Just One More Loop: How God Carried Me Through my First 100 Mile Race
“I am done. I don’t think I can go any further. My leg and ankle are shot.”
Those words came out of my mouth at mile 18.8 of the Georgia Jewel 100-mile race. My wife, my crew, and my daughters were standing there listening. Up to that point, I was still top 10, but I had rolled my right ankle and heard a few pops. The pain shot up into my already irritated IT band and hamstring. Part of me thought it would be wise to quit and heal. The other part said, “You signed up. Maybe, make it to the next aid station and go from there.”
Before the race, I had set boundaries for safety: I’d only quit if a bone was exposed or if I passed out. Those weren’t casual boundaries—they came from my medical history. Years earlier, doctors discovered a large hole in my heart after a mini-stroke at infantry school in Fort Benning. Surgery failed because the mesh wasn’t large enough. Miraculously, I was cleared to run these distances if I stayed hydrated. That knowledge gave me freedom but also weight. I wasn’t running on my own terms. Every race had to be an act of stewardship. My body is mine to care for, but ultimately, it belongs to the Lord (1 Corinthians 6:19–20). God had already written grace into my story.
Leading into the race, He provided in surprising ways. My brother in Christ paid for chiropractor visits that gave me confidence in my body. My carbon poles were replaced under warranty and would become crutches in the miles ahead. I had a nutrition plan—100–125g of carbs per hour, 1200 mg sodium, 32–40 ounces of water—and even a plan B when running became walk-running. I had prepared, visualized, and prayed, but nothing could have prepared me for the spiritual classroom this race became.
At mile 18.8, I said those words: “I am done.” I changed socks, noticed blisters already formed, and—for reasons I can’t fully explain—decided to push on toward Dry Creek, 20 miles away. At mile 25, I had a 25-minute conversation about Jesus with a friend who had planned to quit there. God was already weaving purpose into my pain (Romans 8:28). If I had quit earlier, I would have missed that conversation entirely.
Darkness fell, and loneliness pressed in. I rolled my ankle four more times. I called my wife, knowing her voice might tip the balance. If she had answered in fear or worry, it may have been over. Instead, she gently asked, “Can you make it to the next aid station?” I said yes. Her calm yet coach like demeanor gave me fuel to continue (Proverbs 31:26).
At Dry Creek, my little brother Sam and crew chief Grant were ready for battle. I looked for empathy. I begged God for a clear sign: “Should I quit? Please make it clear!” The answer didn’t come in lightning or visions. It came in voices: “Just try one more lap.” “Cameron Hanes ran 200+ miles on a broken foot—ultras are rolled ankles and blisters.” Their encouragement lifted me. So I went back out into the dark.
On that loop, inspiration returned. God lit my path (Psalm 119:105). I even met another runner who recognized me: “Hey, Jesus for Breakfast guy!” That led to a conversation with a 48-year-old father and FBI agent. He had quit two ultras before and told me, “You’ll regret it if you quit.” His words stuck. He also spoke to me about Sabbath, and God used that conversation to end my 325-day run streak. Sabbath, I realized, is more about posture than mileage. However, I don’t want to give any confusing actions to my daughters about the importance of God in my life.
Then came Gretchen, a 50-year-old warrior on her second ultra. When I joked that I needed socks, she, without hesitation, let into her bag and handed me a size 11 pair—my size. A mom of three boys, she even dried my blistered feet with her shorts and prayed with me before sending me on. Moments later, she returned, saying, “The Holy Spirit told me to come back.” She stayed with me for 11 more miles. Hebrews 10:24–25 became flesh on that trail. Without her presence, I might have surrendered to despair. My mom tragically died when I was nine years old. On her normal everyday walk and worship music a tree limb suddenly fell, claiming her life. Since that tragic day, God has been redeeming that loss by providing other moms, just like my mom, to encourage me or influence me. Each time these moments bring a massive waves of tears and fuel to my soul.
Sam ran with me through the night until sunrise. My older brother Steve joined for the final 19 miles. At every aid station, doubt whispered: “What if you rip something? What if you can’t see your girls in time today because you are taking so long? What if your brother gets hurt?” But God kept me. Not my willpower—His grace (2 Corinthians 12:9). Every mile became less about my strength and more about His sustaining hand.
