Quitting Looks Like the New York City Skyline: My Journey of Running, Resilience, and Teamwork
Questions:
Who in your life has been a source of encouragement when you felt like giving up?
What strategies have helped you push through moments of doubt?
How can you support someone else who may be going through their own “Queensborough Bridge moment”?
When have you faced a moment where quitting felt like the only option? What pulled you through?
How do you define resilience in your own life?
“If you can't fly then run, if you can't run then walk, if you can't walk then crawl, but whatever you do you have to keep moving forward.”
-Martin Luther King Jr.
Quitting and Comeback: The Journey of Running, Resilience, and Teamwork
It’s early November 2022, and just like any other typical day in New York City, it was full of honking traffic, that unmistakable city skyline, the smell of hotdogs and gyros—plus, on this occasion, 50,000 marathon runners tackling the challenging route that only New York can offer. As helicopters filled the sky for added security, I wondered if any could have zoomed in and seen the grown man fighting back tears as he looked out over the water from the Queensborough Bridge, contemplating quitting.
What does quitting look like? For me, it looks like the skyline of New York City from the Queensborough Bridge and tastes like chicken. I can still smell the water, feel the cool November air cutting through my sweat-soaked shirt, and remember the sun reflecting off the towering buildings of downtown Manhattan. I remember the weight of failure pressing down on me, as it was just another confirmation in a series of failures culminating at this moment, while the little devil inside whispered in my ear: You can't do it. Who do you think you are? You aren’t good enough. You will never be.
The Hard Pavement
My journey to that bridge was paved with setbacks. Like so many in the world, the COVID pandemic had thrown my professional life into chaos. Just the year prior, the company I had given twelve-plus years of my life to went in a direction I’ll never quite understand. I was an executive coach and senior leader within one of the largest coaching companies ever built—one I was proud to represent. Then, in a move reminiscent of Steve Jobs being ousted from Apple, the leadership fired the person most responsible for building the company. Overnight, the foundation cracked. She had given me an opportunity and my life wouldn't be what it is today without her. She wrote a program that went nationwide and I was invited to audition for the opportunity to teach this program. When I was first hired in 2009 it was at a week-long conference where I had to show up and audition on my own dime. To make the trip and apply for this new opportunity, I’d actually had to borrow money for the trip and further borrowed another $100 for food as we were barely making ends meet at the time. In the city of New Orleans there is a Popeyes chicken on the main street that I still resent and am grateful for simultaneously. Every day during that conference, I ate at Popeyes for three meals a day on the borrowed $100. That is where my journey began. One day the CEO of the coaching company sat me down and shared that she had no time for those people who aren’t willing to do whatever is required to succeed. That conversation changed my outlook on what succeeding requires, doing whatever it takes. Over the years I worked towards becoming the best version of myself and eventually became one of the most senior coaches the company had and I considered myself within the CEO’s inner-circle. Sadly after her termination and changes to leadership, the company became an elite hierarchy of self-interest. New Leadership focused on consolidation rather than sustainability, firing those with clients and absorbing their books of business. The culture turned cannibalistic almost overnight. Those at the top did what you’d expect most self-interested individuals in leadership to do: they protected themselves. Layoffs and firings began. Many of the casualties were truly good people—people who had believed in the mission. Then, one day during a leadership meeting, I allowed my emotions to get the best of me. The company had a mural at its headquarters, showcasing the leaders who had built the business from its inception. Their images had been painted over in all black with only a slogan remaining in white letters #Onward. It struck me to my core. A company that touted Legacy in its mission statement had erased the very fingerprints of those who should have had one.
