The Ones Who Run With You

In 2021, I ran across the United States with Lucky Caminho — a ragged Brazilian street dog who once tailed me for 140 miles back in 2018. Somewhere between desert roads and frozen mornings, I realized something strange: this massive, mythic country of ours? It’s not that big. Not when you chew through it one step at a time.

We made it in 100 days. My legs were wrecked, but my mind was sharp. I’d never felt more alive.

But that journey came with a heavy goodbye. Lucky passed away in Farson, Wyoming — a small town 2,300 miles from our start, now etched deep into my heart. He left behind a legacy of boundless energy, love, and the kind of companionship that changes you forever.

I was spent. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t the end. It was just a warm-up.

Fast forward four months — January 2022 — and I’m back in Brazil, running the BR135 Ultramarathon. Somewhere along the course, another stray found me. Part Australian herder, all heart. I named him Foxy. I was dead set on bringing him home.

But fate had other plans.

The United States had just dropped a total ban on importing dogs. Foxy never made it out of Brazil. I was gutted.

When I got back home, though, Monica — my wife, my better half — had her own plan. She surprised me with an adopted dog. We named him Jax.

Jax isn’t built like Lucky.

He’s sleeker. Sharper. Prettier, even — wrapped in a coat the color of a Burberry bag, all tans and creams stitched with black.

He’s 22 kilos of muscle but carries a happy-go-lucky spirit that demands my full attention — or he’ll find his own way into trouble.

In my adult life, I’ve had three dogs:

Tux — a black lab mix I chose.

Lucky — a Brazilian street dog who chose me.

And now Jax — the dog Monica chose for me.

Tux and Lucky were naturals on the road, pounding out 50-mile days without complaint.

But could it happen with Jax — the dog I didn’t pick, but was given?

We started small. Short runs, slow miles, always careful. When he was young, I kept him close, cautious.

By January 2025, Jax joined me at the Brazil 135 Ultramarathon.

Day 1: 60 kilometers.

Day 2: 40 kilometers.

He crushed it — until I noticed a slight limp in his front paw. I pulled him both days before it could get worse.

Just like me, he needs to ramp carefully. Build patiently. Break through, not break down.

Jax is almost three years old now, entering the prime of his life.

And now, it’s time.

Time to see if we can tackle a continent together.