Lauren Kalil’s series with the 2025 Tactical Games National Champions continues with an athlete who has never finished outside the top five at Nationals—and whose fear of failure is exactly what makes him successful.
LeEarl Rugland (that’s “Lee Earl” for everyone who’s been mispronouncing it) has been knocking on the championship door since 2021. Third place in Men’s 40+. Fourth the next year. Fifth. Then he aged up to 50+ and took second. This year, he finally stood on top.
Five consecutive years in the top five. Five years of getting close but not quite. Five years of analyzing data, adjusting training, and refusing to give up.
His approach is unusual for a champion: he has intense anxiety about failure. But instead of letting that anxiety paralyze him, he channels it into obsessive preparation. Research everything. Know the competition’s miss rates. Understand what it takes to win before you show up. Then execute.
It almost fell apart at Nationals this year. He had an 8% lead going into the two-gun stage—81 points ahead overall. He had a plan with his wife: one full mag at the spinner, and if it doesn’t go down, move on. He didn’t stick to the plan. Shot two full mags trying to get that spinner, took a 60-second penalty, and watched his lead evaporate.
He still won. But it was close. Way too close.
Lauren’s conversation covered his journey from Minnesota skirmishes to national champion, his work running student databases for one of the state’s largest school districts, his new obsession with Hyrox (goal: world championship in Sweden), and why he believes the tactical games community might change when prize money enters the picture.
Before anything else: it’s LeEarl. Lee Earl. Two names pushed together.
Not Lurl. Not Laurl. Not Leurl. Lee Earl.
He’s lost count of the variations people have tried. Now that he’s a national champion, everyone should probably learn to say it correctly.
LeEarl moved to a lake house in Minnesota around 2019 or 2020. Met the neighbors. One of them happened to be friends with Shawn—Action Gunner Shawn.
That connection led to conversations about tactical games skirmishes in Minnesota. This was during COVID, so nothing was certain about whether events would actually happen. But the next year, LeEarl showed up to try a skirmish.
He won it.
Nobody knew who he was. He walked around asking questions, gear that didn’t quite match—paintball equipment for a plate carrier, a belt that didn’t fit right. It all met weight requirements and worked fine, but he looked like a complete newcomer.
After the first battle, then the second, people started looking around. Who is this guy?
From there, he started talking to Shawn from Action Gunner and Dustin Sanchez from JP. The involvement snowballed. Skirmishes led to regionals led to nationals led to five consecutive years in the top five.
LeEarl doesn’t like to fail. That’s an understatement—he has intense anxiety about it.
Most people would see that as a weakness. He’s turned it into his competitive advantage.
When he enters a competition, he’s already done the research. He knows the top competitors’ times, their miss rates, their progression over the past several years. For Hyrox, he breaks down each station into a spreadsheet, knowing exactly what numbers he needs to hit. For Tactical Games, he studies how many targets people miss because that’s the variable that matters most.
He doesn’t go into anything blind. If he’s not ready, he won’t compete—which he acknowledges sometimes hurts him because he should just get the experience. But the preparation means that when he does show up, he’s never completely out of his depth.
That first skirmish win? He’d researched the sport, practiced what he could, gathered as much information as possible. He felt ready. The win validated the approach.
His advice for anyone wanting to improve at shooting: find your local two-gun or three-gun community, go to competitions, watch, and talk to people. That’s how you find coaches and mentors. It’s not like CrossFit where you can drop into any gym and find instruction. You have to seek it out.
LeEarl has always been a runner. Through high school, through college, for decades afterward.
In high school, he wanted to win the state track meet in the 800 meter. Got fifth.
In college, he wanted to win nationals. Realized those athletes were on another level. Adjusted the goal to qualifying for nationals. Made it—NCAA nationals in both the 800 and decathlon.
That pattern of setting lofty goals, learning from the gap between ambition and reality, then recalibrating has defined his competitive life. He didn’t fully understand what it took to reach those goals until he was about 30. Now he knows: you see the target, you map out what’s required, you put in the work.
