He Hit Rock Bottom After Running 100 Marathons in 100 Days. Here’s How He Bounced Back.

BROOKS BASH WAS well into a run on a remote Texas road when everything clicked. His mom biked beside him and his wife jogged behind; his legs felt strong and his mind razor sharp. The 31-year-old was about halfway through completing the equivalent of 100 marathons in 100 days in a rebellious stunt to fundraise for his start-up. After weeks of running 26.2 miles daily, he’d found a rhythm that felt euphoric.

Things were about to get even better, too. One of the fundraising videos of him running (on a treadmill in the back of a van on the drive from Los Angeles to Texas, no less) had gone viral, and donations were pouring in. He always believed in what he was doing, but now others did, too. The high of everything aligning—his physical goals and fundraising objective—made him feel ready to conquer whatever came next.

That type of flow state is potent, but fleeting. A few weeks after completing his 100th consecutive marathon in March 2024, Bash crashed hard. For months, he struggled to get out of bed, adrift with brain fog and a pernicious sadness. He was confused why reaching this monumental athletic milestone left him feeling so empty.

Now 33, Bash has recovered from his lowest period—and his journey can be a helpful example for how anyone can go about navigating the mental trials that come with chasing a major fitness challenge. Whether you’re chasing a marathon PR, endurance goal, or even a 300-plus-pound bench press, when the work is over, your mind needs proper recovery time, too.

The Challenge

Bash, founder of a supplement company Earthy, conceived of his 100-marathon challenge in an attempt to put the pieces of his personal life and career together. “If I didn’t have to work, I would run around all day anyway,” he says of the decision to eschew traditional fundraising for a public endurance challenge. “This is what I feel the most alive doing.”

The reality of the endeavor was brutal at first, and he didn’t plan exactly how he would approach each day. “The first two weeks were super gnarly,” Bash says. “Everything hurt.” He typically split up each day’s miles, running in the morning on Santa Monica’s Strand, working all day, then finishing his total after sunset. “I would come home, and my wife would be on the couch watching Christmas movies, eating soup by herself, and I’d think, ‘I need to go run 12 more miles.’”

Eventually, his body adapted, and he laid out his plans more intentionally. Runs evolved into social events. Friends would join, or he’d take meetings while jogging. He tapped into LA’s abundant network of run clubs. “Everyone knew what I was doing, and they’d ask, ‘What mile is this?’” He became known as “the marathon guy.” Growing up as a military kid who regularly relocated, Bash’s only constant was sports—but he was always the new guy, arriving mid-season and riding the bench. Now, he was able to forge his own position. “Endurance stunts have finally given me a chance to show people what I’m made of,” he says. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m in the driver’s seat.”

This compulsion to prove himself likely explains why Bash initially never set an endpoint for his challenge. The primary motivation was always to get investors’ attention, but part of him just wanted to show how far he could go. Around day 93, close to his $100,000 fundraising goal, he decided marathon 100 would be a clean finale. Once he allowed himself to see the endpoint, his body rebelled. “I got super tired, my Achilles flared up, I was bored, I was over it,” Bash says. He limped the final miles of his last marathon.

Dr. Neil Dallaway, who studies mental fatigue in endurance exercise, says this phenomenon aligns with current theories about how our brains process fatigue. “Physiological changes happen when you realize you’re not going to win.” Bash’s only competition was himself, and the cost of continuing had started to outweigh the incentive. “The minute the motivation drops below the cost, you’ll disengage from the task,” Dallaway says.

Despite this, Bash ran a personal-best time at the Los Angeles Marathon a week after he ended the challenge. Two weeks after that, he took on the Speed Project, a punishing 320-mile route from Santa Monica to Las Vegas, as a solo runner. Twenty miles in, his knees couldn’t hold his body weight. “I had to sit and cry for a bit,” he admits. He finished the race in 6.5 days, hobbling through the desert feeling broken.

The Fall

Weeks after the Speed Project, Bash was inexplicably irritable during a Fourth of July camping trip with his wife Lauren, usually a beloved activity on his favorite holiday. Back home, he stared blankly at his computer screen, vision blurring, unable to focus. He couldn’t find the energy for anything, painful irony for the founder of an energy company. The self-criticism was relentless. “You’re such a loser: you got everything you wanted and now you can’t get out of bed,” he’d think.

Convinced the problem was physical, Bash underwent blood tests and visited his physical therapist for his painful knees and swollen ankles. He assumed once his physical injuries healed, his mental health would improve, too. But when the pain in his legs subsided, he still felt off. Having never experienced anything like this, he couldn’t recognize what was happening. His wife’s friend offered a simple explanation: depression.

