David Goggins is a machine.
An absolute endurance beast.
Last year, he won the 48-hour Ultracentric, and his "base camp" was just a few yards from mine (I was running the 12-hour race). Every few laps, I noticed his wife rubbing a block of ice on one of his quads. I later learned that Goggins had torn a muscle, and he was using the ice to completely numb his thigh so he could continue to run.
Earlier this year, the dude won McNaughton, a 150 mile race, by nearly 3 hours.
Now, I hear he is going to parachute to the start of the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii this Saturday. The dude is the definition of hardcore.
But, hey, I'm no slouch, either. I got up at 3:45 a.m. this morning to get in a 20 mile run before work. So there, Goggins.*
*Mr. Goggins, if you happen to come across this post and read my concluding paragraph, I am expressly noting my self-deprecating sarcasm. Please do not crush me.