I’m running 100 miles for cancer, and I’d like to share why this means so much to me and why I hope you’ll join me in supporting the cause.
A Journey Beyond the Miles
Running has always been a personal challenge—an opportunity for growth, self-discipline, and pushing through physical and mental boundaries. But in February, my miles will carry a deeper purpose. As I run each step, I will do it in honor of those who have battled and lost, those who are still fighting, and those who have fought and won. This challenge is about more than just endurance—it’s about remembering loved ones and supporting those in the fight against cancer right now.
While my half marathon on March 1st unfortunately won’t count towards my 100-mile challenge (it ends February 28th), it still represents the physical and emotional effort that this month is all about. Every mile run will be for them—those whose strength and courage inspire me to keep pushing, especially when it gets tough.
Honoring the Fighters, Remembering the Lost
Cancer has impacted nearly every one of us in some way. Whether it’s a loved one who has faced the disease, a friend or family member who is still fighting, or someone we’ve lost too soon, the emotional weight of cancer is undeniable. I’ve seen firsthand how cancer takes its toll, but I’ve also witnessed the incredible resilience of those who fight it with all they have.
This month, I’m running for everyone who has battled cancer and for the families who have supported them. Whether you’ve lost someone to this disease, or you know someone currently in the fight, I hope you’ll take a moment to reflect on those warriors and their strength.
Why 100 Miles?
Running 100 miles in one month is no small feat. But I’ve chosen this challenge because it symbolizes the perseverance and determination needed to overcome cancer. Each mile represents a step toward raising awareness, offering support, and raising funds for critical research that continues to push us closer to a cure.
I believe in the power of community, and that’s why I’m asking for your support. Every donation to my JustGiving page goes toward cancer research and support for those who need it most. Together, we can make a tangible difference.
How You Can Help
I’d be honored if you could join me in this journey in any way you can, whether you donate, share this post, or simply offer words of encouragement as I take on this challenge.
You can follow my progress and contribute to the cause on my fundraising page: Brent Runs for Cancer. Every donation, no matter how small, helps fund cancer research and support services that improve the lives of those fighting this disease.
Thank you for being part of this journey. With your help, we can make these miles count.
The miles I run this February will be a physical challenge, but the emotional drive behind them is what will keep me going. This is my way of honoring those who have battled cancer, remembering those we’ve lost, and supporting those who are still fighting with every step.
I laced up my shoes before the sun came up and headed downtown for a race I’d been preparing for but wasn’t obsessing over. It wasn’t the big one circled on my calendar — just another step in my half-marathon training plan. I’ve done plenty of 5Ks before, so I felt calm and confident, ready for the test ahead.
The cool air was alive with the energy of other runners, all with their own reasons for showing up. Some were chasing medals, others chasing fitness. For me, it was simple: I came to get better. I came to run fast. A light rain had started to fall, adding a sharp edge to the cold morning. It soaked the pavement and clung to my clothes, but it didn’t matter. Rain, cold, or discomfort — they were just part of the challenge.
When the race started, the rhythm came easy. One step, then another. Downtown Greenville blurred around me, the familiar streets transformed by the pounding of feet and the cheer of onlookers. I wasn’t thinking about the finish line, not yet. I focused on breathing, pace, and staying steady.
Midway through, that familiar tug of doubt crept in. My legs ached. I glanced at my watch and noticed how far ahead of pace I was. My mind whispered that slowing down was fine, that I’d already done enough. But here’s the thing about training for anything worth doing — you learn to quiet the voices that beg for comfort. I kept going.
When I crossed the finish line, I looked at my watch: 28:38. A new personal record.
It felt good. Better than good.
But not because of the number itself — I know a PR isn’t the goal. It’s a rung on a much taller ladder. The real prize is still 32 days away, on a longer course, with a bigger test waiting.
32 days.
32 chances to show up.
32 opportunities to grind.
Every training run, every mile logged, is a step closer to the race that matters. The lesson I took from my last race is simple but powerful: Progress doesn’t come from chasing perfection; it comes from relentless persistence.
I’ve got 32 days to embrace the work. To rise before the sun. To push my limits.
I proved I’m stronger than I was before. And next time, I’ll be stronger still.
When I first picked up a pickleball paddle in 2021, all I knew about it came from friends and the internet. Back in 2021, the sport didn’t have the country in the chokehold it does today. Despite its historically low profile, all of the stereotypes rang true in my mind: Isn’t that a silly game for retired geriatrics? It’s not an athletic sport! And it certainly wouldn’t be any fun… right? Right?
The Rising Popularity of Pickleball and The Evolution of the Game
Boy, was I wrong. And I certainly didn’t expect it to hook me the way it did. The sport has changed dramatically since its rise in popularity just in a few short years. Today the sport is played by a greater variety of demographics; it’s faster, more competitive, and more exciting than ever.
