Why I'm Walking Away: Withdrawing from All Future Spartan Races

If you’re new here, you might know that last year I sustained a major injury during my November 2nd Spartan Beast. This was my fourth Spartan race of the year, having completed my first Spartan Beast back in March 2024.

What many don't know is the raw, emotional catalyst that threw me onto that course in the first place, or how that single fall changed my entire life and career.

The Beginning: A Response to Abuse and the Start of My Ego

The reason I started Spartan races was rooted in a difficult relationship. My last partner was emotionally and verbally abusive, constantly striving to push me down and make me feel less than, always looking for things they were better at than me.

My Spartan journey began after being told, point-blank, "they aren't your thing, you’re not tough enough for them." If you know me, nothing inspires me more than being told I can’t do something.

I didn't just do my first Spartan while still with this person—I did it faster than they had ever done the same distance and obstacles. Then, on March 30th, 2024, just 33 days after the traumatic end of that relationship, I completed my first Spartan Beast, solo, with next to no training. I raced not for a partner, but to prove I was enough. Over that summer, I completed my first Trifecta and signed up for three more races at the end of the year.

The Fall: When External Validation Caused Internal Collapse

November 2nd came, and I had trained HARD, running 14–17 miles on the weekend and strength training. I was physically ready, but I still wasn't trained mentally. I showed up feeling like I still had something to prove, ready to dominate. My ego was front and center.

Seven minutes into a race that was supposed to take me around four hours, I fell off the 6ft wall of obstacle 1, sustaining an almost complete tear of my right ACL.

I immediately couldn't walk. I tried everything to mentally convince myself I could shake it off. I tried to run five steps before a flood of tears brought the acceptance of defeat.

This injury happened because I was cocky, careless, and didn’t respect my body. I flew over that wall with my mental middle finger in the air, and life knocked me on my ass. My fitness has changed forever. I sustained a strain to my MCL, bone bruising, a near-full tear of my ACL, fractured cartilage, and a persistent cyst. I chose to forgo surgery, hoping to build the muscles around my knee enough to live without a full ACL.

Beyond the Finish Line: My Evolution as a Person and Professional

The decision to withdraw from the Spartan Beast wasn't just about saving my knee; it was a surrender of the ego that had driven me to that wall in the first place. My entire Spartan journey, while initially a source of fierce personal vindication, was rooted in external validation. I was running to prove my abuser wrong, not to serve my own health or happiness.

The Shift in Personal Worth

My biggest personal growth wasn't measured in miles or obstacles, but in my ability to recognize and reject that old, toxic programming. The injury forced me into an excruciatingly slow process of redefining my worth.

Before, my identity was wrapped up in being the person who was "tough enough." Now, my strength is found in vulnerability and self-respect. I’ve learned that saying "no" to a challenge that threatens my well-being is infinitely stronger than pushing through pain to earn a meaningless medal. That old need to prove myself to someone else is gone, replaced by a quiet confidence that needs no applause. I have had the last year to prove so many things to myself.

A New Fitness Philosophy

As a fitness professional, this experience has completely reshaped my coaching philosophy. I used to push the "go hard or go home" narrative, celebrating grit above all else. Now, my mantra is "Respect over Reaction."

My injury taught me that pushing through pain isn't tough; it's often arrogant. True toughness is listening to your body, understanding its limits, and programming with longevity in mind. I now coach my clients not just on performance, but on mindful movement, self-advocacy, and humility—lessons I learned the hardest way possible. I know what it means to face a physical setback and the mental battle that comes with it. This empathy is now my greatest professional asset, allowing me to guide clients toward fitness that supports their lives, not just their egos.

The Final Step: Choosing Respect Over "Redemption"

Spartan races deferred my injury entries to 2025. As the year went on, races came and went, and I accepted my body just wasn’t ready. I held onto my last race entry for November 8th—the chance to redo the Spartan Beast in the same location where I got injured. I had believed it could be my redemption race.

But this week, I made the hard decision to walk away from that race entry.

I respect my body now, where it is, and how hard I’ve had to work to be able to even run three miles without pain. To put myself in the position to potentially fully tear my ACL is simply not worth it, no matter what my ego says.

So, if you see the Spartan headband hanging on the squat rack when taking classes, I have it there as a reminder: to respect and honor my body, to thank it daily for what it's overcome in healing, and to check myself when my ego gets loud.

I don’t need to prove anything to anyone, and neither do you.