Running was never the plan.
My running journey started June 2025 following the passing of my stepfather, Bob, who was a marathoner. Prior to that, I avoided running like the plague. 408 miles defined the beginning of my career in running: the distance I completed from my first run in June to my last in December ’25. Those 408 miles changed the fiber of who I was and I transformed from someone who hated running to someone with their eye on completing an ultramarathon.
Then I found the Black Copperhead Sting in early 2026. A 50K trail ultra in the heart of summer in NC. As I hovered over the register button, I thought of a few things. “Should I do this?” “You haven’t even completed a marathon yet.” “You hate running in the heat, why not pick another one with better conditions?” But then I clicked the button. I’ve seen heroes like David Goggins complete ultras but never once thought that was possible for me, now it was time to ignore the doubt and show myself that it was.
Fast forward to August, after several months of Ultra prep. The date is Aug 15th. The heat index forecasts the “feels like” to be 106 degrees. I knew it was going to be hot, but not this hot. With my wife as crew chief, and my buddy Sean (also his first Ultramarathon), we pack our kits and head to the trail.
The air is thick. I am feeling underprepared and slightly nervous. I have 50KM/31 miles to complete, but as we get closer to the 820am start time, the nerves slip away and excitement steadily creeps in. I’m more ready than I have ever been to run this race. We are called to the starting line and we’re off.
The Black Copperhead Sting is 9 loops. The trail carves through the woods of Belmont, NC and it is not flat. The whole thing feels like you’re either on a hill or going down one. The first 3 loops go smooth.
Pain started around mile 12 but that’s to be expected. I push through and continue to grind through the heavy Carolina heat. I don’t listen to music or anything when I run, so it’s just me out there with my thoughts and the sound of my feet pounding the trail.
Bob is the reason that I started running. His impact changed my path. The reason that I continue to run is for this reason: you will reach a point where your entire world is pain and you will want to stop. It’s inevitable if you go far enough. I felt that place for the first time at the Time Laps 24 hour relay in May ‘26, where my entire body was screaming after 35 miles. I thought I had reached my limit but found a way to make it to 40 miles. I believe that reaching your limit is the only place where you can truly create a new one. I want to go there. I need to go there.
I got what I was looking for. It’s lap 8 of 9. We are allowed a pacer to run with us for the final 3 loops, and my Brother Jake is with me. My knees are screaming. The heat is making my head spin. Lap 8 is excruciating. I barely run for longer than .1 mile clips at a time. My momentum came to a screeching halt. We finish lap 8 and set out for lap 9.
I start stronger than before, running longer clips, but it doesn’t last long. About a mile into lap 9 it’s back to short bursts followed by a labored walk. I am deep in the pain cave. The world around me does not exist. I am stripped to the rawest form of myself with only one thing on my mind: finishing this race. I am determined but slow. My eyes fixed to the trail in a dead stare.
Then it happened. Jake and I are a half mile from the finish line. I have reached my absolute limit and can’t run any longer. I ask myself a question: “what if you found a way?”… What if I could somehow find a way to scrape whatever I have left in me to run the rest of the distance without stopping. With .5 miles left I start running. My legs are on fire but I don’t care. I run until I reach the finish line. I did it.
Finishing this race was extremely emotional. Bob always used to ask me “when are we going to run a marathon together?” and I always told him the same answer: “never, Bob”. But today I did it. The version of myself who thought this was never possible was proven wrong. I just completed an Ultramarathon. I know that he is up there smiling down. I found my limit, I extended it, and that last half mile will be something I have forever.
I could not have done this without my tribe and without Bob. Bob, thank you for relentlessly pursuing running and showing me an example of what discipline means. To my crew, Jake and Angel, thank you for your endless support. To Sean: you have a zero to ultrarunner story of your own unfolding and I can’t tell you how much I respect you signing up for this race.
Onto the next one.
-Sam, Founder Anonymous Warrior