At the finish, a thousand emotions swept over me: “Lord, look at what You have done.” 32 hours. 14,000 feet of elevation gain. Family in hand. It was miraculous.
Lessons from the Georgia Jewel 100
God did it.
I know athletes say it on the microphone, but for me it was true—God was behind every ounce of strength. Before you quit or when you’re deep in pain, pray. And pray again. Then check your prayer. My heart wasn’t, “I want to impress man or prove I’m bulletproof.” My heart was, “Lord, I want to give You glory.” When I asked Him for help, He gave it—sometimes in energy, sometimes in peace, sometimes in people. I learned that when you ask God for something, obey quickly and watch Him sustain you. He doesn’t call the equipped; He equips the called. He gave me strength with every step of faith. (1 Corinthians 15:10)
2. Community is fuel.
My wife, my children’s faces at aid stations, my brothers Sam and Steve, Grant, Gretchen, Jeremiah, the FBI agent, other runners who helped coach me prior to this, even the runner who told me “it’s probably in your head”—all were instruments God used to keep me going. I am wired for community, and so are you. Through the Holy Spirit, the words and presence of others became supernatural fuel to keep moving forward against all odds. Don’t do life alone. Ask God to put people around you, then perk your ears up and close your mouth. He always responds through His people. (Ecclesiastes 4:9–12)
3. One more loop.
At my lowest point, the advice from Grant and Sam was simple: “Just one more loop.” My wife, when I admitted I wasn’t doing well, said, “Just make it to the next aid station.” That shift in focus saved me. Thinking about the entire 100 miles crushed me. But breaking it down to the next station, the next climb, the next step, the next cheeseburger—that kept me present. The same is true in life. If you focus on the chemo rounds, the whole year of struggle, the weight of 100 unknowns, you will fold under the pressure. But if you stay present, faithful in the moment God gives you, He will provide the grace you need. (Matthew 6:34)
4. Plan and prepare.
My plan was clear: 100–125g of carbs per hour, 1200 mg sodium, 32–40 ounces of water. Eat often early, when I could—like mashed potatoes at aid stations—because opportunities would shrink later. I also prepared by watching a 50-minute YouTube video of the course 11 times. Before I stepped on the start line, I had already run it in my mind. That stripped away the fear of the unknown. I even visualized pain before I felt it, so it wouldn’t surprise me. Where I fell short was not planning enough fuel for long stretches of hiking. But that taught me: adapt the plan, don’t abandon it. The more unknowns you make known ahead of time, the more resilient and adaptable you’ll be when surprises come. (Proverbs 21:5)
5. Goals with the right focus.
I am naturally competitive, so my goals used to be about podiums, course records, and finishing first. But after reading Inner Excellence, praying, and talking with God and others, I reshaped my goals:
Give it everything I have - because He gave everything for me.
Inspire others to believe what's possible when a man runs fully surrendered to God.
Fuel like a warrior - with wisdom, discipline, and joy — to honor the race God marked out for me.
Run with joy. Smile in the storm. Enjoy every mile with the One who runs beside me.
Writing goals this way took pressure off me to perform and freed me to focus on the present. It helped me enjoy my competitors as brothers and sisters running their own races, not just rivals. It made the whole experience more joyful. “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” (Colossians 3:23)
RUN YOUR RACE.
Movement is medicine, but the greatest joy comes from pleasing God. As Ken Boa says, “When God is glorified, you are satisfied, and the world is evangelized or edified.” That’s freedom.
The Georgia Jewel didn’t prove I’m unbreakable. It proved God is faithful. I didn’t keep going because my willpower was bulletproof. I kept going because grace preserved me. “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.” (Hebrews 12:1–2)
Never Finished Challenge: RUN YOUR RACE.
Stop comparing yourself to others. Stay fixed on Him and you won’t be behind, lost, or confused. This week, memorize Hebrews 12:1–2. When you face a moment you want to quit—at work, in family, or on a run—pray, “Lord, look at what You have done,” and take one more faithful step.