Revisiting the Bataan Memorial Death March 2025

By: Jeff "Golden Pinky" Florence

"According to Plan" is Overrated

Two years ago, my Bataan experience was a solo mission, executed with military precision. Drove down, knocked out the marathon in 5 hours and 48 minutes, and was back home before you could say " blisters." Everything was mapped, every detail controlled. Zero room for surprises.

This year? Totally different story. I decided to bring my family along, transforming it from a solitary goal into a shared adventure. Suddenly, my race was just one piece of a much bigger, more unpredictable puzzle.

We squeezed in some classic Southwest weirdness – Santa Fe's famous (and famously baffling) Miraculous Staircase, the wonderfully quirky Recycled Roadrunner in Las Cruces, and even three National Parks in a four-day stretch. The real challenge for me, though, wasn't the sightseeing mileage. It was shifting gears from setting my own agenda to being a more flexible part of the team and following the family agenda. I had to loosen my grip on control and just... see what happened. And let me tell you, "what happened" was a delightful level of chaos.

My unofficial mantra for the week became: "Just roll with the 💩 show." Because clearly, life wasn't interested in sticking to my perfectly color-coded itinerary, so I might as well find the humor in it.

Brotherhood in Action

The first big test of my "embrace the mess" strategy came before I even made it to the event. My internal clock was already ticking – I needed to be in line at White Sands Missile Range by 4:30 AM. Problem? My family would be checking out of the hotel while I was at Bataan and the idea of hanging around without a car for eight hours waiting for me after the march wasn't exactly sparking joy.

Feeling a little stuck on logistics, I did something that doesn't always come naturally: I reached out for help. Threw a message into the F3 Nation's Slack channel, not really expecting much. Maybe a virtual pat on the back? Instead, I got a lightning-fast reply from Eagle.

Eagle, an F3 brother I'd never met, happened to be with the F3 Albuquerque crew who were also heading to Bataan. His message was pure gold: "We're camping out at White Sands Missile Range. Hop in with us – we'll get you there."

Camping? Definitely not in the meticulously planned solo Bataan itinerary from two years ago. But after a moment of thought, something about the offer felt genuinely right. And honestly, turning down that kind of immediate, no-questions-asked help just felt wrong. Okay, decision made. I'm camping.

Now, camping required gear I didn't have. So, mid-trip, we made a detour to Walmart. My contribution to the overnight setup? A shiny, brand-new, definitely-just-one-person-sized tent. Seemed simple enough at the time.

The day before the race unfolded with the family – including a trip to White Sands National Park itself. Don't get me wrong, hiking and sledding down those beautiful dunes with my family was incredible, but internally, I was battling a little voice screaming, "Are you serious?! We're hiking in the desert the day before a marathon ruck?!" Add to that the sheer distance between White Sands National Park, Las Cruces (where my race gear and dinner plans were), and then back to the Missile Range... things were getting complicated fast.

It was getting late, and I still didn't have my race packet. This meant another dose of that uncomfortable feeling. I reached out to Eagle again: "Hey man, would there be any way your crew could potentially pick up my packet? I'm not sure I'll make it before packet pickup closes, and I don't even know if they'll let me on the base after hours without it..." Asking for more help, putting another burden on guys I hadn't even met face-to-face yet? Yeah, that was a tough send button to hit. But true to form, Eagle and the crew didn't hesitate. "Got it. No problem."

After the sun had completely set, we finally made it back to the White Sands Missile Range gate. A moment of truth – would they let me on? Thankfully, the guard waved me through without a second glance. Relief washed over me.

I linked up with Eagle and his F3 Albuquerque brothers at their camp spot. These men, who moments before were complete strangers, welcomed me like family. They had my packet, helped me wrestle my tiny tent into submission (seriously, it was small), and made sure I had everything squared away. Accepting their generosity? Man, that felt incredibly good. It’s a humbling thing, that kind of instant, no-strings-attached brotherhood showing up exactly when you need it most.

From Chaos to Clarity

The evening melted away exactly as you'd hope – swapping stories and laughs under a huge, star-filled desert sky. Just being around that calm confidence and solid brotherhood was a massive help in quieting those pre-race jitters that had been building all day.

Then came the brutal early morning alarm. Time to face the march. The atmosphere at Bataan is truly something else – walking towards that massive American flag with the dawn breaking over the mountains, thousands of people gathered, this electric hum of shared purpose in the air. When the cannons boomed at 0700, we stepped off. That familiar mix of anticipation, nerves, and a healthy dose of "what did I sign up for?" kicked in.