According to Dr. Steven Gonzalez, CMPC, Assistant Athletics Director for Leadership and Performance at Dartmouth College, certain personality traits, like perfectionism and emotional sensitivity, can make some athletes more vulnerable to mental health crashes after competition—particularly those outside of mainstream team athletics, like endurance sports, who don’t have a professional support network. This phenomenon is well-documented in Olympians, who often experience “post-competition blues,” even with access to world-class physical therapists, doctors, athletic trainers, certified mental performance consultants, and psychologists.

“You see that happen when people chase these large goals and all of a sudden they do it,” Gonzalez explains. “And it was something that they initially thought was unthinkable, or there were a lot of doubters.” These people commit to grueling, often all-consuming goals, and the pursuit becomes so entwined with their identity that achieving their objective can feel disorienting. After reaching the pinnacle, there’s a moment of awe, but not long after, a cavernous question takes hold: Now what?

This can happen to anyone. When you put yourself through extreme physical and mental stress, whether for a half-marathon or a 50-mile ultra, depression can creep in and make it all too easy to question who you are and what the effort was for. Without proper prep and support, things can go south fast.

The Climb Back Out

Bash was “floating in space” before he identified his depression, but once he permitted himself to acknowledge it, the healing began. He immediately started therapy. “I see it as working with a coach,” he says. Bash’s therapist helped him realize that losing his community was part of his struggle. After months of being cheered on, the bleachers were empty.

He needed to rebuild his social network. He joined a hiking club, took a few workout classes, and spent time with his wife, who regularly reminded him that it was okay to not feel okay. Dr. Gonzalez notes this approach is a good one: “It’s really important to get back to things that bring you joy. For some, it’s spending time with family and loved ones.”

Today, Bash has returned to his baseline—and is planning his next goal: a self-constructed “triathlon” he’s calling “Catalina to Whitney.” He plans to swim from Catalina Island to the California coast, cycle to Mt. Whitney, and then run to the summit. His approach has changed fundamentally. For previous challenges, Bash didn’t approach them with a plan; he just showed up and relied on his baseline fitness. This time, he’s hired a coach to build a training routine and created a “come-down plan” with his therapist that includes pre-scheduled sessions and time off work.

Bash wants to help other endurance athletes, particularly men, understand and be ready for how they might feel after reaching big physical goals. “Women are starting to do a good job talking about mental health through endurance sports,” he says. “I don’t think men are at all. We need to talk about it more. There are tools that can help you as if you were doing an ice bath or the foam roller.”

How You Can Prepare to Avoid Mental Burnout

Lots of people who take on intense athletic endeavors only train their bodies. But a comprehensive approach can help to mitigate physical injuries and the psychological toll that can follow achievement. “You’ve got to think about what the plan looks like from a mental, physical, technical, and tactical perspective,” Gonzalez says.

According to Dallaway, one approach that could be especially useful for major undertakings like Bash’s could be brain endurance training (BET), a strategy particularly useful for athletes who can’t replicate the demanding conditions of their sport in training, like ultramarathoners and triathletes. With BET, you perform cognitive tasks like the Stroop Test during or immediately before or after training to create adaptations in the parts of your brain responsible for fatigue. “It makes exercise feel harder in the short term, but easier in the long run,” says Dallaway, who’s conducted several studies using the protocol. Tools like the app Soma can help you integrate BET into your routine.

Gonzalez’s approach is even simpler. He recommends building a plan around three components to pursue major goals: patience, hard work, and recovery. “I see a lot of people who are great at working hard, but they’re impatient and really bad at recovery,” he says. “Without those things, you’ll find yourself injured and struggling.” Recovery in this case includes self-reflection. Ask yourself: What did you learn? What would you do differently? Is this how you expected to feel? Why or why not? Permit yourself to step away from the activity and trust that your body will signal when it’s ready to engage again. Be kind to yourself.

Once you’re ready to get back out to your chosen pursuit, make sure you have a clear reason why. “A super strong anchor of why you’re doing it can get you through anything,” Bash says. But also remember, there’s more than one way to succeed. “Knowing when to walk away is also a sign of mental toughness,” says Gonzalez.

Bash doesn’t regret his 100-marathon challenge. He hit his business goals while finding a way to turn his passion into a profession. He also learned the valuable lesson that coming down from the proverbial mountain can be just as challenging—if not more—than the climb up.