After college running, he shifted to obstacle course racing. Competed for years, eventually becoming a world champion in OCR for the Masters division. He’s also done national archery competitions and Red Bull events. The man likes to compete.
Tactical Games entered the picture and he pivoted again. Now he’s adding Hyrox to the mix—with a goal of winning world championships in Sweden in the 50-54 pro division. His sim event times are already within a minute and a half of world championship pace.
LeEarl runs the student information database for the third-largest school district in Minnesota. Schedules, grades, everything teachers and administrators need. He pulls reports for the state and federal government.
The job is an hour and ten minutes from his house. Each way. That’s 60-plus miles of driving, twice a day.
But the district is flexible with his lunch break. He takes 45 minutes, goes and works out, comes back. That midday training window is crucial—it means he doesn’t have to wake up at 4:30 every morning or sacrifice evening time with his wife.
The commute is brutal, but the flexibility and the work itself make it worthwhile. Problem-solving complex data systems translates surprisingly well to tactical games, where you’re constantly analyzing stages and figuring out optimal approaches.
The consistency is remarkable:
Every single year, top five. Never a catastrophic weekend. Never falling out of contention.
His explanation: competitiveness and shooting improvement.
The physical side comes easy to him—always has. Running background, weight training, obstacle course racing experience. He doesn’t change much about his fitness training year to year. Basic lifting movements. Carrying heavy weight for long periods. Running as much as needed for Tactical Games (now increasing for Hyrox).
What changes is the shooting. That’s where he puts his development focus after every competition. How did he shoot? What did he miss? What needs work?
The last two years especially, he’s prioritized range time and dry fire instead of treating them as afterthoughts. The results show: miss counts going down, long range becoming consistent.
LeEarl went into the two-gun stage at Nationals with an 81-point lead. Eight percent ahead of the field. Comfortable cushion.
The stage had a spinner—same type he’d successfully shot at Iowa earlier in the season. He and his wife discussed the plan: put one full mag through the spinner. If it doesn’t go down, move on. Don’t get stuck.
The plan was solid. He didn’t follow it.
First mag through the spinner. Almost had it. His brain said: I can get this.
Dropped the mag. Loaded another. Shot a second full mag. Still didn’t spin it over.
Finally looked down, realized how much time he’d burned, and took off. But between the 65+ seconds on the spinner and the 60-second penalty for not completing it, he’d hemorrhaged points.
He ran through the rest clean—hit the Texas Star on first attempt—but the damage was done. He lost 75 points to second place on that single stage. Todd, the second-place finisher, was suddenly right there.
His wife was videoing the whole thing, Snapchatting to friends and family. Her commentary is audible: “What are you doing? Move. Get going.” She knew the plan. She watched him abandon it.
He still won. But the margin was way tighter than it should have been.
Lesson learned: when you have a plan, stick to the plan. Especially when you have a lead to protect.
The first stage brought its own problems. LeEarl couldn’t hit his rifle targets—90-degree shooting through the port, targets he rarely misses.
Hit maybe seven shots on the whole thing. Dropped a ton of points. Couldn’t figure out what was wrong.
After the stage, he checked his rifle. The windage knob had been turned one full mil—10 clicks off from where it should have been. Mechanical error, not shooter error.
The mental challenge: don’t let that carry into the rest of the weekend. He had to tell himself it wasn’t him, dial everything back to correct, and move forward. Can’t spiral over something outside your control.
Second lesson from Nationals: always check your windage and elevation knobs before you step to the line.
Here’s something surprising about a five-time top-five finisher at Nationals: LeEarl doesn’t shoot any other shooting competitions.
No two-gun. No three-gun. No run-and-guns. No competitive long-range shooting. Just Tactical Games.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to—those events are always on his list. But every time one pops up, he’s scheduled for something else. Family event, travel, other commitment.
Minnesota has Wednesday night shoots. Shawn has told him multiple times: show up and shoot. He knows it would help with his faster shooting, transitions, and movement. It just hasn’t become a priority yet.
