At 31, I was diagnosed with a debilitating form of ulcerative colitis—severe pan-colitis, to be exact. It was purely stress-induced. My entire colon—every inch of the six feet—was covered in bleeding ulcers. Not one or two. The whole thing.
After a week-long stay in the hospital, the doctor told me I’d have to give up my career. That I could no longer build. That construction was out of the question.
I looked him in the eye and said, “That’s out of the question.”
Because I was born to build.
He said, “Then everything’s going to have to change.”
He told me that for most patients, he prescribes chemo-grade medication. But even then, it only works if the patient also removes stress from their life.
“If you’re not going to leave the stress behind,” he said, “then everything else has to change—your diet, your sleep, your exercise, your habits.”
I said OK. And I got to work.
I took real time off. My brothers picked up the slack at the business. I reworked my entire lifestyle. I sorted out my diet. And for whatever reason, I chose running—of all things—to build into my physical life. I figured all I needed was a pair of shorts and shoes – no membership, no drive to the gym or the pool, just open the door and go.
It started with walking. Then jogging. Then sprinting home to use the toilet.
Eventually I signed up for my first race: the Bull Canyon Run in Santa Maria. I showed up to 650 people of all shapes, sizes, and colors. What did they have in common? They were happy to be there. Fired up about fitness. Genuinely excited to run - I was hooked.
5Ks turned into 10Ks. Then a half marathon. And somewhere in those miles, something changed - the road became my meditation zone, my holy hour.
Eventually I left the pavement and hit the trails. That’s when everything really clicked. Time and space opened up between my ears—and life started to align.
Now, I’ve learned that if I have a race to train for, I stay steady. I stay accountable—not to a podium spot, but to the finish line. And to the three or four months of quiet, intentional training that lead me there.
That’s what keeps me sane.
That’s what makes me kinder to the people I love.
That’s what saved me.
There’s a lot more to this story. But for today, I’ll just say this:
Running saved my life. And 18 years later—it still is.
Joe
Formed to Serve – Your Story Belongs Here
FORMED TO SERVE: YOUR STORY BELONGS HERE
Real Stories. Real Pain. Real Formation.
The Formed to Serve series began with the story of one man—broken by pressure, rebuilt by grace. But it didn’t end there.
Within weeks of the book’s release, the ripple effect was undeniable. Messages poured in from firefighters, runners, teachers, veterans, moms, business owners, recovering alcoholics, nurses, police officers—even college kids and grandparents.Every one of them said the same thing: “This is my story, too.”
And now, we want to hear yours.
We’re collecting True stories of transformation—for the next wave of Formed to Serve books, events, and podcast projects. Whether you're on the trail, in the classroom, at the firehouse, or quietly rebuilding your life—if you've been broken and rebuilt, we want to know what happened.
This isn’t about performance.
It’s not about being perfect.
It’s about the moment you stopped pretending and started changing.
We’re especially looking for stories from:
- Runners, ultrarunners, and weekend warriors
- Firefighters, police, and military service members
- Teachers, nurses, and frontline caregivers
- Coaches, lifeguards, mentors, recovery leaders
- Moms, wives, and sisters who carried the burden
- Anyone who’s found purpose through adversity
Some stories will be featured in future Formed to Serve books. Others will be shared online, on podcasts, or used (with permission) in keynotes, retreats, and short films.
If you’ve got a story worth sharing, we promise to treat it with honor.
Because the world doesn’t need more noise.
It needs real witness.