4x4x48

When my daughter Lilly Belle was just 11 weeks old, her tiny body was overtaken by something silent and savage. One moment she was in my arms. The next, we were in a hospital room full of wires, white light, and machines keeping score.

I sat by her side, watching the monitors—watching those beeps like they were drumbeats keeping her alive. I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know if I’d be leaving that hospital with my daughter.

But she fought. And she stayed.

And that’s something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

Lilly Belle recovered, and I know how lucky we are. But not every family walks out with that same miracle. Some are changed forever. Some are shattered. And that’s why I’m doing this challenge.

40 minutes. Every 4 hours. For 48 hours.

Day or night. Rain or shine.

Tired bones, aching feet, sleep-deprived and running on grit.

It’s 48 hours of breaking through walls, again and again.

It’s physical. It’s mental. It’s relentless.

And that’s the point.

Because this isn’t just about going the distance.

It’s about discipline.

It’s about choosing to keep going when everything in you says stop.

It’s about honoring the kind of strength I saw in that hospital—the kind you don’t ask for, but find when there’s no other choice.

Every 4-hour window feels like a moment in that hospital room—another wave of uncertainty, another chance to fight, another moment where you don’t know what’s coming next.

Families facing meningitis live in that space for days, weeks, sometimes forever.

If I can carry even a fraction of their weight for 48 hours, then I’ll workout until my body says no and my heart says go again.

I’m doing it for the ones still fighting. For the ones who lost. For the parents who sit in silence, watching machines and praying to gods they never believed in.

This is for Meningitis Now—a lifeline for families caught in the storm of meningitis. They offer hope, help, and healing when the world turns cruel and cold.

If you can spare a few coins, a few words, or even just a share—I’d be grateful. This isn’t just about working out, this is about pushing yourself to the limits and pushing through it all. It’s about honoring what we’ve been through and lifting up those still in the thick of it.

For My Bella.

For the ones we love,

For the ones we lost.

— Vic Haskins