For 2026, that’s changing. He needs more high-stress competitive shooting. Two-gun specifically (not three-gun—he doesn’t have a shotgun and doesn’t want to keep borrowing). That’s the development area that will make the biggest difference.
LeEarl will never be the guy who holds information back. Ask him a question after he competes, he’ll tell you 100% accurately.
Case in point: long range at Nationals this year, 570 yards with significant wind. He missed three times and had to hold way over. As soon as he finished, five or six guys came up asking how far he was holding to the left.
His answer: straight up, 2 to 2.5 mil. Big wind. Here’s what worked.
Why give away that information to competitors? Because he wants to beat people on their best day. If someone uses his intel and beats him, great. He’ll accept that loss.
The Masters divisions—40+ and 50+—are full of guys who operate this way. No one holds back. Questions get answered. Gear gets loaned out. He’s given his backup gun away three or four times, loaned out a rifle, handed over holsters and magazines.
Try finding someone who’ll give you shoes at a running event. Doesn’t happen. Tactical Games is different.
LeEarl believes 2026 will bring a breakout of great athletes into Tactical Games. The prize money will attract competitors who might not have bothered before.
But he’s worried about what comes with it.
When you start throwing $20,000 at a winner, competition can turn cutthroat. Athletes who currently share information might start holding back. The friendly atmosphere on the line might disappear. People might walk past each other without talking.
He doesn’t want that. The community is special precisely because it’s not like that. Elite competitors shake hands, catch up like old friends, help each other navigate obstacles. He doesn’t want to compete somewhere where you don’t know anyone and people give you the shoulder when you try to talk.
Hopefully it doesn’t happen. The culture is strong enough that it might survive the money. But he’s watching.
LeEarl doesn’t set small goals.
As soon as he saw Hyrox and decided to try it, he set his target: win world championships in Sweden in the Men’s Pro 50-54 division.
His sim event times are already three to four minutes faster than current qualifying times. Only a minute and a half off world championship pace. The gap is closable.
He’s competing in Anaheim soon, then Las Vegas and DC. Needs to qualify at one of those first three events, then keep competing and push toward Worlds.
The caveat: sim events and actual events are different. Rock zones vary. More people running around creates chaos. He needs real competition experience to know where he actually stands.
But the goal is out there. High and lofty, just like he likes them.
LeEarl’s five-year journey to a championship offers several lessons:
Anxiety about failure can be productive. Instead of avoiding competition because you might lose, channel that anxiety into preparation. Research, practice, know what you’re getting into. Show up ready.
Shooting improvement is the variable. If you’re already fit, the marginal gains come from shooting. That’s where LeEarl has focused his development, and it’s paid off in reduced miss counts and consistent long-range performance.
Stick to your plan. When you have a lead and you’ve thought through the strategy, execute it. Don’t let excitement override preparation. The spinner wasn’t worth 75 points.
Check your equipment. Mechanical errors happen. A windage knob one mil off can torpedo a stage. Build verification into your pre-stage routine.
Share freely. The community thrives because people help each other. Being generous with information doesn’t hurt you—it raises the level of competition, which makes your wins more meaningful.
Set lofty goals, learn from gaps. You might not win state in the 800. You might not win NCAA nationals. But the pursuit teaches you what it takes. Eventually, you’ll reach something.
Prioritize what matters. Family trips and family time come first. Then competition schedules. LeEarl drives 17-18 hours in one day after Nationals so he can spend Sunday night with the community and still get home for life.
LeEarl Rugland spent five years in the top five without winning. He kept showing up, kept improving his shooting, kept doing the research. This year, it finally came together.
Now he’s chasing a Hyrox world championship. Because why set small goals?
Watch the full interview on Lauren Kalil’s YouTube channel, Queen of Hustle. This is part of her series catching up with all the 2025 Tactical Games National Champions. You can follow Lauren on Instagram or visit her website at laurenkalil.com.
