When Walking Wasn’t Enough

From Broken to Running Again

Even before my Army years, I considered myself a runner. When I joined the Army, I was forced to become a real one. For nearly 22 years, I ran daily, counting down the day I could retire and never have to run again. That didn’t last long. A few years later, I was running again.

 

Back Surgery

My back problems began after my last deployment to Afghanistan in 2014. A herniated disc and spinal stenosis refused to improve. My sciatic nerve was being crushed. The pain became unbearable, and my leg constantly gave out.

Doctors told me running and hiking were no longer realistic goals. “Just walk,” they said. That crushed me.

One day, I bent down — and it was over. I couldn’t move. The pain forced me to see a neurosurgeon. In March 2025, I had a microdiscectomy. I expected a quick recovery.

When I woke up, the chronic pain was gone. I felt incredible. There was no real rehabilitation plan — just “no lifting for a few weeks.” And like most people who feel better too fast, I didn’t listen.

Two weeks later, I was doing yard work. I told my wife I’d take it easy. Minutes later, I was limping back inside. By that afternoon, I couldn’t get out of bed.

The next morning, we went to the ER. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t move my leg. I allowed someone to push me in a wheelchair for the first time in my life. I thought I was going to be paralyzed.

That night, I agreed to a second surgery — an open laminectomy, one step before a spinal fusion. The surgery worked, but recovery became real: three months minimum, possibly a year.

 

Recovery

I went from running daily to barely being able to sit or lie down. I felt helpless.

Physical activity had always been my way of managing PTSD. Without it, my mind had nowhere to go. I tried not to fall into depression, but it wasn’t easy.

I watched TV. I ate. I slept. Repeat.

I went into surgery at about 195 lbs. I came out of recovery at nearly 220. The weight gain made everything worse. I felt trapped — like I was sinking into a black hole. Then something shifted.

I started walking more. Around eight weeks post-op, my walks got faster. One day, I jogged. It felt unreal. Before surgery, I couldn’t run for more than five minutes without pain. I had spent nearly a decade unable to run pain-free. Now, my walks became slow jogs. The doctors said, “Listen to your body.” My body said, run.

 

Running Became My Outlet Again

After a few weeks of walking and jogging, I reached out to a local run club. I needed accountability. I needed community.

With social anxiety and zero interest in making new friends, I almost didn’t go. But I did and they were welcoming. I finished the run and surprisingly they ivited me back, so I did. That’s where my journey toward becoming an ultrarunner started — not with a finish line, but by refusing to accept the limits I was given.

 

If you’re struggling, recovering, or wondering if you’ll ever get back to what you love — don’t quit. Your story isn’t over.