Pushing Limits: Cody’s 311-Mile Run

Earlier this year, 31-year-old trainer and ultra-runner Cody Taggart took on one of the most grueling underground races in the world. No official route. No aid stations. No spectators. Just 300+ miles of open desert stretching from Los Angeles to Las Vegas — and a personal mission that was bigger than the race itself.

In 2025, 42 solo runners toed the line. Eight didn’t finish. Cody crossed it in 17th place, after 135 hours and 28 minutes, covering a brutal 311 miles. Alongside the solo athletes, 81 relay teams also took part, each facing their own battles against the heat, fatigue, and endless desert expanse.

But for Cody, this wasn’t just a race. It was a journey of rebuilding — physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

What Motivated You to Sign Up for This Event?

The project had been in the back of my mind for a while. After crewing a relay team last year, I couldn’t shake the thought: Could I run this by myself? 

When the opportunity came up this year, I knew I had to go for it. After a tough year filled with transition, grief, and a lot of self-reflection, I needed something to pour myself into. This race became a symbol of rebuilding—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It also gave me a chance to continue raising awareness and funds for mental health through NAMI. Over the past few years, I’ve raised more than $30,000 for the cause, and I wanted this project to carry that mission forward.

When I first started ultra-running, it came from a place of wanting to prove something to others—to earn respect and acceptance. But over the years, my relationship with running has shifted. Now, I run for different reasons. I run because I can—I don’t take that for granted. I run for self-discovery—every challenge teaches me something new about myself. I run for community—to share these experiences with the people who matter most and to meet others along the way. And most importantly, I run to send a message of hope. The 320-pound version of me who tried to take his own life never thought he’d be capable of something like this. I want to be a reminder to anyone in that dark place that life can get better.

What Did Your Training Look Like Leading Up to the Run?

Most weeks, I was running between 70–110 miles. My training included long solo efforts, back-to-back runs, and plenty of recovery walks. 

I kept up with strength training twice per week to stay strong and injury-free. It was definitely a challenge balancing work, training, and showing up in the relationships in my life—but it was a chapter I’ll always be proud of.

How Did You Balance Running and Recovery?

In peak weeks, I’d get up around 5am on the weekends to knock out my long runs early. Long runs would be anywhere from 20-40 miles usually back-to-back on Saturday and Sunday. I’m grateful to be part of an incredible run community here in Nashville—The Exchange Running Collective—which helped keep training fun and kept me motivated.

My recovery routine focused on getting quality sleep, regular contrast therapy sessions at Lolu (a contrast therapy studio here in Nashville), staying hydrated, and eating well. After a few years of ultra-running, I’ve built a solid relationship with my body and have learned to recognize when I need to rest and when I can push. On days I felt run down, I’d opt for longer walks to still get time on my feet without adding too much stress.

What Was Your Lowest Moment Out There—and What Pulled You Through?

As you can imagine, there were some pretty low-lows out there. Two moments stand out the most.

The first came around mile 180. My feet were wrecked, both Achilles were on fire, and my knees were screaming. I started crying while I was running—just fully overwhelmed and unsure if I could keep going. When I got back to the RV, I pulled out a stack of letters my friends and family had written me for moments like this. I read a few of them, had a good cry, a much-needed laugh, and found my why again.

The next low point hit around mile 260 on Powerline Road. If you’ve run it, you know—it’s 27 miles of absolutely unforgiving terrain. My body was breaking down again and my mind started spiraling. My crew carried me through that section, literally and emotionally. They walked, ran, and distracted me from the self-pity that was starting to creep in. Without them, I wouldn’t have made it through.

What Kind of Encouragement Helped the Most?

Honestly, all of it. Every interaction I had with other runners and crew members out there. The texts from family and friends. The surprise FaceTimes. The encouragement from my crew. The letters people wrote me that I pulled out when I was struggling. Even the little things—like a stranger handing me a cold Coke in the middle of the desert—meant the world.

Yes, it was a solo race, but this is the least alone I’ve ever felt during one. I felt so much love from my community before, during, and after the race. That support carried me when my legs couldn’t.

Looking Back—What Would You do Differently in Your Prep, Gear, or Mindset?

First off, I’d get ahead of my chafing. Every runner knows that once it starts, it’s game over for comfort. There are definitely a bunch of little things I’d probably tweak—organizing my gear better so I had less to think about, fine-tuning my fueling and hydration strategy a bit more, things like that. But when you sign up for a race like this, things are going to go wrong no matter what. I like to say, “I’m never ready, but always prepared.” That mindset served me well. And honestly, I think my crew and I did a great job with what we had. We stayed adaptable, problem-solved in real time, and kept moving.

How Did Your Gear Help You Through the Extremes?

GOREWEAR was clutch. The CONCURVE Windbreaker and Drive WINDSTOPPER®  jacket were lifesavers during those freezing desert nights. During the day, the CONCURVE running shorts stayed dry and light—huge when you're logging 60+ miles in 90-degree heat. The Everyday Tech Tees were perfect for sun protection and breathability. Everything held up to the chaos of the desert and kept me moving comfortably through every mile.

Tell Us About Your Crew and the People You Met Along the Way.

My crew was made up of six of the most incredible people I know. My girlfriend Aliya was our crew captain—she kept everything organized, made the hard calls, and somehow stayed grounded through the chaos. Her birthday actually happened during the race, so we threw her a little makeshift party in the middle of the desert. My friends Charles, Noelle, and Noah—amazing runners and even better humans—helped pace me, drove through the night, kept me fed, lifted my spirits, and kept things moving. Ray and Kore documented the entire journey, telling the story beautifully while also somehow making me look way cooler than I felt.

I also met some incredible people during the race—every other solo runner and their crew. You end up out there with total strangers who feel like family by mile 100. No one cares what you do, who you love, or how fast you are. You’re just all in it together—tired, broken, laughing, moving. And for a few days, it feels like how life should feel.

What Did This Challenge Teach You About Yourself?

This race taught me that I’m not as alone as I sometimes feel. That leaning on others isn’t weakness—it’s necessary. I used to think I had to prove everything on my own, but this journey reminded me how powerful it is to let people in and allow them to support you. My crew, my community, the strangers cheering from afar—they all carried me through.

It also reminded me that grit isn’t always loud or flashy. Sometimes it’s slow, quiet, and invisible. It’s walking when you want to lay down. It’s laughing when you’re falling apart. It’s choosing to keep going when no one’s watching.

More than anything, this race reinforced how far I’ve come. From a 320-pound version of me who once believed he didn’t deserve to be here, to someone who can run 300+ miles through the desert with purpose. That transformation doesn’t happen overnight—but it’s possible. And I want others to know that, too.

How Does This Compare to Other Running Experiences You’ve Had?

Nothing comes close. This wasn’t just a race—it was a full-on life experience. It pushed me physically, yes, but it was also one of the most emotional and spiritual things I’ve ever done. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so supported, and so alive all at once.

This challenge left a mark on me that I’ll carry forever. I think I’ll be unpacking what it meant for a long time.

Would You Do It Again?

When I crossed the finish line, it was a hard no. I was wrecked—physically, mentally, emotionally. But as the weeks have gone on, I’ve found myself missing the desert. The simplicity of it, the purpose, the people. Never say never, I guess.

Follow Cody here