School wasn't my strong suit. Back then, it all felt pointless, learning things that I'd never use for exams I didn't care about. At 17, I picked up my report card, flipped it open, and felt the blood drain from my face. I was that close to repeating the year. My academics had peaked at age seven and been in free fall ever since.

By sheer luck that same week, I stumbled across Living with a SEAL, the book that introduced me to David Goggins. At the time, he was relatively unknown. I hadn't touched a book in years, but I devoured this one. His story resonated deeply with me.

Not having a father meant I'd never really had a role model. The combination of that void, the shock from my grades, and Goggins' story broke something in me. I don't remember the exact moment, but I snapped.

"Why can't that be me?"

Like Goggins, I hated running. Like Goggins, I started running.

Zero to Almost Hero

I went from couch potato to running for hours every day. No excuses. I ran to school, during school, and more after school. I raced the school bus daily in my uniform while my schoolmates stared out the window, probably wondering what the hell I was doing.

A friend told me his friends thought I was weird. I remember Goggins saying you'll never meet a hater doing better than you. So screw them.

Every morning started at 5 a.m. with the same Goggins video before I went running. Rain or shine, I was out there. Some days when it was raining, I would just stare at the window because I didn't want to be out there. My legs felt like two bricks. Whenever my muscles or joints ached I would just push past it and tell myself to not be a bitch, and the pain would soon go numb. Once I ran so hard I passed out in class. My classmates probably just assumed I was napping (I often was).

I remember wondering how much I'd have to train to ever reach Goggins' level. In one interview, he said that he trained so that when the time came for his mom to pass away, he wouldn't be affected by it. As insane as that sounds, that's exactly why it stuck with me. It sounded insane to me too. But by then, I was a believer, and whatever he said was scripture. I knew I wasn't anywhere close to that point yet, but the path was clear: More running. More suffering.

This became the turning point in my life, where I excelled academically too, as any time not running was spent studying. Eventually, my body couldn't keep up. I was taking painkillers just to sleep. My legs ached constantly, and at one point I couldn't walk properly. I decided to visit a hospital, hoping for a quick tape-up fix so I could keep running (this seems dumb but Goggins did it, so I thought it was legit). Instead, the MRI showed stress fractures across both shins. The doctor warned that they would literally snap if I kept going. So I stopped reluctantly.

Years Later, Marathon

Fast-forward to age 24. Running found me again.

I'd always wanted to do a marathon, but I saw the SF Marathon was three weeks away. So like any rational human being, I signed up on the spot starting from zero again. Part of me just wanted to see if I still had it.

One evening, I drove to my training spot at Stanford's track for a run. Halfway there, the skies opened up and it started pouring. I considered turning back but kept going, hoping maybe the weather would calm down. When I parked and opened the car door, a blast of cold wind and rain hit me in the face.

My first thought: This is going to suck, maybe I should come back tomorrow.

My second thought: DON'T BE A BITCH.

I ran for hours as the rain got heavier, the track turning into pools of water. When I got home soaked and shivering, my roommate thought I was going to die. I immediately went to the shower and peeled off my shirt, noticing there was blood across my collarbone. The wet cotton had rubbed my skin raw without me even realizing, as my body was numb from the cold.

Three weeks later,

STAY HARD

What Running Taught Me

I'm nowhere near Goggins' level, but adopting even a fraction of his mindset changed me. I sometimes look back at 17 year old me and wonder how the hell I did that.

This was the first time I'd ever been truly obsessed. It gave me a blueprint for what hard actually feels like. No excuses, no quit. Every time I wanted to stop, felt pain, or thought something was impossible, it was all broken down.

This can’t really be felt or taught either. Sure I could try and read more about it, but if I didn’t go out there and actually run, there’s only so much to be gained. It’s like I was discovering parts of me that I didn’t know existed, and I’m learning it in real time while suffering.

Running still sucks for me. It always has. But it taught me to push past the point where most people quit. It taught me to seek discomfort and pain. Now, whenever something feels too difficult, I think back to those runs—5 a.m. starts, racing the school bus, running until I passed out, running in the rain with blood on my chest.

Suddenly, nothing feels impossible.