One day. One race. One hundred miles.

In six months, I will lace up my shoes to run the Kettle Moraine 100. If I can train my body to conquer the distance, then I can train my head to better manage depression.

I used to believe my broken pieces or rough edges were my definition. The all-consuming nature of depression had me thinking the condition was all I was, not a part of who I am. Training for the Kettle 100 is a way of clawing out of the victim’s mentality and finding beauty in the struggle. A sign on my wall reads, “No one is coming. Now, get to work.” The message being you are your saving grace, if you’re willing to go the distance.

I’m not a professional athlete. I’m not an expert. I’m just a guy who wants to get better, push some limits and help people along the way. The workout load may be daunting but isn’t complicated: Get stronger every day in mind and body.

Join me on this journey — let’s create a life worth living. Let’s take ownership of our stories. A bit of progress each day makes the difference.

You can follow every step of the journey to 100 miles— yes, it’s a lot of steps. There will be good training days and bad training days, as is life. I’ll share both because real life isn’t always meant to make sense through a square photo with a filter.

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Along the way, I’ll highlight some of the most pressing social issues, which intersect with my life as a runner. Together, we will identify social problems, as well as solutions. More on that later, but first…

Why the Kettle Moraine 100?

Several months ago, I completed the Yonkers Marathon. The weeks after lacked a sense of direction. There was not the same kind of intention to my training and eating as before.

When I began searching for another race, the notion of going beyond a marathon kept returning. Go farther, said the little voice in my head.

Runner and writer Ed Ayres captures this feeling in his book,“The Longest Race”: “For a long-distance runner, the end of the race is when you pause for rest before beginning a long and patient preparation for the next race and that sense of rebirth it will bring.”

For me, running is freedom. While moving, I explore the world around me, as well as the world inside. These internal looks aren’t always pretty. I’m forced to accept shortcomings — the people I let down, the opportunities I failed to take and the love I refused to accept. Yet, physically moving from one place to another allows me to push beyond negative thoughts. Each step is a step toward accepting who I am and releasing who I’m not.

“There are clubs you can’t belong to, neighborhoods you can’t live in, schools you can’t get into, but the roads are always open.” — Nike

When I learned my native state of Wisconsin hosts an ultramarathon in June each year, I figured it was a sign. I read up on ultrarunning. The physical challenge of the race turned out to be less attractive than the mental aspect.

The battle in my brain would be the real challenge.

The real challenge of 100 miles

My running résumé includes too many 5Ks to count, a couple of halfs and a full marathon. A bit meager for 100 miles, right?

Running wisdom says anyone able to do a marathon can physically run 100 miles. The brain is the barrier. The mind signals the body to stop before muscles are actually exhausted.

Strengthening the brain to face self-doubt, to see the good in the surrounding world and reframe problems will help me push myself through the distance. The benefits of cognitive behavioral therapy — the intentional changing of thoughts or behaviors causing difficulties — will bleed into my daily life, too. In many ways, I need it. These past few months have been some of my most difficult in terms of depression.

In a letter to a friend, I wrote how moving to New York accentuates and quells my depression. A city packed with so many people can feel infinitely lonely. No matter what, your face is just another in a crowd. A long-time New Yorker joked to me that, if you feel like you’re one in a million, “in New York, there are seven other people just like you.”

Yet, this metropolis feels like home — not for its buildings stretching into the stars, or its decorated storefronts, but subtle moments colored by a sense of belonging. The moments when finding that elusive place — where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came — feels close.

In truth, these moments of meaning can be found every day, if we take the time to notice. I want to take the time to notice. Just as my running and strength plan will prepare my body for the Kettle 100, intentional training in mindfulness and gratitude will prepare my head.

Meditation and mindfulness training can help curb anxiety, depression and other mental illnesses. While I’m learning to better manage depression, I want to be more intentional with mental preparation. I will need a strong mind, as much as a strong body, to run 100 miles.

Author Jen A. Miller, in a New York Times article, describes how running helped her tackle one problem at a time. Running gave her life structure after her boyfriend left, she bought a house and her grandfather died.

“The hard work hurled me forward,” she writes. “Depression could follow me around like a sad little rain cloud, but it couldn’t rain on me if I kept moving.”

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, one in five adults experiences a mental illness. A quarter of people without a home and a quarter of those in prison have a serious mental illness. Depression is the leading cause of disability in the world.

These numbers, and their impacts, are staggering. There is a desperate need to address how our society views mental illness, as well as how we help ourselves and others experiencing the problem. This project is not the solution, it’s a solution among many.

My goal is to add to the conversation, to be one resource in changing the social stigma around mental illness. I’m going to keep moving forward — to make relentless daily progress toward a life of better health and one filled with more happiness and gratitude.

Each step a message

Ancient runners in Greece were messengers. They carried truths from city to city, spreading their message along the way.

In his book, “The Road to Sparta: Reliving the Ancient Battle and Epic Run That Inspired the World’s Greatest Footrace,” runner and author Dean Karnazes retraces the path of Pheidippides, who ran ran 153 miles from Athens to Sparta in 490 BCE to appeal for Sparta’s help in defending Athens from the Persian Empire.

Ancient messengers, such as Pheidippides, were a kind of journalist. They were messengers of social action. They ran with a purpose.

I’m a journalist. I’m a runner. This project is a way of recognizing and extending the work of our ancient ancestors. Training for the Kettle 100 is as much about self-empowerment as it is for the empowerment for others. My running will raise awareness about social injustice.

In the coming months, I will investigate pressing social needs whose existence overlap with my life as a runner and mental health advocate.

Millions of people use running as a solution to health problems. The exercise helps people lose weight, feel better about their bodies and improve their overall health. In a similar way, I will look for solutions to social injustice. Identifying what’s wrong is no longer enough. This project will provide avenues to support sustainable change around topics such as food security, personal safety and accessibility to mental health care.

Everything is public! And you can follow

The entire Kettle 100 training project is public. That’s downright terrifying to a quiet guy who prefers books to bars and parks to parties. But growth comes from being uncomfortable, right?

I’ll be sharing my running plan and strength training. I’ll be documenting the journey, as well as sharing resources, on Instagram, Twitter, tumblr and here, on Medium.

This project is public because I need your support. I need help amplifying this message. Help in photo, video, design and distribution would be fantastic.

More important, though, I want to hear your stories — how you are pushing yourself, the struggles that shaped you, the fights for improvement you continue to wage.

You don’t have to be in marathon shape to get better. You don’t have to be a runner. Push yourself. All this takes is a daily commitment to get stronger — mentally and physically stronger.

I’m nervous for the Kettle 100. I’m excited. I’m ready. Will you follow along?

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