This is partly due to improved paddle and ball technology, but it’s also an inevitable adaptation of athletic playing style and the human pursuit of peak performance: Faster + Stronger = Better!
Mental Resilience Reigns Supreme
But accomplishment on the court is not dominated by speed and power. It’s much more dimensional than that. At its core, pickleball is a game of nuance and variety. The heart of any racquet sport is precision, strategy, and adaptability. The soft game, the ability to read your opponent’s positioning, and the mastery of placement over raw strength all come together to create a dynamic and layered experience. It’s not just about who can hit the hardest or fastest; it’s about making smart decisions, controlling the pace, and adjusting to the ever-changing rhythm of the match. Most of all, mental resilience—the ability to reset after a mistake.
Mistakes are unavoidable in every sport. The key isn’t in eliminating them, but in the ability to reset quickly after they happen.
My early days were full of mishits, smashes into the net, and the frustrating habit of trying to speed up every ball. I didn’t understand the idea of point construction. I forced every shot, attempting to win the point with every ball I hit. I certainly didn’t have an inkling about partner strategy or communication.
I was impatient.
But I was determined.
The path from 3.0 to 3.5 wasn’t a straight line. It was a mix of humbling experiences, small victories, and a helluva lot of repetition. Today, I want to share what got me here — and how I’m working to take my game even further.
The Early Struggles: Consistency and Control
In the beginning, consistency was my biggest challenge. I would string together a few good shots only to lose momentum with unforced errors. The mistakes would pile up quickly, and before I knew it, my partner and I would be down by multiple points and counting. I lost count of the shutouts. It didn’t matter how good my partner was. I would always find a way to screw up the point and lose the match for both of us.
It was devastating.
If I wanted to keep playing this game, I needed to get better. So I focused on mastering the soft game — dinks and drop shots — which forced me to slow things down. Drilling these skills was tedious at first, but it gave me more control over rallies. Developing touch and feel transformed how I approached each shot, and it’s what moved me solidly into the 3.5 category.
Lessons That Made the Biggest Difference
Here’s what I believe had the greatest impact on my skill level:
1. Learning Patience & Positioning at the Kitchen Line
Patience in the point doesn’t come naturally. I tried to win from anywhere BUT the kitchen line. Once I committed to winning “at the line“, and softening my play, my consistency improved. I began to see the value of waiting for the right opportunity rather than forcing the point.
2. Footwork, Footwork, Footwork
Good footwork is underrated. I started focusing on my positioning, making sure I was balanced before hitting shots. Moving into the correct spot instead of reaching was a game-changer for both my power and accuracy.
3. Better Court Awareness
Pickleball isn’t just about hitting the ball; it’s about strategy. I worked on recognizing patterns, anticipating my opponents’ moves, and playing smarter rather than harder. It’s amazing how much difference a simple adjustment in placement can make.
4. Embracing Drill Work
I won’t lie — like most players, I enjoy games more than drills. But drilling serves, returns, drops, and dinks gave me the muscle memory I needed to get out of my head and play more confidently. I learned that practice without pressure is essential if you want to improve.
What I’m Working on Now
While I feel confident in my skill level as a 3.5+ player, I’m far from satisfied. Here’s where my focus is as I improve to 4.0+:
• Speed and Reaction Time
At 4.0, points move faster, and players hit harder. I’m working on reacting quicker at the net, especially in fast-paced hand battles. Speed-up and reset drills are a consistent part of my routine now.
• Doubles Strategy
If you’ve ever been matched with an unequally skilled partner (who hasn’t?), you understand partnership strategy can win or lose the match. Communication with a partner is key to winning at this level. I’m studying positioning, court coverage, and shot selection to play smarter doubles.
• Mental Toughness
Pickleball is a mental game as much as a physical one. Staying calm under pressure and staying positive after mistakes are skills I’m actively developing. It’s a work in progress, but it makes a big difference. This is where I see the greatest area for improvement.
The Journey Ahead
Pickleball has been an incredible teacher. It’s shown me how to be patient, how to adapt to things out of my control, think strategically, and keep pushing my limits. As I work toward 4.0, I’m reminded that improvement comes from consistent effort, a willingness to learn, and, of course, a love of the game.
If you are an introvert like me and don’t go to the courts with a consistent group of friends, then finding players can be difficult. Check out social media, specifically groups on Facebook. Most local communities use a combination of social media and mobile apps for coordinating play and communication. In my region of the Upstate of South Carolina, we use a Facebook group (currently 9k members and growing) and most parks are on the TeamReach app.
Wherever you are in your pickleball journey, I hope my story reminds you that progress is possible with the right mindset. Be adaptable, stay coachable, and never stop drilling.
