Most people celebrate Cinco de Mayo with tacos and tequila. I celebrated mine with a free group run and a surprise PR.
The 5K run was hosted by Run In Greenville and New Balance, held at the always lively Double Stamp Brewery. It was one of those perfect spring evenings where the vibes were light and the energy was high. The kind of night where you show up expecting a social jog, and somehow end up racing the clock.
The real wildcard? New Balance brought some demos, and I couldn’t resist trying out the FuelCell SuperComp Elite v4s. The moment I laced them up, my legs said “¡Vámonos!”
I wasn’t planning to push the pace, but the bounce in those carbon-plated super shoes said otherwise. Whether it was the shoe technology, the vibes from the crowd, or the Cinco magic—I found myself cruising faster than I’ve ever run a 5K.
Previous 5K PR: 26:13
Cinco de Mayo: Sub-26, baby.
Yeah, yeah, my Apple Watch says 3.09 miles. Haters can take it up with the GPS gods. The real takeaway? My pace was 7 seconds per mile faster than my previous PR, and I felt smooth the entire way.
Was it the shoes? The placebo? The CINCO magic?
Don’t know. Don’t care.
All I know is: FAST is FUN.
Big thanks to Run In Greenville, New Balance, and Double Stamp Brewery for putting on a great event. I’ll definitely be back for more group runs—and maybe another PR or two. 🌮✨
This Saturday, May 3rd, a small group of us will gather in downtown Greenville, SC, for a 5K meetup in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month. I wanted to take a moment to share why this matters.
The event is part of the Move For It 5K, a nationwide virtual campaign organized by To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA), a nonprofit that exists to bring hope, help, and mental health resources to those who are struggling.
We’ll meet at Run-In on E. Washington Street and move together along the Swamp Rabbit Trail — not racing, just showing up. The pace doesn’t matter. What matters is the intention behind the movement: to remind ourselves and others that people need other people.
This campaign isn’t about miles or medals — it’s about mental health. It’s about creating space for hard conversations, showing solidarity with those in pain, and moving in the name of hope.
I’m sharing this because I believe storytelling can spark connection. If you’re reading this and mental health is something you care about — or something you’ve personally struggled with — I invite YOU to follow along, reflect, share, or donate if you feel called.
This weekend, we move not just for ourselves, but for anyone who needs to know they’re not alone. If you’re struggling, please know that hope is real, help is real, and your story is important.
And if you’re local and want to move with us — it’s not too late!
We’ll start at 7:30 AM at Run-In in downtown Greenville. Just show up ready to run, walk, or simply be part of something meaningful. See you on the trail! 🏃♂️
“How many years can some people exist before they’re allowed to be free?” – Dylan
55:08 | 10K | New PR
12 minutes faster than December.
I didn’t just run. I broke loose. From the weight I used to carry. From the me that thought this wasn’t possible.
With every step, I remembered: I’m allowed to fly. The cage was never locked.
Freedom in motion. Not just a mantra— a reckoning.
I’m not finding myself. I’m freeing myself.
I’m free to move without asking for permission. I’m free to chase what lights me up instead of what weighs me down. I’m free to live within my own cadence, not someone else’s expectation. I’m free to take up space. Fully. Unapologetically. I’m free to run toward myself, not away from doubt. I’m free to speak my truth. Stand in my fire. Never shrinking back. I’m free to become more me with every step forward. I’m free to define my own finish line and to crush it on my own terms.
“How many roads must a man walk down?” “How many years must a mountain exist?” “How many deaths will it take till he knows?” The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.
Existence can be fleeting. But it doesn’t have to be.
Nothing changes if nothing changes. Change is the key to unlock destiny.
A fork in the road. Rain on the mountain. Sudden and unexpected loss.
Some bring bliss. Some bring heartache. All bring change.
And it’s up to the traveler to decide the road. It’s up to the climber to choose the path. It’s up to the survivor to keep moving forward.
It’s up to the soul to rise on the zephyr, embracing what was always within reach.
If you had shown me this photo a year ago and asked what it meant to me, I probably would’ve said, “It’s just a track.”
