I didn’t always love running.
In fact, I used to dread the days my coaches labeled “running days.” As a competitive rower, I loved to win - but I was often focused on the result, not the process. On what was next, instead of what was happening. I’ll come back to that.

My dad, Brian, taught me life was made up of moments - and that the only way to truly live was to be present for them. He never missed one - big or small, happy or hard. He showed up to every one fully.

When my dad was diagnosed with cancer during my senior year of college, my roommate’s father - a former professional athlete - sent him a book called The Boys in the Boat. He knew my dad was a rower and likely understood there were relevant reminders for my dad as he prepared for what was ahead. In the book they talk about harmony, balance and rhythm, the three things my dad always seemed to have:

“Harmony, balance, and rhythm. They’re the three things that stay with you your whole life… that’s why an oarsman, when he goes out in life, he can fight it, he can handle life.”

That quote described how my dad lived - and how he faced cancer. Harmony was his ability to accept the situation he was in and allow other people to come closer, staying connected to and building his community, never letting fear or anger replace love and gratitude. Balance was how he never wavered, even in the scariest moments; when bad news was delivered, he remained steady not just for himself but for our whole family. And rhythm was his ability to keep moving forward with grace - day after day, moment after moment - quietly inspiring everyone around him by the way he carried himself. I'll forever be in awe of him.

A few years after losing my dad, I found myself overwhelmed - stress and anxiety at an all-time high. A doctor told me I needed an outlet. That’s when I rediscovered running, but this time I saw it differently. I realized the things I loved about rowing - the discipline, the struggle, the pursuit of something bigger than yourself - were there too. Running became a way to be present. To focus on the process, not just the finish line. A place I could escape fears and just let things flow.

My dad taught me that life is worth buying into. That every moment can be meaningful if you choose to be part of it.

So now I’m training for my first marathon - not for a time, and not just for myself - but for my dad. I’m running for the way he showed up to life and for the strength he modeled when life asked more of him than it ever should have. I'm running for everyone who’s forced to show up and fight not because they want to but because there’s no option not to.

Every mile of this race is a reminder of what he taught me: to stay present, to find your swing, and to meet life - no matter how hard mentally or physically - with grace. Because if you’re still moving forward, you’re still living.

I’m raising funds for Haymakers for Hope because they are focused on kicking out cancer and because some causes deserve all of us pulling together.

Thank you for being part of this moment with me.