That day was different. When my leader and mentor was fired, I didn't speak. Further, one day we shared a contentious phone call about how I failed to stand up for her. She wasn’t wrong and at the same time she didn’t move on and create a new company or a place to go so should I have stood up for her, it would have been like standing up and volunteering at a firing line while the shooters adjust their aim towards me. While not speaking up was the best thing for my family and arguable the smarter move, it never set well with me and I carried the guilt that I failed to defend the person most responsible for my career success. This day, however was different and I this day enough was enough so I spoke out. “My greatest fear is that I will devote my life towards a company that could just as easily treat me the same way its treated so many. The company says Legacy in its mission and now those who build the company have their images erased and pained over. Now that is either extremely ironic or horrible f_cking decorating!” My words echoed through the stunned silence. I had invested twelve years of my life into this company, and it only took one sentence to erase me. I was fired. Technically I was demoted as all my leadership responsibilities were removed and I was ‘allowed’ to remain with the company. In short, my career was over as eventually I’d have my legacy erased too. Rather than allow that to happen, less than a year later, I quit. It’s hard to describe the emotions that go through your mind when you are a husband and father of three young kids as you send your letter of resignation. Just like that I walked away from a company years earlier I’d had to borrow money to audition for, eating fried chicken three meals a day, to eventually being an executive and now trading it for $954.88, my first month’s income after moving to a startup company and beginning again. In reflection, it's difficult to see how much what someone does for a living can become blurred with who they are as a person.
Facing Defeat
My professional identity was shattered. After losing my leadership role, I went through what I can only describe as a midlife crisis. I raged against the world vowing that no one would control me ever again and that no matter what, I’d earn enough income to support my family. Enter, one of the stupidest decisions ever made. “Let’s open a bar,” is probably the only thing that could top, “Let’s buy a food truck!” This food truck business I had started in an attempt to pivot failed almost as fast as it began…In the words of Gomer Pyle, Surprise, Surprise, Surprise! Then, as I was putting my career back in place, starting fresh with a new company, my family and I made another drastic move. We sold everything we owned and moved. We moved full-time to Florida and similar to the journey that started Forrest Gump’s cross-country adventure, ‘I just felt like running.’ Prior to that move, at 46 years young, my longest distance was about 4.5 miles. Running a few miles a week turned into a few miles a day. Eventually my distance increased to 10 then 15 miles. When my coach asked why I was running, I didn't really have a good answer. He asked what's something I’ve always wanted to complete with running and I responded by running a marathon. I knew people who had finished marathons and I’d even considered tackling the challenge myself yet never quite pulled the trigger. In April 2022, the day I’d waited for arrived. This moment was a personal opportunity for redemption. I attempted my first marathon in Nashville—and didn’t finish. A DNF. Another failure. How did it happen? I’ve had to make peace with the fact that I’ll never know. The reasons for that DNF are still unclear, but the feeling of not finishing had lingered like an open wound.
And yet, despite all that, I had laced up my shoes for the 2022 New York City Marathon. My second attempt at conquering 26.2 miles. But as I stood on that bridge, looking down at the water, the thought of quitting wrapped around me like a fog.
Anyone who has attempted a marathon—or any daunting challenge—knows that quitting doesn’t happen in an instant. It creeps in stages:
Doubt and Overwhelm – “I don’t think I can do this.” The first wave of negative thoughts starts creeping in. The first wave hits early. “Am I really prepared for this? The pace feels harder than it should. The miles ahead seem impossible.” The challenge at hand begins to feel insurmountable. In life, this may look like chronic stress, loss of hope, or feeling incapable of overcoming obstacles.
Excuses, Withdrawal, and Isolation – “Maybe I didn’t train enough. Maybe I didn’t eat the right things. Maybe my body just isn’t built for this. “I don’t want to talk about it.” The person starts pulling away from their support system, avoiding conversations, and feeling disconnected. In running, this might mean skipping training runs. In life, it may manifest as pulling away from loved ones or work.
Exhaustion, Rationalization, and Apathy – “Plenty of great runners have dropped out of races. Maybe it just isn’t my day. It doesn’t even matter anymore.” The mental, emotional, and physical drain becomes overwhelming. Motivation disappears, and feelings of helplessness set in. In mental health struggles, this is often where people stop engaging in the things they once loved.