Now? I see freedom. I see the birthplace of a champion. I see possibility. I see the grind, the sweat, the growth—and the liberty to chase it all.
Purpose isn’t a destination. No one reaches the end of the road and says, “I’ve figured it all out.”
Meaning is made in motion—in the quiet moments, in the breath between steps, in the ever-evolving conversation between your soul, the ground beneath you, and something greater than us all.
The question isn’t “What’s my purpose?” The question is: “What brings me alive—right now?”
And this picture, in this moment, means exactly that: Alive.
I feel it when my feet strike the track, when the crisp air fills my lungs, when the sun kisses my skin. I feel it in the thunder of my heartbeat, in the silence of running alone. There’s no crowd. No medal. Just me. And I feel more alive than ever.
Someone said to me today, “You don’t need to run. You’re skinny.” I laughed and said, “Funny… my mom used to say the same thing.” And I appreciate the sentiment—sort of. But I don’t run to lose weight. I run to feel alive.
A year ago, I was in the darkest mental space I’ve ever known. Disconnected. Numb. Drowning in the noise of my own mind. I wasn’t in conversation with my soul—I wasn’t even listening. And I sure as hell wasn’t free.
Since I started running, the conversations have returned. Some of them are too raw to repeat. But whether it’s the track or the trail, I’ve found something sacred in the discipline.
I’ve traded my chains of fear for the work. And it’s the work that sets me free.
That’s the difference between a prisoner… and a champion.
No one ever told me that doing hard things could coexist with so much joy.
A couple of weeks ago I ran my first half marathon in Myrtle Beach. With it being my first ever half, I came into race weekend expecting it to fully suck. And honestly, I was ready to embrace it. I was prepared to ride the wave and push through the pain, knowing it was part of the process.
But then something surprising happened. Just past the halfway point, as I was steadily pacing with the 2:30 group, I felt good. Not just “hanging in there” good, but genuinely strong, present, and capable. And in that moment, it hit me—the wave had already been ridden. The past 30 days of 100 miles, plus the 60+ miles in January, that was the real work. That was the true test. The day-in, day-out, feet-on-the-ground consistency, even when I didn’t feel like it, was so much harder than my 2:19 finish in MB.
That realization changed everything for me.
The Journey to Race Day
Training for a half marathon is not just about running 13.1 miles on race day. It’s about every single run leading up to it. It’s about lacing up your shoes when your legs are tired. It’s about getting out there in the cold, the rain, or when motivation is at its lowest. The true test wasn’t the race—it was every single run before it. The half marathon itself? That was the victory lap.
And let me be clear—it wasn’t a walk in the park. Running for over two hours straight is hard. Mile 12 tested me. My mind was filled with questions and doubt, my legs burned, and I wondered if I had enough left in the tank. But then I reminded myself: I had done enough. I had put in the work. I had already won before I even stepped onto that course.
The Finish Line
As I neared the end, I knew I would easily beat my goal. That gave me the push to ramp it up even more. The crowd’s cheers carried me forward, and when I crossed that finish line, it was like a floodgate opened. I broke down in tears. Not out of exhaustion, but from an overwhelming rush of joy.
I had done it.
Not only had I accomplished my longest distance yet, but I had also kept a promise to myself from 60 days ago. And I had done it in a way that filled me with joy. The medal around my neck was a great symbol of achievement, but the real reward? The person I became in the process.
Reflection: It’s All About the Grind
The Myrtle Beach Half Marathon gave me more than just a medal—it gave me perspective. It reminded me that the real victory isn’t in the race itself but in the months of preparation leading up to it. The real win is in the discipline, the grit, and the consistency.
To everyone out there pushing themselves toward a goal—whether it’s running, fitness, or any personal challenge—know this: the reward isn’t just at the finish line. It’s in every step along the way.
Thank you, MB Half. You were too good to me. I do not deserve you. But I’m sure glad I have you.
Special thanks to my wife, Kellie, for the best support I could ever ask for. I wouldn’t be here without you. 🫶
55:08 | 10K | New PR
