The long way round

London has been the talk of the town this week amongst running enthusiasts, with Sabastian Sawe and Yomif Kejelcha rewriting history with their record-breaking performances.

But we’ve got a special marathon story of our own, one that unfolded on home soil in a small country town. The prequel to this actually begins a few decades earlier, but more on that to come.

At the heart of this week’s edition is Alex; our incredible CEO at Mojo, loving dad and husband, dedicated runner, curious leader and all-round legend. We’ve had the privilege of not only working alongside Alex, but watching him train for months on end for the 2026 Ballarat Marathon. In the days leading up to the race, we were lucky enough to hear the story behind the story, and knew it was something we wanted to share with the Mojo community. 

Now, to get to know Alex is to know his lifelong love of numbers. For nearly 27 years he’s been obsessed with one particular number - 3, or more precisely, sub-3 - but this journey begins with a different number.

99. That’s what the scales showed in April 1999, a month before his 17th birthday. 

“It felt like nothing in my teenage years was going particularly well,” he recalls. “And it was in that moment that I decided to make a change. Little did I know what a rollercoaster journey I was about to go on, and that it would take me years, if not decades to start feeling comfortable in my own skin. But all journeys start somewhere. The next number on that journey was ‘1’. One kilometre. I put on my sneakers and ran around a few blocks. After what would have been 7 minutes, I was completely stuffed. I could barely catch my breath.”

Five months later, Alex had lost nearly 40 kilos, and without realising it, traded one painful relationship with his body for another. Running became about proving, punishing, pushing past all limits.

“It was negative energy that drove me to start training for my first marathon. But while I had the grit and determination, I didn’t apply any of the logical and analytical thinking that drew me to numbers in the first place. It was always all out or nothing.”

10 is the number of times he registered for a marathon without ever making it to the start line due to injury. Vienna 2000, Graz 2003, Edinburgh 2010, Berlin 2010, Lucerne 2012, Berlin 2012, Florence 2012, Canberra 2013, Melbourne 2017, Melbourne 2023. The sheer frustration and determination even led him to complete an Ironman triathlon in 2014 in which he finally completed his first marathon in 4 hours, 2 minutes and 40 seconds. But the sub-3 itch wouldn’t go away.

Fast forward to September 2025, and work pressure had been building for weeks, with nothing going to plan. It was T-minus 3 days to a major client kick-off, and uncertainty mixed with flu had shifted him into 100% fear state.

Crowey had a simple question to pose as they sat down for a crucial conversation:

“How many times does the word ‘Mojo’ come up in your ‘Who Am I?’ exercise?”

“Zero.”

“Mojo is what you do,” Crowey smiled. “It’s not who you are.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had a conversation like this, but for whatever reason, today was the day it would land differently, and eventually make its way into Alex’s running.

That distinction became the foundation of a new experiment.

What if I chase sub-3 but strip away the expectations?
What if instead of grit and grind, I try approaching this with curiosity and play?
What if I do the opposite of everything I’ve tried before?

Alex made a new contract with himself: never increase weekly volume by more than three kilometres, run every recovery session slowly regardless of who overtook him, and treat new information as a win even when the workout didn’t go to plan. He committed to celebrating a low heart rate, resisting the urge to push harder. He celebrated feeling the fittest and healthiest he’d ever been at 43.

He also got clear on who he was running for. His wife Kate, fifteen years of early mornings and unwavering support. His daughters, Marlowe and Grace. The Mojo team. His coach Sophie, who’d been trying to teach him to slow down all along. And the 16-year-old boy on the scales, who deserved to know it was all going to be okay.

By Ballarat race day on April 26th, Alex was ready. His new approach to training had brought a 3:45 Garmin prediction down to 2:59, and for 26 kilometres, he was on pace.

Then came the heat and the wind. Things so rarely go to plan, as any seasoned runner knows. By 33km, he was completely dehydrated and presented with the ultimate fork in the road: turn right, call it a day, and be back at the hotel within 1km, or continue left onto the seven kilometres around the lake and two more to the finish line.

Alex finally slowed to a walk… and turned left. His daughters were waiting up ahead with Kate, and he’d come too far to turn back now.

He walked the next five kilometres among thousands of others. Pacer groups drifting past, strangers cheering, encouraging, leaning on each other to make it through the ultimate pain cave. Around the 38km mark he found enough in the tank to start jogging again, just in time to find his girls near the 41km mark. Marlowe and Grace were ready to fall into stride and offer those extra high-fives to make it to the finish line.

As of today, Alex’s sub-3 dream is still very much alive. He’s already looking forward to his next race, and applying everything he’s learnt pre and post Ballarat.

For us, his example goes much further than 42.2 kilometres. It takes courage to go after something with everything you’ve got and still practise agency, acceptance and appreciation when the plan changes mid-stride. This is what it means to redefine success.

Breaking 2 hours, 3 hours, 4 hours, 5 hours, or crossing the finish line full stop. A dream is a dream — if you're going for it, you've already won.

Well done, A. We love to watch you play. 🙌

Own Your Story

What’s your version of sub-3? The dream you’re chasing, and the reason behind it. What is it about this dream that matters most to you? Can you want it and chase it down with all you’ve got, without needing it?

Head to page 13 of Where the Light Gets In to learn more.