For the first mile, I walked with Eagle and his F3 crew. Sharing those opening steps, feeling the quiet strength of that F3 bond as the reality of the march set in – it was a powerful start. But as the course opened up, the path naturally spread out. The F3 Albuquerque guys had their pace and their mission; I needed to find mine. We exchanged quick goodbyes and solid fist-bumps, and I continued on alone... heading straight for the first taste of the infamous sand pits.

Inside the Struggle

The march started well. My pace felt solid, things were clicking. This year’s course threw a curveball, though – instead of the legendary uphill mountain grind, we had two loops featuring some truly demoralizing sand pits. Sand usually isn't my nemesis, but these felt different. It was like trying to walk through molasses, sucking the energy and the joy right out of me. And the cramping? Showed up way earlier than I'd hoped.

Staying hydrated felt like a full-time job. I thought I was doing okay, but my legs started telling a different story. Trudging through that first sandy loop, the doubts started whispering: Am I really prepared for this? Can I actually finish? Every step in the sand felt like I was sinking a little deeper, both physically and mentally.

By the second loop, my energy was definitely flagging. Pushing through the sand again was a mental and physical battle. My legs felt heavy, my brain felt fuzzy, and the thought of just stopping popped into my head more than once. Those final 6 miles were a pure test of willpower. Just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Keeping that sense of purpose.

I crossed the finish line in 5 hours and 58 minutes. Not my fastest Bataan, but I finished. I showed up, embraced the mess, and did the hard thing. And yeah, it was absolutely worth it.

More Than Just a Finish Line

One of the main reasons I wanted to make this Bataan a family affair was for them to actually see me finish. As I turned into that final stretch, pouring whatever I had left into a sort of desperate "ruck shuffle," I was scanning the crowd frantically, looking for familiar faces. Didn't see them. I pushed across the timing mat, relieved it was over, but with a tiny pang of disappointment.

Then, maybe two minutes later, my phone buzzed. A text from my wife: "We're right here at the finish line!"

Turning around and seeing them there, right in front of me, in the middle of all that post-race exhaustion and emotion... man, it was a lot to take in. Hugging my family after conquering 26.2 miles of physical and mental battle, completely drained, letting them see exactly what that kind of effort looks like plastered all over my sweat-soaked, sand-dusted body... doing it with them in mind... yeah, it hit me hard. It was incredibly emotional. I just kept telling them how much it meant that they'd come all this way and were standing there waiting for me.

We shared a precious few minutes in that space, soaking it in. But kids are kids, and after a bit, they were ready for the next adventure. So, with legs that felt like lead, we began the (what felt like miles) trudge back to the car. A quick change out of the soaked gear, and guess where we went? Right back to White Sands National Park.

Back to the dunes. Back to the sand. While the kids immediately grabbed their sleds and took off down a big hill, I started slowly hiking up the slope towards them. When I finally reached the top, I didn't stand there taking in the view. I just... collapsed. Laying there flat on my back in the oddly cool, soft sand, utterly spent. But instead of feeling defeated, I felt this wave of profound peace wash over me. Happy in myself, happy in that moment, surrounded by my family, enjoying the simple, beautiful purpose behind why I push myself, why I move. It was the perfect, messy, imperfect ending to the day.

The story didn't quite end there, though. A few weeks after we got back home, a package arrived in the mail. It was from Eagle. Inside were two custom F3 Bataan Death March patches – one for 2025 (the year I just finished) and one for 2023 (my first Bataan). Plus, an F3 Albuquerque sticker.

Once again, I was genuinely blown away by the depth and generosity of the F3 brotherhood. Here's a guy I met for maybe 12 hours total, who helped me out big time, and then goes the extra mile (literally, via mail) with such a thoughtful gesture. It solidified a feeling I had that night camping under the stars: this isn't just a one-off meeting. This feels like the start of a beautiful, cross-state friendship between F3 Austin and F3 Albuquerque. That connection, forged in shared purpose and unexpected help, is what it's all about.

Your Challenge: The Call to Move with Your Purpose

You’ve walked with me through the beautiful mess of Bataan – the unexpected turns, the raw grit, the profound moments of brotherhood, and the quiet power of finding purpose even when collapsed in the sand.

But this isn't just a story to read and forget. It's a mirror. It's an invitation. What did you see of yourself in the struggle, the asking, the push? Your path might look completely different, but the underlying challenges? They connect us all.

So, let’s bring this home. Answer these three calls to action – honestly, bravely:

These questions aren't just prompts. They're keys. Use them. And if you feel called to share what you uncover – your Bataan, the corner man you reached out to, the step you took – we want to hear about it. I invite you to share your answers with us. Join our True North Ruck & Fitness Community on Discord, comment below, or even reach out to me directly to discuss how you’re moving with purpose. Let’s rise together.