David Goggins was near death. His body was shutting down — severely dehydrated, he was in danger of kidney failure. He was urinating blood and his feet were covered in bloody blisters. Seven of his toenails had been torn off and were dangling by tabs of dead skin. He shuddered in and out of consciousness.
It was a trauma no human body should have to endure, but like so much of the physical punishment Goggins would suffer in his life, he did this to his own damn self.
A week before, in November 2005, Goggins, then 30, had the bright idea to enter an ultra-marathon. Although he hadn’t run more than a mile in six months, he was going to attempt to race 100 miles in 24 hours with little preparation beyond some Ritz crackers to snack on.
In short, utter insanity.
It went as you might expect — he endured ridiculous pain — with one exception: Goggins actually finished the race. He completed 100 miles in under 24 hours, coming in 37th place and nearly killing himself in the process.
And all the while, one question pingponged around inside his head — the same question most everyone else is no doubt asking: Why are you doing this to yourself?
Goggins’ answer, which he screamed to the heavens as he struggled to complete the race: “Because you are one hard motherf - - ker!”
Difficult to argue with that.
Goggins, a former Navy SEAL, has pushed his body to places few can even imagine, and has enjoyed a distinguished military career.
Now he’s put all his accumulated wisdom — and an almost pornographic level of self-abuse — into the new book, “Can’t Hurt Me: Master Your Mind and Defy the Odds.”
The memoir recounts Goggins’ inspiring personal story and imparts lessons learned while testing his physical limits, whether they be from life-threatening military training, the Ultraman championships or a footrace through the hottest place in the US.
Think he goes too far? Goggins, 43, disagrees. “I laugh to myself, because the only people who ask me questions like that are people who aren’t pushing themselves at all,” he tells The Post.
As Goggins writes, he should have been a statistic.
He grew up in Buffalo during the disco era. His father owned a roller rink. His father was also an abusive monster. A 6-year-old David and his older brother were forced to work nights at the rink, sanitizing shoes, scraping gum off the floors and airing the filthy bathrooms of pot smoke. At midnight, he would collapse on an office couch — his father kept a loaded pistol under the couch’s cushions.
Dad also cheated with the hookers he was running on the side, and beat Goggins and his mother. When Goggins was 8, he and his mother escaped with the help of a neighbor. (His brother chose to stay behind.) They resettled in rural Indiana.
Goggins suffered from toxic stress and drifted. By his junior year in high school, he was on the verge of flunking out. That’s when he decided to turn his life around.
He shaved his head, ditched his saggy pants and started dressing neatly. He also began working harder in school, focused on one goal: He wanted to join the Air Force.
He did make it into the armed forces after high school, but four years later was honorably discharged and picked up work as an exterminator, fishing dead rats out of traps at fast-food restaurants.
Then one morning he happened upon a TV show about Navy SEALs and the hellish training they endure.“The longer I watched, the more certain I became that there were answers buried in all that suffering,” Goggins writes.
He became obsessed with joining the SEALs. One big problem was, those who enlisted couldn’t weigh more than 191 pounds — and Goggins had ballooned to nearly 300. Recruiters laughed in his face.
Finally, he found one willing to take him on — if he could lose 106 pounds by the enlistment deadline in three months.
It was in pursuit of this nearly impossible goal that Goggins had an epiphany.
“I first realized that not all physical and mental limitations are real, and that I had a habit of giving up way too soon,” he writes.
He soon became convinced that most people tap into only about 40 percent of their capabilities.
Goggins set out to push himself as far as he could. He began living a single-minded existence, eschewing comforts and sometimes sacrificing personal relationships in pursuit of finding his own limits.
He is now engaged and living in Nashville, Tenn., retired from the military and working as a wildland firefighter and motivational speaker. He has completed more than 60 ultra-endurance races, including the Badwater, a 135-mile trudge through Death Valley, Calif., three times. He also once held the Guinness World Record for most pullups in 24 hours, tallying 4,030 back in 2013, and of course, almost killing himself in the process.
How to maximize your mindset
See yourself clearly
When Goggins realized he was in danger of failing high school, the news forced him to take a long, hard look at himself. He peppered his bathroom mirror with Post-it notes, spelling out his goals and flaws. Goggins advises being brutally honest: If you’re fat, say so. Then slowly work toward bettering yourself.
Catalog your wins
On mile 80 of Goggins’ first 100-mile run, he was ready to collapse. That’s when he tapped into what he calls his “cookie jar”: a mental repository of his past victories, big and small. If you’re feeling beaten down, he writes, remind yourself what you’re capable of by tapping into the emotional high of a past win, whether it’s losing weight or hitting the winning shot in high school.
Stick to the schedule
Multitasking “has created a nation of half-asses,” the author writes. To cut out wasted time, Goggins suggests breaking your day into 15 or 30-minute blocks, including meals, exercise and rest. Work on just one thing at a time and “pursue it relentlessly,” he writes.
Dissect your failures
In 2012, Goggins attempted to break the record for most pullups in 24 hours (4,020). After failing twice, he made an unflinchingly honest “After Action Report,” examining everything from pullups per minute to the protection he wore on his hands. In January 2013, he broke the record with 4,030 pullups. By analyzing your failures, you condition your mind for the next attempt, Goggins writes. “This life is all a f - - king mind game . . . Own it!”
Harness your resentment
While training to become a Navy SEAL, Goggins endured the infamous Hell Week: 5 ½ days of runs, swims and training exercises that push even elite candidates to give up. A few days in, Goggins and his team were fading — and instructors were looking for signs of weakness. Rather than let them win, Goggins pushed his team to work harder to prove their tormentors wrong. “If your coach doesn’t give you time in the games, dominate practice,” he writes. “[If it’s a boss,] “get to work before them. Leave after they go home.”
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