There’s a special kind of satisfaction that comes from seeing a project through to the end, especially when it doesn’t go as planned. I recently tackled a home repair DIY project that turned out to be more of an adventure than I’d bargained for. What started as a simple task—replacing a rotten wall panel and some insulation—quickly spiraled into something much bigger:
Replacing all the insulation
Re-running electrical wiring
Removing old newspaper insulation under the window sill
Spraying foam sealant
Caulking the outside brick
Adding nail-stopper plates
Then finally replacing the wall panel
It was messy, unexpected, and honestly, overwhelming at times. But finishing it felt incredible because the challenge forced me to adapt, learn, and grow.
summer wanted to help but she didn’t know the difference between a pry bar and a wrecking bar. and has no thumbs.it got messy quicklythe extent of thee water damagethey used newspaper as insulation! 😱dated Nov. 5, 1970front page of the newspaperI’m no electrician but this doesn’t seem right. 🤨also this…i could clearly see daylight to the outside! no good!QUAD to the rescue!we call it good.
Therapy is like a DIY project—messy, unpredictable, and life-changing.
Home repairs, as it turns out, are a perfect metaphor for therapy. Just like peeling back a wall reveals hidden issues, opening yourself up in therapy can expose complexities you didn’t anticipate. What you thought was one “rotten panel” might be layers of unresolved emotions, unexamined beliefs, or buried experiences.
And let’s be honest: that can be terrifying. Not only do you have to confront the work itself, but you also face the uncertainty of what lies beneath. Therapy often means diving into unknown territory—places you’ve never explored.
But here’s the thing: the first time you face those fears is the hardest. Each time after that? It gets a little easier. What once felt impossible starts to feel doable.
The Transformation
Better than before!
That’s the beauty of the work. Therapy takes what feels overwhelming and makes it manageable. Over time, the things you once avoided become things you conquer. They might even become things you enjoy.
And the best part? It’s life-changing. When you look back, you realize how far you’ve come and wonder, “How was I ever afraid of THAT?” The change is in the challenge.
Running into 2025 with my head up, eyes forward, and heart open—and I’m not looking back for a second. 🏃🏻♂️💨
This year, I’m saying farewell to the me I’ve outgrown, celebrating the me I’ve rediscovered, and embracing the anticipation of the me I’m yet to know.
2025 is my year to conquer new challenges, starting with running my first half marathon. This time last year, I had only ever run 5Ks, never daring to call myself a distance runner. But everything changed when my wife challenged me to run the Greenville Trees Upstate Turkey Day 8K. I accepted—and crushed it. It wasn’t so bad after all, so I leveled up to a 10K. Now, with a 10-miler just 30 days away and my first half marathon in 60, I’ve gone from hesitant to hooked.
They call it the “running bug” for a reason. There’s nothing quite like the rush of crossing a finish line, the dopamine hit that floods your system, and the satisfaction of crushing a goal you once thought impossible. It’s euphoric. And I’m here for all of it this year—chasing the real dopamine, the kind that fuels growth, resilience, and self-discovery.
But this journey is about more than just running; it’s about pushing the limits I never thought I could challenge. Growing up, I wasn’t much of an athlete. Between mild asthma, outdoor allergies, and a chronic heart condition called Aortic Stenosis (a narrowing of the aortic valve that can limit blood flow and endurance), I was always told to “take it easy.” Physical activity was something I approached with caution, never pushing too hard or taking risks.
Movement is Medicine.
Ironically, it’s only by stepping outside those limits that I’ve become the healthiest version of myself. As I’ve increased my physical activity, my cardio fitness has soared. My resting heart rate is the lowest it’s ever been, and my HRV (heart rate variability)—a measure of my body’s resilience and recovery—is the highest it’s ever been. Beyond the physical benefits, running has transformed my mental health. It’s my stress reliever, mood booster, and a time for clarity and reflection.
In my upper 30s, I’m acutely aware of how important it is to stay active as I age. Movement is my medicine. I want to feel this good not just now but decades from now. When I’m twice my age, I want to be strong, mobile, and capable—not confined to a chair.
So here’s the plan for my half marathon:
1️⃣ Goal #1 is simply to finish.
2️⃣ Goal #2 is to finish with a sub-12-minute mile pace (or under 2:37 overall).
And if I don’t? It won’t be a failure; it’ll be a stepping stone for whatever challenge comes next.
Growth happens on the other side of comfort.
Limits exist to be pushed. Growth happens on the other side of comfort. And this year, I’m choosing to be uncomfortable in the best ways possible.
Here’s to running into the new year with purpose, passion, and perseverance. Join me on the journey—it’s going to a maratahon–not a sprint! 🏃♂️✨
