Shred Letter No. 2.

Same three things: a member spotlight, a story, and something from the heart. No fluff.

This week we sat down in the Pain Cave with one of the most disciplined humans any of us know. Let’s get into it.

Steven comes from a military family — before his dad traded the base for a United cockpit.

But before any of that, there was the asthma. Severe enough that the experts told his parents he’d never play sports. Severe enough that they packed up and moved him from Vacaville to the coast — just so the ocean air could keep him breathing.

That could’ve been the whole story: a sick kid, sidelined. Instead it became the opposite. Steven didn’t listen to the experts — he bet on himself. With a work ethic and a mental fortitude most people never find, he turned the body that was supposed to hold him back into a weapon.

La Costa Canyon. Three sports until lacrosse took over — West Coast Player of the Year, three-time All-American, four years starting at Penn State.

But the number that matters isn’t on a stat sheet. It’s a time: 4am.

His dad was home five days a month, and the way they bonded was training — Dad on the track before dawn, watching every sprint. Steven was in middle school. It never stopped. He still wakes at 4 every morning.

Freshman year: a 1.6 GPA and a counselor who told him — in front of his crying mother — that he’d never get into a four-year school. He came back senior year with a 3.4 and an acceptance letter.

Tell Steven he can’t, and he’s got one answer: watch.

Last week, Steven ran 100 miles in a single day — up the coast, San Diego to LA, dirtbag-ultra style — alongside Cole Mueller, another Shred OG and the closest thing we’ve got to a Terminator. He went in with an injured hamstring. Barely trained.

Somewhere past mile 45, at 2am, he hit what he called the darkest place he’s ever been. Before he even started, twenty people had texted the same question: why are you punishing yourself?

His answer was honest in a way most of us aren’t:

Here’s the thing about Steven: pulling out was never on the table. It’s just not in him. Hamstring screaming, eyes rolling, 60 miles deep — quitting doesn’t exist in his wiring. He’d rather die trying than not try at all.

And he’ll be the first to tell you that’s the edge he’s starting to examine as he matures. The discipline is a gift. But the question underneath it — can I love myself when I’m not chasing the next impossible thing? — is one he’s still sitting with. Hold that thought. It matters for Thursday.

Ask anyone at Shred about Steven and the first word is the same: leader. He’s the glue — the guy who pulls the crew together, sets the standard, and makes everyone around him want to be better. Not by talking. By being the first one there and the last one to quit. When Steven shows up, the whole room levels up. Every real crew has one. Ours is him.

Off the road, he’s the guy who shows up with flowers — he literally brought Bridget flowers. Gracious, appreciative, present. He looks at the dads in this group, the family lives they’ve built and the way they love their people, and he doesn’t envy it — he respects it. He wants it one day.

And he bets on himself off the street, too. Steven is the founder of The Redline Project — 24 of the best athletes and creators under one incredible roof for four days: competitions, challenges, teamwork, camaraderie, all built off the spirit of Saturday Shred. September 29 – October 3.

Here’s where it goes full circle.

Steven has the outward part wired — 4am, prove them wrong, 100 miles on a torn hamstring. The pushing, the punishing, the race: it’s how he — how a lot of us — reach for the feeling of being alive, of having finally attained something.

This Thursday I’m bringing in Jules Horn, and here’s why. Jules teaches one thing: the Kingdom of Heaven is within you. That feeling we’re chasing at mile 80 on a dark highway — the aliveness, the peace, the proof that we’re enough — it’s already in us. We just can’t hear it over the noise.

You get access to it by quieting the mind enough to find stillness. By reconnecting to yourself. And finally giving yourself the one thing you’ve always craved — and always chased on the outside: unconditional love.

I’m not trying to change anyone. We’re all here because we push hard. Jules is the counterweight — the reminder that everything we chase out there, we might already have in here.

Start where you are. A street, a few good people, and a Saturday is enough.

Tag @thesaturdayshred when you show up. We’ll find you.

P.S. First 20 replies get Thursday with Jules. After that it’s a wait list. Don’t think about it too long.