06/05/2025
In every community, there are quiet heroes. Today, we honor one of our own, Dr. Brown, whose journey is a testament to resilience and unwavering dedication. His story is not just about medicine—it's about grit.
"60 by 60: One Rural Physician’s Journey Through Grit, Grief, and Global Adventure"
When Dr. Wayne Brown sets a goal, he doesn’t just aim for achievement—he aims for transformation. So, when the seasoned rural physician set out to complete 60 endurance events before his 60th birthday, it wasn’t just about the races. It was about reclaiming health, exploring the world, facing grief, and proving to himself and others that no challenge is too steep when taken one pedal stroke at a time.
A fixture in Fillmore, Utah, Dr. Brown wears many hats. As a physician with Intermountain Health, he’s not only Chief Medical Officer at Fillmore Hospital but also the director of emergency services, trauma care, and hospice.
“In rural medicine,” he says, “you wear a lot of hats. And you get to know everyone—by name, by family, by story.”
Brown has practiced in Fillmore for 22 years, but his journey with Intermountain began long before.
“I started in the late ’80s as a respiratory therapist,” he says. “Then I went to med school in Vermont, did my residency through an Intermountain program, and just kept going. It’s been a great fit.”
Despite his dedication to healthcare, Brown noticed over a decade ago that the demands of life had taken a toll.
“My blood pressure was high. My blood sugar was high. I’d been so focused on my work that I’d neglected my health,” he says.
The wake-up call came during a routine health fair hosted at the hospital: “It hit me that if I didn’t make changes, I wasn’t going to be around as long as I hoped.”
So he returned to something that had once brought him joy—cycling.
It started with rides around town, then longer ones with friends. Soon, Brown was signing up for century rides—100-mile events that test both physical and mental endurance. His first was the Tour de St. George, a hot, hilly grind through Utah’s red rock country.
“I trained with 50- and 60-mile rides. I figured if I could do that, I could push through the rest,” he laughs. “It was tough, but I finished. And I was hooked.”
Inspired by his daughter’s goal of completing 30 life experiences before she turned 30, Brown adopted a milestone of his own: 60 events by 60. However, he didn’t set out to become an elite athlete.
“I’m not out here to win races,” he says. “I’m just a rural doctor trying to stay healthy, see the world, and do something hard.” And he did—dozens of times over.
His events ranged from local favorites like LOTOJA (Logan to Jackson Hole), to grueling gravel races like the Crusher in the Tushar in Beaver, Utah. He tackled the MS 150 ride in Logan, raising money for multiple sclerosis.
“I like the events that benefit something bigger than me,” he says. “It makes the miles mean more.”
But it wasn’t just Utah terrain he conquered. Brown traveled far beyond state lines—and time zones—to fulfill his goal. From the base camp of Annapurna in Nepal, to the volcanic landscapes of Iceland, to the rugged mountain villages of Albania and Greece, he pedaled through breathtaking, often unforgiving terrain.
One of his most vivid memories came on a ride through the mountains of Albania.
“I was trying to cross a road clogged with goats,” he recalls. “I’d passed a dog earlier that had just been lying there. But as I was walking my bike through, it bit me. No bark. No growl. Just bit.”
The bite set off an international scramble for rabies treatment. The local clinic didn’t carry the vaccine. Brown eventually found his way to the Albanian capital of Tirana, only to be told the health department was closed. The next day, the hospital was out of vaccine altogether.
“I flew to London, spent the night in an ER, and got the shot there,” he says. “I finished the rest of the series back home in Utah, in our Intermountain system. Much easier.”
Still, the bite didn’t derail him. Nor did COVID, which he unknowingly contracted while racing the Crusher in the Tushar one year.
“I didn’t finish,” he says. “I missed the cutoff. The next morning, I tested positive.”
Brown’s 60th and final event took place in April 2025—just weeks before his June 30 birthday.
“I was cutting it close,” he admits. “There aren’t many events that early in the year. If I hadn’t finished that one, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
The 60-by-60 journey spanned nearly a decade, with a few earlier events retroactively counted. But what makes it extraordinary isn’t just the number. It’s the context. During those years, Brown’s wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. She passed away three years ago.
“Those years were all about her and our family,” he says. “Cycling had to wait.”
Grief made returning to training harder.
“It’s not easy getting back into shape in your late 50s,” he laughs. “But I did it. Slowly, steadily, I did it.”
He credits the endurance events with helping him heal.
“There’s something about getting on a bike, hearing the wind, feeling your legs burn, and just focusing on the next pedal stroke. It clears your mind.”
That peace, he says, is hard to find elsewhere.
“There’s so much happening all the time—at work, in life. But when I’m riding, I’m just present. And sometimes, that’s all we need.”
Some of his favorite moments came during quiet interactions on the road.
“In Iceland, I traded water for safe river passage with a group of travelers in Jeeps,” he says. “In Moab, we rode the White Rim Trail overnight by moonlight and ended up lying on the desert floor, dehydrated, looking at stars. You meet the best people in these races.”
Though he’s now officially reached his goal, Brown doesn’t plan to stop.
“There’s always another ride. Another challenge. Another beautiful place I haven’t seen.”
He’s also proud of the impact his journey had on his family.
“My daughters came to so many of the finish lines. They do hard things in their lives too, and I hope this inspired them just a little.”
Asked to summarize what he’s learned, Brown says it’s simple: “Headwinds and hills build character. They teach you to keep going, even when it’s hard. That’s what life is all about.”
And he adds with a smile, “You’re not living unless you’re living all in.”
That quote, from the Jack Black film "School of Rock," has become something of a personal motto.
“It’s silly, but it’s true,” he says. “’You’re not hard core unless you live hard core.’”
Dr. Wayne Brown may not see himself as an athlete, but for those who hear his story, he’s much more. He’s a quiet champion of perseverance. A healer who knows the value of self-care. A father who kept going. A cyclist who rode through grief, heat, exhaustion—and even a dog bite—in pursuit of something deeply meaningful.
He’s also proof that you don’t need to be elite to be exceptional.
You just have to start.
And keep pedaling.
