It was a Plano Pacers summer race — one of those hot 5Ks — and I edged him out. We went back and forth at a couple of those, trading age-group placings. But then came Matt Campbell’s “1776,” a one-mile race on Friday, July 4th, 2025. I was out front almost the whole way, feeling good, leading the thing — and in the last 200 meters Neil came by me like I was standing still. I remember thinking, “Damn. Who is this guy?”
Turns out, “this guy” was a 52-year-old who was once the worst player on his high school tennis team.
LISTEN ON:
LISTEN ON:
This week’s episode is one of my favorites, because Neil’s story isn’t about talent. It’s about the long game — and what’s possible when you stop quitting.
The false start
Neil grew up in the Denver suburbs, more into skiing and racquetball than anything competitive. In grad school at the University of Chicago in the late ‘90s, he found a Hal Higdon plan on the internet, went straight in with no base and beat-up tennis shoes, and did exactly what you’d expect: ran until his knee gave out, walked all the way home, healed up, went back out, got hurt again. His conclusion? “I’ve learned my lesson. I’m not a runner.”
That was it for over a decade.
The wake-up call
At 40, the kids were old enough that he had a little time back. He’d put on ten pounds without trying. And in the back of his mind was his dad — a quadruple bypass at 38, dead of a heart attack at 55, never got to meet his grandkids. Neil decided to nip it in the bud.
So he started. Three nights a week, half an hour, run-walk. And here’s the part I love: he hated it. He didn’t enjoy it. But it was convenient and he felt better, so he kept going — for years before he’d ever have called himself a runner.
Then the pandemic hit, he switched to morning runs, and something clicked. The energy, the mental health boost. That was the turn.
The grind that actually worked
Neil’s first marathon was Dallas 2022. He went out hoping to break four hours and his IT band detonated at mile 17. He walked the last four miles and crossed in 4:53, swearing he’d never run another.
What changed everything wasn’t a secret. It was the boring stuff, done consistently:
A conversation with Anil at a taco joint about how marathons are eating contests as much as running contests — and finally dialing in nutrition.
Javier putting him onto the Pfitzinger books, and learning why you don’t overrun your tempo runs.
The mileage. 950 miles in 2023. 1,450 in 2024. 1,960 in 2025.
Training partners like Adam Watson, and Saturday mornings with the White Rock Running Co-op.
The results came fast. A 40-minute marathon PR at Tucson (just under 3:30). A 1:30:56 half at Cowtown. And then, in Oklahoma City, running on a hot day and holding on for dear life over the last 10K — 3:16:24. A Boston Qualifier with a three-and-a-half-minute cushion, at 52 years old.
(Will the cushion be enough for 2027? We’re… pretty sure it won’t. But he’s signed up for CIM in December, and I wouldn’t bet against him.)
The part that stuck with me
What Neil kept coming back to wasn’t the times. It was the people. The joy of cheering on someone else’s PR. The 168 seconds of silence before Oklahoma City. The encouraging words from the Jennifer Popes and Matt Campbells of our community. His line for anyone intimidated by group runs:
The unfriendly runners are staying home. The ones who show up are kind.
If you started late, or you think your fastest days are behind you, give this one a listen. Neil is living proof they might be ahead of you.
🎧 Listen now on YouTube, Spotify, and Apple — and if you see Neil out at White Rock on a Saturday, say hi.
Keep it up, Chris
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