Fitness. But this post isn’t about the weight or the miles. It’s about the mental war I fought—and won—when it would’ve been easier to back off.

Yes, I finished first overall. Yes, I earned my GBF tags by just three minutes. But the deeper win came in the moments no one saw—when I stayed in it mentally, when the old voices showed up and I chose differently.

The Climb Begins

The first climb was long—8.4 miles of elevation that slowly turned up the pressure. Laura and I moved together early on, pushing pace on every flat section to bank time. We both knew the real challenge was still ahead.

Then came the final mile of that climb—1,125 feet of vertical gain in just one mile. It didn’t break me, but it wanted to. The voices started there: “Ease off. Save yourself.” I heard them, but I didn’t listen.

I crested into a ridgeline view that offered a moment of peace. Then crossed a quiet, old erosion terrace. There was no fanfare—just me, the weight, and the climb behind me. The internal conversation had started—and I knew it wouldn’t end soon.

Dropping Into the Wild

The descent opened up, but the trail wasn’t easy. Overgrown. Untouched. It felt like walking through a dream—green brush swaying in the wind, barely revealing the path ahead. Beautiful, but disorienting.

This is where the real work began. The air was thick. The heat was rising. The mental fog started creeping in—one of those stretches where it’s just you and the sound of your own breathing.

I missed the trail entrance after a brief road section. The voice in my head said, “There it is, you’re slipping.” But again—I didn’t panic. I doubled back, found the overgrown turn, and kept going. Quiet confidence is learned the hard way.

Heat and Headspace

At mile 14, I ran out of water. I refilled at 14.5 with two liters and hoped it would be enough. It wasn’t.

The heat had now hit triple digits. There was no hiding from it. The sun pressed down. The trail pressed in. I found a mud puddle off trail and soaked my hat and cooling towel. It wasn’t ideal, but it was survival.

Every step after that became about choice. I could slow down. I could justify easing off. No one would’ve blamed me. But that’s the old habit. That’s the voice that settles.

I knew where I was on the clock. I knew I was behind my goal. But I also knew the only thing worse than being late was knowing I gave in when I didn’t have to.

Fighting Through It

This is where the internal battle peaked. Legs were heavy. Mouth dry. Shade became gold. I broke the final stretch into small pieces—one patch of shade at a time. I moved. Recovered. Moved again.

Every event like this is really a conversation. A long one. You talk to yourself more than anyone else. You make decisions that define who you are—not just in the race, but in everything else you do after it.

In the past, I’ve let up in these moments. Convinced myself that “close enough” was fine. Not this time.

This time, I was fully present. Focused. Honest with myself. I’d trained for this—not just physically, but mentally. I’ve learned how to stay calm when it’s loud inside. How to move through pain without reacting to it.

The Final Stretch

The course ended on the paved trail leading to Bridal Veil Falls. Uphill. Of course.

Even then, the voices didn’t stop. “You’ve done enough.” “Walk it in.” But I had one more move to make. I stopped once more to soak my towel, ignored the waterfall completely, and kept working.

Then I saw it—the finish. I came in quicker than expected. Gregg was in his truck, AC blasting, caught off guard.

He stepped out, smiled, and said, “You got your tags—with three minutes to spare. And you finished first.”

The Real Win

I didn’t celebrate. I sat in the river. Took in water. Let the moment settle.

First place felt good—but it wasn’t the win I was chasing. I’d beaten the voice. The one that used to pull me back. The one that tried to show up again on that mountain. And this time, I didn’t listen.

This was the most mentally sound I’ve ever been in a race. I made decisions under pressure that I can be proud of. I didn’t let fatigue choose for me. I chose for myself—every time.

This One Was for Them

Cannon and Steele—my kids. This one was for them. I want them to know what it looks like to stay in it when it gets hard. To keep showing up when it would be easier not to. To silence the noise and trust the work.

Green Beret Fitness creates space for that. No hype. No shortcuts. Just a clean slate and a hard course. Everything else is up to you.

I finished first. But more than that—I finished with integrity. With intention. And with nothing left on the table.