Last week I shared my first experience with a GORUCK Basic. Once I got a taste of what these events were like, it became clear it was time to step up my game. Several of my F3 guys were signing up for the granddaddy of GORUCK events: The Bragg. And this year was special because it was the 10th Anniversary.

The Bragg consisted of three sequential events:

• The Heavy (24 hours)
• The Tough (12 hours)
• The Basic (6 hours)

One of my close friends and his wife were doing what’s known as the Bragg HTB, which is all three events back-to-back. For those just tuning in, the idea behind a GORUCK event is to give you a small taste of what soldiers experience during Special Forces selection. Calling it a challenge is an understatement.

I decided to push myself and signed up for the Bragg Tough. For months, I trained. I hit as many F3 workouts as possible. I went on extra‑long rucks. I practiced packing and unpacking my rucksack. But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared me for the mental challenge ahead.

On the drive down to Fort Bragg, I was anxious. The anticipation was intense. I had watched selection videos, read stories about the craziness of these events, but nothing can truly prepare you.

The event began at 10P and honestly, much of it is a blur. I remember checking in, but the moment that stuck with me was the very first “welcome,” often referred to as the shark attack. There were about 60 of us standing in a circle, rucks on, arms linked, doing lunges. As the cadres made their introductions, one of them stopped in front of me, noticed my knee wasn’t touching the ground, and yelled:

“You got a problem doing a proper lunge, sir?”
“No, sir!” I shouted back.

Another cadre immediately followed, got right in my face, and yelled, “I sure as hell hope you don’t die tonight!”
I remember thinking, Me too. I didn’t realize that was even on the table.

Next thing I knew, we were ushered into a field and told to remove our shoes and socks. Then, barefoot, rucks back on, we followed the cadres into the woods for what felt like a 3–4 mile ruck. We also rotated through “coupons”: 60-, 80-, and 120‑pound sandbags and sand‑filled medicine balls.

Later, we split into teams for various tasks. In one scenario, the cadres left us alone. At first, we worked hard, but as the night dragged on (around 3 a.m.) we started goofing off. Without warning, the cadres called us together and delivered the most brutal series of PT (physical torture) I’ve ever experienced. Someone even had a water hose and a garden sprayer, soaking everyone as part of the punishment.

The leadership lesson from that moment is one I will never forget:
DO NOT MISTAKE MY KINDNESS FOR WEAKNESS.

As dawn broke, we completed a few more physical challenges. Around 10 a.m., one of the cadres mentioned coffee and bagels were available. We all thought, Finally ! It’s over. We grabbed coffee and started reliving the craziness of the last 12 hours.

But I noticed some of the GORUCK veterans weren’t eating or drinking. When I asked why, one said, “This doesn’t feel right. Cadres are never this nice during an event.” And he was right.

One cadre called us into formation, patches in hand. I thought, See? We’re done. I even laughed to myself remembering the thoughts I had early on about quitting and hiding under my friend’s truck until sunrise.

But then the cadre shouted, “What would a GORUCK Bragg 10th Anniversary event be if we ended right now? Chuy, get in here!”

And just like that, we were off to complete the old Army Physical Fitness Test:

• AMRAP push-ups in 2 minutes
• AMRAP sit-ups in 2 minutes
• A 2‑mile run as fast as possible

All after 12 hours of the Bragg Tough.

We wrapped up with some self-defense training, and finally, finally, we earned that well‑deserved patch and an ice‑cold beer. A GORUCK tradition.

People often ask if I’d do an event at that level again. Probably not. It checked a box for me. I’ve never been so mentally challenged or wanted to quit something so badly. But I didn’t. I stayed with it.

And as David Goggins says, it’s one more thing I can add to my cookie jar.