Running Toward Redemption

BEFORE RUNNING

Even though Champ’s story begins with loss, it is sustained by the steady presence of people who refused to let his past determine his future.

“My dad is the unsung hero of my story,” Champ says. “Along with both my grandparents, who had a really big hand in raising me.”

His father, a fry cook at Green’s Sausage House, worked long hours but provided stability in a life that could have easily spiraled. His mom’s parents, whom he affectionately calls Grammy and Paw, were also pillars of love and comfort in his life.

“I have a very old soul because of that,” he says. “I feel like my grandparents just instilled a lot of wisdom and things in me.”

But even that foundation came with hardship. Champ’s family carried deep generational trauma from addiction, loss and mental health struggles that touched nearly every branch of his family tree.

“I saw things as a young kid that I wouldn’t wish on anybody my age at that time.”

Still, there was something unusual about Champ. As an average student at Academy High School, he knew it was up to him to break the cycle, and he felt a deep determination to do things differently.

“I’m not really gifted in anything,” he says. “I just work hard.”

FINDING HIS “WHY”

For a long time, Champ didn’t fully understand why he kept pushing forward. He just knew he had to.

College wasn’t a given. No one in his family had gone before him, money was tight and his path felt uncertain at best.

So, he started classes at Temple College in the mornings, then spent his afternoons and evenings working at Al’s Barbecue Barn in Temple. Around 7 p.m., he’d head to his grandmother’s to mow the lawn or whatever needed to be done before driving home to finally get in some studying.

“I didn’t experience the typical college life,” he says. “But I wouldn’t change anything that’s happened to me in my story.”

While at Temple College, a math professor, Dr. Franke Gracia, took him under his wing, helping him navigate academics. It was one of many moments when Champ began to sense something deeper at work.

“I wouldn’t be where I am without certain people that God puts in my path.”

Wanting to stay close to his grandmother, after Temple College, Champ transferred to UMHB to finish his degree.

“The biggest thing that UMHB ever did for me was to develop my ‘why,’” he says. “And made me realize I had one all along.”

That “why” would become the foundation for everything that followed.

RUNNING FOR A REASON

Ironically, Champ wasn’t always a runner. In high school, he was a powerlifter and helped coach the girls’ powerlifting team. But during his time at UMHB, something changed when he took a running class for his exercise and sport sci­ence degree.

What began as a class require­ment became more than just an exercise. It turned into a calling and Champ discovered his refuge in running long distance races.

“It’s how I put on the armor of Christ every day,” he says. “It’s my quiet time with God, and it’s how I control those demons that I’ve picked up over the years from my traumas.”

The more he ran, the farther he wanted to go, and the more he liked pushing his mind and body past what most people would consider reasonable.

Today, Champ has completed 66 Spartan races, 8 ASCO Sparta­cus dashes, and 10 grueling ul­tra-distance marathons that stretch beyond 100 miles.

But for him, the miles aren’t the point. Champ says running has never been about the medals or recognition, but that each step is a reminder of how far he’s come and who he’s become along the way. Those miles carry the weight of his past, the strength of his present and the hope he’s building for his wife, Ashley ’13, and two daughters.

“I truly don’t think that you can ever outrun your demons, but you’ve got to be able to battle with them, and God’s given me that through running.”

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR

In 2017, Josh wrote a letter to himself. But the way he tells it, the words didn’t come from him alone.

“It was very much an ‘aha moment,’ like a revelation from God,” he says.

In the letter, he wrote, “I was with you through every step of your life… every time you got knocked down or were going through something, I was there.”

The letter became something more than a reflection. It was confirmation.

For years, Josh had pushed forward without fully understanding why. He was just working, enduring and carrying responsibility well beyond his age. But in putting those words on paper, he began to see a thread woven through every hardship, every loss, every moment that didn’t make sense at the time.

Throughout the letter, there is a steady reassurance of God’s presence in the middle of pain: “I see your tears, I hear your prayers.”

And in some of the most difficult seasons of his life – his grandfather’s illness and death, his mother’s absence, the weight of responsibility – he began to understand those moments not as God’s way of preparing him.

“I have prepared you to take care of your grandmother,” the letter reads, pointing back to the role Champ had stepped into as a teenager.

But perhaps the lines that have stayed with him most are:

“Your greatest test is when you are able to bless someone else while you are going through your own storm. Though I have not given you a miracle, I am going to make you a miracle for someone else.”

That idea reframed everything in his mind and showed his pain had purpose. It gave meaning to the miles he runs, the students he mentors and the story he now shares. The letter didn’t erase what he had been through. It just helped him see it differently.

Today, he keeps that letter alongside his workout journal, which he titled Overcoming this Obstacle Called Life. They both serve as reminders of where he’s been and the truth he holds onto.

“God’s got a reason for everything,” he says. “And I wouldn’t change a single hardship that I’ve gone through in my life, because I wouldn’t be who I am today without those hardships.”

BREAKING THE CYCLE

Even though he understands it now, the trauma he experienced as a child still lingers in subtle ways, resurfacing in unexpected moments.

Like the night he and his wife, Ashley ’13, wanted to go on a dinner date, and they dropped their young daughter off at the grandparents’ house for a sleepover.

As they walked away, she was laughing and playing on the swing set. But the second they rounded the corner of the house, he heard her screaming, and she began running back to him with arms outstretched.

In that instant, Champ reverted to that 10-year-old boy standing in the driveway, watching his own mother drive away.

“I instantly went back to that day watching my mom leave,” he says. “And I knew that emotion. And I knew I never want my daughter to have that feeling.”

“Ultimately, those feelings don’t go away,” he said. “But they don’t have to be generational curses.”

RECOVERY AND REDEMPTION

One of the most powerful chapters of Champ’s story is one he never could have predicted.

His mother, who had lived a life of homelessness and addiction on the streets, chose to get sober.

Over time, through effort, faith and a desire to change, she rebuilt her life.

“At age 50, my mom turned her life around,” he says. “She started going to church, and she stopped doing hard drugs. And from there, she’s done nothing but phenomenal things. I’m so proud of her.”

Today, she is present, not just in Champ’s life, but in the lives of his daughters.

“They will only know you as Granny,” he told her. “And I am so thankful for that.”

But perhaps the most profound moment of healing came not in a conversation, but in one of Champ’s ultramarathons.

At the Snowdrop ULTRA, runners circle a short loop for up to 55 hours, pushing themselves to their limits while raising money for childhood cancer patients.

At the 100-mile mark, there’s a tradition of ringing the bell, which symbolizes the end of cancer treatment or memorializes a loved one who died of cancer.

For Champ, the race already carried deep meaning. His aunt Cherie Lou — his mom’s sister — had died of cancer at age four, a loss that had shaped his family for decades.

That race took place about 12 years after his mom turned her life around, and she traveled all the way from Washington to Houston to watch him run. When Champ reached 100 miles, he proudly gave his mom the moment and asked her to ring the bell in memory of Cherie Lou.

In that instant, after decades of pain, distance and brokenness, Champ said he felt something shift.

Healing.

“If you were to ask me if you have to suffer for your mom to get closure, would you do it?” Champ says. “Yeah, every time.”

A LIFE STORY

And so, Champ keeps running mile after mile. Not for medals or recognition, but because each step is a reminder of how far he’s come and who he’s become along the way. Those miles carry the weight of his past, the strength of his present and the hope he’s building for his future and his daughters.

“I truly don’t think that you can ever outrun your demons, but you’ve got to be able to battle with them, and God’s given me that through running.”