Different Miles.
Same Station.
Same Source.

I was diagnosed with stage IV cancer. The radical surgery that followed changed my life in ways I could never have imagined. I found myself questioning everything while learning how to do things I had once taken for granted, including talking and eating.

Recovery wasn’t one big breakthrough. It was slow steps. Opening my Bible. Going to church. Getting connected with people who would pray with me and for me. Those steps radically changed the direction of my life.

Some of the things I was told I wouldn’t be able to do didn’t turn out to be the end of my story. God continued to open doors, and as a pastor, I’ve been able to use the very pain and trials I walked through to encourage others.

During recovery, I signed up for a demanding endurance event. Along the course were aid stations where people offered hydration, food, supplies, and encouragement. I didn’t finish that event, but I never forgot how much those stations meant when I was struggling.

I also couldn’t shake a thought: What if an aid station cared for more than the body? What if prayer and the presence of Jesus were part of the experience, too?

For my next three endurance events, I intentionally built my crew around that idea. Alongside the practical support, I had people praying, speaking encouragement, and helping me push through the limits of my body and mind. It made all the difference.

That’s when the vision became clearer. What if we could create a Holy Aid Station not only at endurance events, but also in our communities, partnering with local churches to offer a place where people could encounter Jesus, find strength, and continue their journey?

A car accident left me with injuries that changed my life. I had been physically active. The gym, lifting heavy. Suddenly I was rethinking what being active would even look like. Doctors told me I would need surgery.

But God had other plans. Slowly, my body began to heal in ways that weren’t expected. What was supposed to be the next hard chapter became a doorway into something new.

A friend introduced me to running. My first race was a 50-mile ultra. No shorter warm-up, nothing to work up to. On that course, I ran further than a marathon for the first time in my life. That day changed me.

Running gave me a way to move within my new limits. But it became more than exercise. Sometimes I listen to Scripture or sermons while I’m on the trail. Sometimes I talk to God. Other times, I listen to nothing at all, just the sound of my feet hitting the ground. It’s a place where I can clear my mind, spend time with Jesus, and simply be present.

I grew up in a Dominican household where religion was always around, but for a long time it felt forced. Faith felt like something being handed to me, not something I chose. As an adult, I’d tried to reconnect on separate occasions. It never stuck.

Then I met a pastor. Through work. Through friendship. Before I even knew he was training to be a pastor. For over two years, he never mentioned God or church to me. Not once. When faith finally came up, it came up because I asked. What I saw in him, the way he talked about his family, his own story, the peace behind his life, that’s what began to draw me back.

“Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself.”

That’s what happened. I watched. And I started slowly looking into Scripture again. I started praying, awkwardly at first. Every time I brought him a problem, his first response was: pray. It felt strange. But I tried. And I kept trying.

Now I pray without even realizing I’m doing it. It’s more like talking to a friend. My family and I got baptized together. I still can’t fully explain the feeling. Emotions flow just remembering it.

And then there’s the running community. The encouragement, the connection, the way people show up for one another. It reminds me of the feeling I get at church.

That’s what I love about Holy Aid Station. It brings those two worlds together: the community and encouragement found in endurance, and the faith and hope found in Jesus.

There was a time in my life when I was running hard in the wrong direction. Addiction had taken me places I never intended to go. In 2013, I reached the end of myself and surrendered my life to Jesus Christ. He met me with grace, began rebuilding my life, and gave me a purpose far greater than simply getting sober.

Endurance events had been a big part of my younger years, but eventually that chapter faded away. Years later, after my son came through cancer surgery, he asked me to join him for 29029, an endurance event where participants repeatedly climb a mountain until they’ve accumulated the elevation of Mount Everest.

For us, it became about much more than reaching 29,029 feet. It was an opportunity to celebrate what God had done and carry that story onto the mountain. We wore hoodies with a Christian message, talked openly about God’s blessings, encouraged other athletes, and shared our faith along the way.

That experience helped me recognize something: I didn’t have to separate endurance from ministry. Wherever God placed me, even exhausted on the side of a mountain, I could encourage someone, listen to their story, share mine, and point them toward Jesus. I could be a Holy Aid Station right there on the course.