08/05/2026
Denali 135.
135 (ish) miles through some of the most breathtaking scenery I’ve ever witnessed, and my third 100+ mile finish this year.
When I crossed the finish line, I thought the greatest thing God had done was help me finish the race.
Looking back, though, I think the greater work began AFTER I finished.
Going into Denali, I was anxious. My Achilles was injured, and I knew the chances of finishing on it were slim.
But every mile became another reminder that if I was going to finish, it wouldn’t be because I was strong enough.
It would only be because God carried me.
And He did. Every single mile.
To Him alone belongs the glory. 💛
When I take an honest look back over this entire season of back-to-back ultras, I realize something that has been difficult to admit.
I don’t actually believe my running was truly being led by God.
I WANTED to glorify Him.
I SAID it was for Him.
But my choices often revealed something different.
Three weeks before Denali, I ran Rabid Raccoon 100.
Deep down, I knew I shouldn’t.
I was sick as a dog.
My ankle had recently been sprained and sustained a chip fracture.
I didn’t have the training base I needed going into it.
I ran anyway. Not because God was leading me there, but because I wanted redemption after my DNF the year before.
Looking back, that wasn’t faith.
It was pride dressed up as perseverance.
Now, weeks later, I’m still dealing with Achilles tendinitis along with a hip/glute injury that has stopped my training completely.
The mountains in Alaska were breathtaking.
The race along the Denali Highway was unforgettable.
But what God taught me after the race was over has been even greater.
The hardest realization wasn’t about one race.
It was about my heart.
I always said I wanted my running to glorify God.
And I truly believed that.
But somewhere along the way, my focus drifted.
I’d wake up early for a workout, yet I was often willing to put off the time I spent simply sitting in God’s presence.
His Word fit around my training schedule more often than my training fit around Him.
Running wasn’t just something I loved.
It had slowly become something I depended on.
Over these past six weeks away from running, God has shown me something I couldn’t see while I was constantly chasing the next finish line.
Stillness.
At first I saw it as an interruption.
Now I see it as an invitation.
Sometimes God removes something we love—not to punish us, but to reveal what our hearts have been holding onto.
These past six weeks haven’t been easy.
I miss running.
I miss trails.
I miss training.
But I’ve also rediscovered something infinitely better.
The quiet joy of simply being with Him.
Not striving.
Not performing.
Not earning.
Just abiding.
And I wouldn’t trade what He’s teaching me.
I’ll run again.
I’ll train again.
Lord willing, I’ll stand on more starting lines and more finish lines.
But I don’t want to return as the same runner.
I don’t want running to compete with Christ.
I want it to point to Him.
I want every mile to become worship.
Every workout to become stewardship.
Every finish line to become another opportunity to say,
“Not to us, O LORD, not to us, but to Your name goes all the glory.”
— Psalm 115:1 (NLT)
Denali wasn’t the greatest victory of my year so far.
Learning to surrender has been.
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