The Stupid Bet That Changed My Life

This summer was one of the wildest of my life.

I have the privilege of spending weekday mornings with some of my favorite people, Justin and Shauna on the Z99 Morning Show. And sometimes between the stories and the laughs, we come with zainy ideas. That's what happened this spring when Justin and Shauna bet me that I couldn't finish the full marathon at the QCM. If you know me, it's this kind of doubt that in years past I've used to fuel me into achieving a goal.

Never in a million years did I imagine myself crossing the finish line at the Queen City Marathon—let alone finishing the full 42.2 kilometers. But somehow, and against all odds that’s exactly what happened.

And the truth is, I didn’t get there alone. I owe a debt of gratitude to so many people—not only for their belief in me, but for their willingness to invest their time in what began as a half-baked idea on the Z99 Morning Show. Chief among them was my running Coach Laura Sullivan. She heard me talking about this harebrained idea of running a full marathon with 3.5 months training and decided to get a hold of me. When she first reached out, she wasn’t impressed by my ambition. She was concerned. She knew I was going to hurt myself, potentially for the long term. But instead of stepping back, she stepped in, offering to guide me. That single moment of generosity changed everything.

From there, the next three and a half months became a crash course in what it actually takes to prepare for a marathon. I thought it was just about running longer distances. But no—here’s a partial list of the true curriculum:

• Chiropractic adjustments.
• Physiotherapy sessions.
• Ice baths at ungodly hours.
• Gel packs by the box.
• Multiple pairs of running shoes
• Compression socks that squeezed the doubt out of me.
• A diet stripped of beer and ice cream.
• Weekends surrendered to long runs.
• KT Tape across everything that bends
• Pro Glide to avoid any form of chaffing
• And so on...

This was the reality of training: unglamorous, relentless, sometimes absurd. And yet, somehow, this dad went from the couch to a full marathon in three and a half months (two and a half, if you don't count the month I lost to injury). On paper, it shouldn’t have worked. In practice, it did—because stubbornness has a way of filling the gaps that logic leaves open.

But more than stubbornness, it was belief. My coach, my family, my friends, and the insane Regina running community. They loaned me their optimism and support when my own account was running fearfully low. Every encouraging word, every message, every cheer along the way stacked up like invisible miles in the bank.

Without trying to sound too over-the-top, this journey changed the course of my life. It taught me, finally, to stop avoiding the hard thing. It gave me a window into what greatness really demands: thousands of hidden repetitions, the kind no one sees. And it offered me a new realization—that the invitation is open.

Because the finish line isn’t exclusive. It isn’t reserved for elites. It’s there for anyone willing to be a little bit crazy, stubborn, and committed. Cross it once, and you discover the truth: the hard thing isn’t just possible—it’s transformative.

And maybe best of all? You realize it was never actually about the race or the silly bet, it was always about the journey.