I used to think compartmentalizing challenges was the way forward. Box it up, shove it on the shelf, and keep moving. In some ways, it worked—at least in the short term. But after my A-race this year didn’t go to plan, I realized that sealing away hard moments also means sealing away the lessons.

Barkley Fall Classic: A Mental Turning Point

I expected the Barkley Fall Classic (BFC) to deliver something completely different. I thought I would be pushed to my physical limits in ways I’d never experienced before. But the day didn’t have the same plan in mind for me.

“Every race will have an unexpected challenge. It’s how you face that challenge and push through that will make or break your race.”— Advice from my triathlon coach, 20+ years ago

At BFC, the unexpected challenge was sickness. My body couldn’t match the promises I had made to myself, and that cut deeper than the climbs. This was the second race where I promised myself not to let me down. The first was Operation TWO-ZERO, where I delivered and won. The second was BFC, where I didn’t finish.

The emotional energy that needed to be released was the feeling that I let myself down that day. But when I look back honestly, I see the opposite. I proved I could keep moving forward in one of the most challenging situations I’ve ever faced. Maybe that’s the way the story needed to be written. Maybe the DNF was just as essential to the path I’ve put myself on as the finish at TWO-ZERO.

BFC showed me that emotional energy needs to be released—whether it’s with a win, a loss, a failure, or a day that ends in something completely out of your control. Holding it in only adds weight. Letting it out makes room for growth.

It lingered, it pressed, and in the end, it forced me to face a truth: challenges are not meant to be buried. They are meant to be carried forward.

Rucking Teaches the Same Lesson

When you shoulder a ruck, the weight never really disappears. You can ignore it for a while, but sooner or later it makes itself known. The trick isn’t to pretend the weight isn’t there—the trick is learning to carry it well.

That’s how I’m starting to see setbacks. It’s not about compartmentalizing or forgetting. It’s about remaining open—aware of what went wrong and what it can teach me. At the same time, it doesn’t mean I have to stay stuck in the mud of that failure. I can carry the lesson forward without letting it drag me down.

Looking Ahead: Backyard Ultra and Operation OCALI

That’s the gift of these endurance events: they force growth. Each one chisels away at who I thought I was and shapes me into who I’m becoming. The Barkley Fall Classic cracked open my mindset, and now I’m looking forward to the next lessons waiting on the horizon.

First is a Backyard Ultra, where every loop will test my patience and mental discipline. It’s a format where the mind gives up long before the body, and my job is to prove that the lessons I’ve carried forward can keep me in the fight, loop after loop.

After that comes something entirely different but no less demanding: Operation OCALI, a 67-mile ruck through the Santa Monica Mountains with weight on my back and a friend at my side. That’s not just mileage—it’s endless hours under load, navigation across rugged terrain, and the kind of shared suffering that forges bonds as strong as steel. OCALI won’t just test the body; it will remind me of the power of partnership, of carrying weight not just for myself but alongside someone I trust.

Two completely different events, yet both essential in shaping me into a better person.

Already Winning

I recently watched a clip from a Backyard Ultra documentary that a friend shared with me. A man was ready to quit—broken down, exhausted, convinced he was done. His wife was running beside him. She didn’t push him, didn’t demand more from him. Instead, she simply told him he had already won.

That moment stuck with me. Because if we are out there rucking, we are already winning. Regardless of weight, distance, or time—we are winning. Every step under load is a victory. Every mile teaches us something. Every challenge adds to who we are becoming.

How It All Started: My First Ruck

All of this traces back to that first ruck. I didn’t know it then, but shouldering weight and stepping out the door would set me on a path that has given me more than I could ever ask for. Rucking has taught me lessons about resilience, opened doors I never knew existed, and forged friendships that only come through shared struggle and grit.

And deep down, I probably know it was never about winning a race. It has always been about improving myself, helping others, and showing what’s possible. Maybe even giving someone else a little bit of hope.

That first step under weight started the process of changing me. Every mile since has been a reminder that the challenges we carry don’t hold us back—they shape us.

Looking ahead, the rest of 2025 will keep testing me through the Backyard Ultra and Operation OCALI. But I know 2026 will elevate the challenges even higher. I have an incredible thirst to keep learning, to keep growing, and to keep figuring out who I am—not to anyone else, but to myself. That’s the real finish line.

FORGED IN FAILURE. FUELED BY GRIT.