9/11 Memorial Race: Pushing Limits, Facing Challenges, and Finishing Strong

The 9/11 Memorial Race pushed me to my limits, challenged my mindset, and proved that finishing strong matters more than crossing the line first.

The Jackson Township Fire Department’s 9/11 Memorial Race in Brown County, Indiana, wasn’t just another run for me. It was a battlefield, not against anyone else, but against the version of myself that used to make excuses, stayed in his comfort zone, and refused to take on challenges because they were unfamiliar or uncomfortable. That version of me is dead. Buried and replaced by a man who chooses discipline over comfort every single day.

I’ve been running for years, but until today, I had never signed up for an organized race. Maybe I thought I didn’t need it. Maybe I told myself that running was a solo mission, done in the silence of early mornings, with only my demons to chase down. But life has a way of showing you where you need to grow. So, when I committed to running a half marathon in November, I knew I needed to start somewhere. And the 9/11 Memorial Race felt like the perfect test.

There were two options: a 5k and a 9.11k—because if you’re going to honor something as massive as 9/11, you don’t do it halfway. You go all in. I chose the longer course without hesitation. It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone else. It was about pushing the limits—mentally, physically, emotionally.

I knew this wasn’t like my usual runs from the second my feet hit the pavement. There was an energy in the air, an unspoken weight that came from knowing why we were all there. This wasn’t just about running—it was about remembering. Every step was a reminder of the lives lost, the heroes who ran toward danger, and the weight of history that still lingers 23 years later.

And for the first time, I wasn’t just running against myself.

I was leading.

I settled into my pace and found myself at the front of the 9/11 Memorial Race pack. It felt right—like every mile I’d ever logged alone had led up to this moment. I wasn’t just moving forward. I was in control.

Then, about halfway through, something changed.

A runner crept up behind me. He stayed just a few steps back, matching my stride and breathing steadily. We didn’t say a word. We were just two runners locked in, pushing forward in silence.

Then, he made his move. He pulled ahead, found another gear, and took off. I couldn’t quite match his pace. I watched him gain distance and cross the finish line before me. He had beaten me.

And then I found out the truth.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in my race.

The guy had accidentally taken a wrong turn. He was a 5k runner who ended up running the full 9.11k by mistake. But because he crossed the finish line first, he technically took the top spot.

Now, I’ll be honest with you. That stung—just a little. Not because I needed a title but because I put in the work. I ran the right race. I earned that first-place finish. And yet, due to a twist of fate, my name won’t be on the top of the results.

But here’s the thing—this was never about winning.

I wouldn’t be here if I were in this for the validation. I didn’t lace up my shoes to chase trophies. I didn’t sign up for the 9/11 Memorial Race to get my name on a leaderboard. I did this because I needed to step outside my comfort zone. I needed to put myself in an environment where things aren’t predictable, I don’t control all the variables, and anything can happen.

And something did.

Today, I learned that organized racing is a completely different beast. Running alone means setting your own pace, controlling your breathing, and adjusting your rhythm whenever you want. But racing means adapting, being ready for the unexpected, learning from the experience, and coming back stronger.

That’s exactly what I plan to do.

I’m walking away from this with something far more valuable than a first-place title. I showed up. I pushed myself. I learned what it feels like to compete. And most importantly—I finished.

That’s what matters. That’s what every race is about. That’s what recovery is about. That’s what life is about.

Winning is great. But showing up, grinding it out, and crossing that finish line—that’s the real victory.

I’ll see you at the next one.

Stay disciplined. Stay resilient. Live with PRIDE.

Jim Lunsford

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