I've always been fascinated by people who can overcome adversity with the power of their mind, monks who set themselves on fire, Indian mystics who lie on beds of nails, even stoic philosophers like Marcus Aurelius, who slept on the floor to remind himself of the privilege of a bed.
When I got out of the military, I carried a lingering sense that something was missing. A friend once told me, “People like you tend to show up at races like these.” They meant that, for some of us, adversity reveals something essential, something alive.
Years later, if you wanted to look at it scientifically, you'd find that this kind of challenge taps into neuroplasticity, the mind’s ability to adapt under pressure. It’s not easy to train for everyday stress, but these moments offer a way in.
In that sense, I relate to those monks. I find meaning in testing my mental limits, not for the sake of suffering, but to train the mind to meet hardship with poise and grace.
2. Who are you inspired by?
Eric Johnson is a constant source of inspiration, coach, mentor, and friend. I met him during my very first race, and since then, he’s become a legend in my eyes. He’s nearing his 100th 100-mile race, holds the record for the most Bear 100 finishes, and has even taken on the brutal ITI 1000. And he’s done all of this while battling and beating cancer. If you’re looking for a true local legend, look no further. Eric is the real deal.
What I listened to when I first started is pretty much the same as what I listen to now, House Work on Spotify. The main thing I’ve added over time is audiobooks, which have become a big source of inspiration. I especially love listening to Stoic philosophy or books that challenge the mind, since mental battles are a huge part of these races. The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck* is one of my favorites to have in my ears out on the trail.
4. Do you have a specific running playlist?
What many people might not realize about sound in ultrarunning can probably be summed up in two key ideas.
The first is a little easier to grasp: in some of the top races, music and headphones are actually banned. While part of this is about safety, being aware of your surroundings, there’s another reason that cuts deeper. Music, for many of us, becomes a kind of drug. It helps us access specific emotions to get through hard moments. We’ve all felt this, whether it’s the song that lifts you after a promotion, or the one that gets you through heartbreak. It’s powerful, not because it’s a substance, but because of how deeply it affects the mind.
The second idea is more nuanced and rooted in the psychology of long-distance trail running. When you’re out there for hours, even days, without sleep, your perception begins to shift. In sound theory, there’s a concept called the “acousmatic”, sound heard without seeing its source. On the trail, this can be anything: footsteps behind you, a rock tumbling nearby, or even the rattle of a loose can in someone’s pack. These sounds usually have logical explanations, like another runner catching up. But as night falls, fatigue sets in, and your senses narrow to just what your headlamp reveals, those sounds can take on new meaning.
Your mind starts to fill in the blanks. A rustle in the bushes becomes an animal. A falling rock might feel like a threat. You begin to hallucinate, not just visually but sonically, your brain invents stories to explain what it hears. That’s how powerful sound becomes out there. When vision is limited, sound takes over. And in those moments, it can shape your entire psychological experience of the race.
One of my main goals this year is to take on more graduate-level ultras. While I have several races on the calendar, the ones I’m most excited about are the Wyoming 100 and the Bear 100. Looking ahead, I’m also signed up for the Arizona Monster 300 in 2026—an event I’m already gearing up for.