That’s me. Tail end of 2016. Overweight and extremely bitter at the world. I was four years into what would be an almost ten year career with a fast food chain. I had become a man that blamed all of my employees, my wife, my kids and anyone else that pissed me off each day, for every bad thing that happened to me.

I would spend nine to ten hours a day working in the restaurant, verbally abusing my employees for not meeting goals and expectations and wetting my vocal chords, caffeinating my body and broadening my waistline with one cup of sugary soda after another.

Home life wasn’t much better. I’d come home, beyond frustrated from work, and start snapping at my family. I would blame my wife nothing being how I wanted it to be and get mad at the kids because I deserved some time to myself, until they were forced to leave for my in-law’s, and then I’d dive head first into the mindless escape from reality that only video games could provide me. Shortly there after I almost pushed them all away forever. I made a lot of poor choices, and made life unbearable for all of us.

Fast forward almost 4 years and I’m halfway through a local obstacle course race. I’m tired, I’m covered in sweat, mud and rain and I’m staring down an obstacle that needs my mind sharp and my grip solid.

I reach up grab the holds and let my feet swing out into open air. My hands begin to move forward, one hand at a time, but my grip strength is gone and I drop back to the ground. I try again and again and I fall, again and again. Every attempt steals more and more of my strength, but I’m stubborn and refuse to give up. I step back up to the obstacle for what feels like the tenth time, but this time I hear a voice call out to me, “You got this baby!”

It’s my wife. Her words fill me with new hope and strength. I grab hold and proceed forward. The edges of the grips dig into my fingers and I feel them sliding off. I reach out for the last grip, my arms like lead, and I know when I let go with the other hand it’s all or nothing. I dig my nails into my hands as I hold for dear life swing out with my left hand and feel the cold metal of the bell at end before I hear it ring out my completion of the obstacle. I start running forward, eyes straight ahead but the world is blurry as I fight back the tears of love I feel for my wife and all of her support.

What happens in the rest of the race is inconsequential compared to that moment. So how did I go from the overweight, angry guy ready to give up on everything and everyone, to this guy running races with the support and love of a woman he didn’t deserve four years earlier?