Athens, Before the Screening

The Afternoon Before

I'm sitting in Athens right now, and tonight they're going to play my film outside at Paloma Park. It's a bar. People will be drinking, the sun will go down, and on a screen in the dark, Luccketta's story will play.

I've seen it a hundred times. I probably don't need to see it again. But I've never seen it with a room full of strangers.

That's the part I can't stop thinking about.

This is my first film festival. I've never been placed directly next to my peers before, not in person. Not like this. I've made things, I've put them out into the world, but I've never sat in a chair and thought, "Okay, that guy made a film, and that guy made a film, and now here's mine."

It's a different feeling. It makes you honest in a way you're not always ready for.

The film is The Lionhearts. It's about a guy named Luccketta who lost his best friend to suicide and turned to obstacle course racing to process the grief. Savage Race, Spartan, Tough Mudder. The whole OCR community.

Eventually, he turned that process outward.

He founded Lionhearts Fitness, a nonprofit gym where he works with kids on the connection between physical and emotional health. They offer free fitness courses where kids build strength and confidence while learning how to navigate obstacles on the course and, hopefully, the ones waiting for them outside of it.

We shot the film in Atlanta, Alabama, Northwest Georgia, and around Chattanooga. It's a heavy story. It's also a hopeful one.

But sitting here this afternoon, I'm not really thinking about the film.

I'm thinking about tonight.

Sunny

Opening night I didn't talk to many people. I was tired. I felt out of place. Mostly, I stood around trying to look like I belonged somewhere.

Sunny is a volunteer and journalism student. She was the welcoming party and we chatted about philosophy and her career aspirations. I'm also always looking for people willing volunteer or to do paid writing spots for the Heritage Center, and so it was a nice networking opportunity as well.

At 18, it gave me a lot of hope.

My son is only a year behind her and heading toward college himself, so maybe that made the conversation hit me a little differently.

One of my favorite things is encouraging young people to go after the thing they want before they've accumulated enough reasons to convince themselves they shouldn't.

I know something about waiting.

I eventually landed my dream job at the National Medal of Honor Heritage Center because of the experience I'd built and the quality of my work. I'm proud of that. But part of me wishes I'd had the confidence at Sunny's age to start chasing the things I really wanted.

I wish I hadn't waited so long to give myself permission.

So meeting an 18-year-old who already cares deeply about seeking the truth, and seems willing to follow it somewhere uncomfortable, was probably the best part of opening night.

Tonight

I keep telling myself nobody's going to crap on the film. And I know that's true. I know it.

But apparently my brain hasn't received the memo.

The strange thing is, I'm not really nervous about the film. I trust the film.

I'm nervous about putting myself out there.

This is the first time I've done this. The first time I've stood beside a group of filmmakers and said the same thing they're saying:

"Here's mine."

Tonight, the screening is at Paloma Park. It's a bar in Athens. The sun will go down, the screen will light up, and people I've never met will watch Luccketta carry his grief up a wall and, eventually, turn it into something good.

I'll be sitting there.

Probably not watching the film.

Definitely watching the room.

I hope somebody who needs encouragement has the courage to come say hello and tell me their story.

Because somewhere along the way, I think I was given a gift, by God or the algorithm, depending on how you think these things work.

I like listening to people with intention.

I like finding the thing inside someone that they've forgotten is remarkable and pointing at it until they can see it again.

Maybe that's why I wanted to make Luccketta's film in the first place.

Because underneath the races and the walls and the mud and the grief, The Lionhearts is really about the same thing.

Carrying each other when the obstacle gets too heavy to carry alone.

We'll see what happens.

Come to the screening

When: Friday August 28, 2026 at 7:30PM

Where: Paloma Park, Athens GA

Cost: FREE