05/26/2026
I’ve sat here for two days trying to figure out how to write this post, and honestly.. every time I think I’ve got the words, it still feels like I’m leaving pieces of my heart out of it.
*Warning*- It's a long read, so buckle in or move on. 😅
Because this was never just about a record.
Saturday night, after almost 20 years, my Tri County 800m record officially fell.
Alex Culver ran an unbelievable 1:59.43 and became the new record holder and the first winner of the scholarship. His mark will now be the one to beat to get the scholarship!
And I can honestly say with my whole heart..
what a beautiful thing to witness and to be apart of 🙏
That record meant a lot to me.
Not because my name sat on a board somewhere, but because of everything it represented in my life. Back in 2007, during my junior year, I wasn’t just chasing a faster time around a track. I was chasing purpose. I was chasing meaning. I was trying to prove to myself that sacrifice mattered, discipline mattered, and that if you gave everything you had to something, you could become something greater than the circumstances around you.
I gave it everything. So I had to give up everything.
Relationships and distractions pushed aside. Pop and junk food, gone. Morning runs before school. Training after practice. Late nights. Early mornings.
I became obsessed with the process.
Looking back now, maybe that sounds extreme for a high school kid, but at that age I didn’t know how to do anything halfway.. still don’t. I wanted that record with everything inside me.
And truthfully, running became more than a sport during those years.
It became an escape when life felt chaotic. It became peace when my mind wasn’t. It became discipline. Identity. An outlet. A place to pour myself into something meaningful instead of letting it consume me.
And the crazy thing is, at that age you think you’re just training for a race that week… but years later you realize God was building something much deeper inside you the whole time.
Perseverance. Heart. Discipline. Faith. The ability to keep moving forward when life gets heavy.
I still remember the night I broke Mike Applewhite’s record for the 800. It was our conference meet. I took 2nd overall, but even though I had silver around my neck, I had gold in my heart.
Before the race started, I remember talking to some teammates and asking them to have our boys and girls teams stand down by the 200m mark and scream when I came through, because I already knew where I was making my move. It was risky, but I knew by that point my body would need that drive. Most races I started my kick at the 200m mark, so I knew I'd be hitting my wall sooner than before.
Coming into the second lap it was neck and neck.
At the 300 mark, I kicked in, shifted gears, and hit it.
With 200 left I could start to feel the wall coming.
But it didn’t matter.
My team came through.
I came around that bend and it was packed with black and gold.
The screaming. The chaos. The energy. That Viking battle cry behind me.
It felt like pain and peace all at once.
I can still remember my body feeling cold and weightless at the same time, chills running through me, the hair standing up on the back of my neck.
Somehow, when your body has absolutely nothing left, hearing people believe in you pulls something extra out of your soul. And more often than not, that’s where the final gear lives.. the moment your body carries you somewhere your mind can’t control anymore.
That’s what carried me.
Once I hit the final 100, the crowd became a roar and just kept feeding that pull forward. I crossed the line and knew I broke the record the second my foot landed past it. My coach was waiting at the finish line, and I’ll never forget the excitement in his eyes. I ran off the track and jumped into him so hard I almost knocked him over.
And maybe that’s why Saturday night hit me harder than I ever expected it to.
Because almost 20 years later, I got to stand there with my family beside me and watch another athlete step into that exact same moment. Truthfully, I still feel like a kid inside sometimes, so seeing it first hand.. life really sets in.
Seeing the coach point toward me after the race and pump his arms from the infield is a feeling I’ll never forget.
What’s wild is before the race even started, I looked at the heat lineup and got that feeling. I looked at my kids and said: “This is it.. I think this is the night the record gets broken.”
Something about it just felt right.
The atmosphere. The competition. The hunger. The pressure. The setup.
It was like the perfect storm.
And then that final stretch came.
When Alex came around that final bend, you could physically see the wall hit him. If you’ve ever been in a physically competitive sport, you know exactly what I mean. That moment where every part of your body is begging you to stop, your limbs are heavy, but your heart keeps fighting anyway.
And before anything else.. before nostalgia, before pride, all that came out of me was what I know I would have wanted to hear.
“GO GET IT!!!”
And I screamed it so loud my voice still feels a little raw.
Not because I wanted to be the loudest.
But because deep down, I knew what that moment felt like.
I knew what hearing people scream for you could do. I knew there was still another gear hiding in there somewhere. I knew what it felt like to be inches away from something you’ve poured your soul into.
And honestly, I like to think that, that battle cry, that cheer from the crowd, that atmosphere around him helped accomplish what happened there. Because .07 seconds is less than the blink of an eye.
That tiny amount of time was the difference between making history and almost making history.
That’s how close greatness can be.
Steve Prefontaine once said: “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.”
And Saturday night, under those lights, I watched a young man empty every ounce of himself chasing greatness.
How could I not scream for him?
That’s why this is bigger than a sport to me.
Because not many people spend almost 20 years holding onto a record, then create a scholarship challenging somebody else to come take it from them.
That was always the point.
The was never about just breaking a record.
It was about building something bigger than myself.
Something that would challenge another athlete to ask: “Why not me?”
Because records are meant to be broken.
That’s not the sad part.
That’s the celebration.
And somehow, by God’s timing, almost 20 years later, only two years into starting this scholarship, I got to stand there with my family beside me and watch the torch get passed in real time.
All of us cheering it on.
Past and present met under those stadium lights Saturday night.
And maybe that’s the part I’m still emotional about..
Back then, I thought God gave me that record because I worked my butt off for it.
I never imagined He gave it to me so one day I could stand beside my children, scream “GO GET IT” with tears of excitement and adrenaline in my eyes, and watch somebody else turn it into something even greater.
And standing there Saturday night, somewhere between hearing the crowd roar, seeing that final push, and watching the torch finally get passed..
I finally understood why God gave it to me 🩷
And that, is one of the most beautiful full-circle moments of my life. It truly felt like I shook hands with my younger self.
And, the very same day this record finally fell, I was also putting the finishing touches on the bathroom of one of our biggest remodel jobs.
The downstairs bathroom tile job was finally finished. Shower caulked. Cleaned up. Ready for use.
And sitting here, after watching the record fall, seeing just how much my life has always revolved around the same thing:
Building.
Building a future. Building a family. Building a business. Building young athletes up. Building purpose through hard work. Building something meaningful enough to outlive you.
And standing there watching all of it unfold, I think my younger self finally realized something else too.. the race was never just building a runner and beating a record.
God was building the man I would someday become.
A father. A business owner. A believer. A man still trying every day to build something meaningful in this world.
And maybe that’s why it felt so natural to congratulate somebody for breaking my record.
Because seeing this tradition come alive meant more to me than holding onto a time ever could.
Proud doesn’t even begin to explain what I feel today.
Congratulations Alex, truly. You earned every hundredth of that 1:59.43 brother ❤️
And for all my track peeps...
Yes 🫤
Somewhere in the emotional handshake/bro-hug after the race... I accidentally stepped on his foot 🤦God always finds humerus ways to keep us humble 😅
God is so good ❤️