Rationalization of Quitting – “I’ve tried, and it’s just not going to work.” The idea of quitting becomes a logical solution. The pain of continuing seems greater than the perceived relief of stopping. In suicidal ideation, this could be a moment of convincing oneself that others would be better off without them.
Decision Point: Giving Up or Reaching Out – “Do I stop here, or do I keep going?” This is the turning point. In running, it might mean dropping out of a race or pushing through a tough moment. In life, it can mean reaching out for help—or sinking further into despair.
Every experienced marathon runner knows not to start too fast and to pace themselves. I had something to prove in this moment so screw the rules I am going to beat this course. Further, there were a few of my old team members and colleagues from my previous company that were also running this race. Needless to say, I had them all on my Marathon app and was tracking their performance as I had every intention to leave them in my past behind me as for me they represented a symbol of all I’d lost and the pain the past few years represented. And now, here I was on the Queensborough Bridge, all alone staring down at the water, the weight of everything crushing me. The temptation to quit was overwhelming. Between starting out too fast and not being conditioned properly for this race combined with built up resentment, anger, and something to prove to people who had no idea any of this was even occurring, all culminated together and it hit me at the same time. Some call this moment hitting the wall, nope. The wall fell on me. My inner thoughts said, Just stop. Quit…
The Revelation: The Power of Others
Then the most unexpected thing happened. Those same people I had once worked with—former colleagues, people I’d once considered friends, from the very company that had let me go—were there, yelling my name and cheering me on. The irony was thick and choking. I had resented this chapter of my past, yet here they were, offering nothing but encouragement. “Come run with us!” I lied straight through my welling tears, and exclaimed “I was just taking a selfie from the bridge.”
Their voices cut through my soul, “You’ve got this.” “Keep going.” “One step at a time.” It’s not an easy thing to admit what it’s like experiencing shifting from anger then resignation to ultimate humility and ultimately shame. Here are these amazing people standing in-front of me while inviting me to accompany them on their own journey. They came from kindness. I felt so ashamed. Only minutes earlier, my own self-centeredness and resentment made them a target to defeat as a representative of what I’d created to be the villain in my story. I had harbored resentment toward this chapter of my past, and yet, here they were, offering nothing but encouragement. They reminded me why I had started this journey in the first place.
Their words cut through my self-doubt, through my frustration, through my exhaustion. They didn’t let me quit. They walked with me. They reminded me that the battle wasn’t just against the road—it was against the version of myself that had once believed quitting was an option.
It was the reminder I needed. Resilience isn’t about pretending things aren’t hard—it’s about finding a way to take another step, even when everything inside you says stop.
“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”
— Viktor Frankl
The Return: Finding Purpose
I took another step. And then another. And another.
I finished the marathon that day in just over 5 hours and 34 minutes. And when I crossed the finish line, I wasn’t just leaving the race behind—I was leaving behind resentment, doubt, and the fear of failing again. I cried and even hugged my friend and former coach who was still with my old company. When Forrest Gump stopped running after two years in the classic movie he said “You got to put the past behind you before you can move on.”
Running has since become an outlet of control in a chaotic world. No one succeeds alone. Special thanks to my friends Dan, Jen, and Craig for being there that day on the bridge. I thought running was an individual sport, but in reality, it took a team to get me across the finish line. The very people I thought I didn’t need became the ones who helped me the most. The lesson became clear: resilience isn’t built in the easy miles. It’s built when everything in you says stop, but you find a way to take another step. In running, in business, in life—we all hit that Queensborough Bridge moment.
It always seems impossible until it’s done." – Nelson Mandela
Since finishing the NYC Marathon I’ve gone on to run the Abbott World 6
New York City
London
Tokyo
Berlin
Boston
Chicago
In 2025 I will be part of the first class in the hall of fame to ever finish the Official 7th Star in Sydney and this blog is being submitted to Runner’s World.
As I finish this blog post for what I expect to eventually become a chapter in my first book, another ironic moment arrives. Today the official 2025 TCS NYC Marathon registration begins and I officially entered my 4th NYC Marathon.
