Last weekend, I closed out the Iron Will Grand Slam by finishing the Iron Will 100. This was my fourth 100-miler of the series and, surprisingly, the smoothest one I’ve ever run. Like most 100-mile races, it’s taken me about a week to gather my thoughts and put everything into words—but this one is worth unpacking.

Going into this race, my training volume wasn’t great. Between work, family and business responsibilities, I couldn’t stack the miles like I wanted. Over my eight-week training cycle, I never ran longer than 15 miles. My weekly mileage totals were embarrassingly low.

What I did manage, though, was consistency in the other areas. I logged at least four hours of DDP Yoga every week, stayed disciplined with recovery in the cryotherapy chamber, sauna, and compression boots, and kept my body feeling solid even if the miles weren’t there. Showing up on race day, I wasn’t in peak running shape, but my body felt better than it had going into any of the other three races. My game plan was simple: rely on conditioning, discipline, and willpower to get me through.

The gun went off at 6 a.m. and I felt strong right out of the gate. The course was a 10-mile out-and-back, with aid stations every 5 miles. I built my entire hydration and nutrition plan around that setup:

• Hydration: 60 oz every 5 miles—half water, half electrolytes. During the heat of the day, I made sure to down at least 16 oz at the station and carry 44 oz with me.

• Nutrition: 600 calories every 10 miles, with extra around meal times.

By mile 25, the temperature had climbed into the 90s. That’s when I deliberately slowed my pace and leaned on my heart-rate strategy. I kept things mostly in Zone 2, occasionally bumping into Zone 3 but always backing off. The pace dipped as the heat rose, but my energy stayed high. I could go faster but knew this was the best plan for energy conservation. By late afternoon, I saw a lot of other runners struggling, but I still felt fresh. At mile 40, I told my crew: “This is the best I’ve ever felt at the 40-mile mark of a 100.”

At mile 50, Ashley Nichole joined me. Right before that, I started feeling pain in my left ankle. My plan had been to hold the same pace until mile 65, but the ankle forced me to back off early. By mile 54, I slowed my pace by about 90 seconds per mile—and then locked into that rhythm for the rest of the race. My pace per mile maintained consistent.

Miles 60–70: Matt jumped in is my pacer. It was the middle of the night, and honestly, this section was a blur. But Matt’s been with me before and knew exactly how to keep me moving.

Miles 70–80: Mark took over pacing duties. Another steady hand in the dark, another reminder of how much experience this crew brings.

By the time I hit 80, the ankle pain had crept back in. Rachel taped me up during the break, and when Tony joined for the final 20, it felt almost brand new.

Tony and I were able to hold a consistent pace all the way to the finish. For the first time ever, I crossed a 100-mile finish line feeling good. David from Happy Hawk Massage, who’s worked on me after multiple races, said my calves didn’t feel like they do at 100 miles—and that was a first.

Big thanks to my crew. Every single one of them has been out there for at least four of my 100-milers, and by now we’re a well-oiled machine. They each sacrificed big chunks of their own time to help me chase these goals, and I couldn’t have done it without them.

And most of all, thanks to Jesus for healing my back and making this possible. We’ve come a long way since the accident—I am blessed.

Finishing the Grand Slam this way was special. Strongest performance, clean execution, and my body felt better than I ever imagined after 100 miles. It’s been a wild journey—from a back injury eight years ago, to stepping into ultrarunning, to completing my first Grand Slam.

For now, I’ll probably sneak in at least a one 50K before the year’s out, then shut it down for a bit. No more 100-milers until next fall. But trust me, I’ve got some ridiculous challenges already lined up for 2026.

Stay tuned—it’s only going to get crazier (and a little weird) from here.