At midnight on Day 2 of this event, which I thought would be challenging but fun, I looked in the mirror and decided that I'm an idiot. My eyes were bloodshot, my hair disheveled. I was tired of eating peanut butter and jellies. My legs ached. Two blisters throbbed with each step. My knee screamed in pain. I wanted to quit.
But let me back up and explain what got me to this breaking point.
The 4x4x48 Challenge: Running 4 miles every 4 hours for 48 hours straight.
Popularized by former Navy SEAL David Goggins, this endurance event means 12 four-mile runs from Friday noon to Sunday 8 AM with no extended sleep. The clock never stops. When your 4-hour window ends, you lace up and run, whether it's 4 AM or 4 PM. Most people we've talked to about this event walked the majority of it. We ran every single second.
It's not about physical fitness alone. The brutal combination of sleep deprivation, around-the-clock commitment, and knowing there's no finish line for two full days strips away comfort zones and reveals what you're made of when everything hurts and quitting feels so easy.
My best friend from high school, Mike, and I have a habit of challenging one another with increasingly intense strategies. Two years ago, he challenged me to run a marathon the week of the Missoula Marathon. Which I did. Which sucked! So naturally, the 4x4x48 seemed like our next logical step into voluntary suffering.
We'd talked about this challenge for two years, but we knew it meant a complete two-day commitment away from family and everyday life. We finally committed to the date of August 1 through 3. At the last minute, we convinced Levi Janacaro and Zach Peevey (two former Griz players) to join us. Looking back, we desperately needed their energy and mental toughness. "Up with Montana Boys!"
We went all in on preparation: $300 worth of groceries to fuel us, 60 hydration packets, and two cold plunge setups that consumed 45 bags of ice over the weekend. My house was transformed into an endurance athlete's base camp. We even watched Braveheart and Gladiator to keep the masculine and primal vibes at an all-time high.
With experience in distance running, I wasn't worried about the running portion. What made me nervous was exactly what I was experiencing at that midnight mirror moment. Exhaustion, physical pain, and bad life choices. The brutal start and stop cycle and sleep deprivation that no amount of training prepares you for.
We spent two days traversing every road in Lolo. Lolo is a sleepy little town on the outskirts of Missoula. About 4000 people with zero streetlights. There isn't a clean 4-mile loop in all of Lolo, so we pieced together different routes through neighborhoods, down gravel roads, and along the main drag. By the end, we'd probably mapped every street in town. The lack of traffic was a blessing, especially during those midnight and 4 AM runs when the town was completely silent. It gave me a greater appreciation of my little town, which I call home.
Over the 48 hours, I slept a total of 4.5 hours, grabbing quick naps between runs whenever exhaustion finally overpowered the adrenaline. I wouldn't say that I'm a huge sleeper. But 4.5 hours with 48 miles took me to a limit that I haven't encountered. I was irritable and cranky. I began to get annoyed with Levi, Mike, and Zach. I had to fight to encourage when I wanted nothing to do with my brothers in this suffering.
Standing in that mirror at midnight, I thought I was done. Every fiber of my being screamed to quit. My body was breaking down, my mind was fracturing, and every rational thought told me this was insane.
But here's what I learned at that moment: You are much stronger than you know. Your feelings don't dictate action. The voice in your head that says "I can't" is almost always wrong. Do what you said you would do regardless of pain and exhaustion. Character isn't built when things are easy. It's forged in moments exactly like this, when quitting would be the logical choice, but you choose to continue anyway.
So, I made a decision. I laced up my shoes, slathered Bio Freeze on my legs to numb the pain, and walked back out that door. Not because I felt like it, but because I had committed to it. That's the difference between who you think you are and who you actually are.
I also learned that life is better with people. You can't do this alone. Our toughest run was that midnight Saturday when we went out for a run with no guest runners. It was dark, damp, and cold. No one talked. We just swam in our negative emotions and exhaustion. I wish we'd brought music to break the oppressive silence. It was probably the most miserable I've been in all my races, and that's saying something.
But the community that rallied around us made all the difference. Former Grizzly football players Kale Edwards and Marcus Welnel joined us for legs. Colter Janacaro pushed through miles with us at 4:00 am. The Glidewell family (Zeke, Kebrom, Paul, and Atsede) showed up when we needed fresh energy. Co-workers Katie Whitehurst and Peter Walde, ex-football coach Eric Schmidt, and friend Ethan Jones all laced up at different points. My wife, Kaileigh, supported us by graciously vacating to her grandparents' house because our home was overtaken by sweaty, smelly endurance athletes.
The big question is: Why do we do this?
I've been thinking about this a lot. My wife wonders why I pursue these challenges. The truth is, I'm not naturally the strongest or toughest person. But I want to become someone who can handle life's stresses. I want to be the kind of man who doesn't crumble when things get hard. If I can choose to suffer voluntarily, maybe I'll be ready when life throws the inevitable curveballs that we all face. When death, sickness, or loss occurs, I want to be the person others can lean on. I want to embody the wisdom I heard about being the strongest person at your father's funeral. That's not who I am naturally, but it's who I'm trying to become.
How does this make me a better leader at work? I don't know for certain, but I hope it inspires our team to keep pushing through those long nights, keep showing up, and keep giving your best. Sometimes leadership isn't about having all the answers; it's about proving you won't quit when everything hurts.
The finish was exciting, but not as euphoric as you might imagine. Funny how that works. The two-day journey will be more lasting than completing that 48th mile. Like Scottie Scheffler said in a recent press conference about winning majors, “Sometimes the process teaches you more than the prize.”
What I'm most proud of isn't completing the 48 miles or surviving the sleep deprivation. It was when we finished at 8 AM Sunday, I took a shower, got dressed, and joined my wife at church. Because the person I want to become is someone who sticks to all his commitments, not just the ones that feel heroic.
The next time I look in the mirror after a sleepless night or when facing a difficult challenge, I'll remember that bloodshot-eyed version of myself at midnight and know I can handle whatever comes next.
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