Running is my time. It's the one part of my day that belongs entirely to me. Just the Esplanade, Beacon Street, and whatever I'm carrying that day slowly loosening its grip.

On the hard days, when the last thing I want to do is lace up and go, those are actually the runs that matter most. Showing up when you don't want to is where the growth lives. I've learned that more from running than almost anything else.

What I love most is the process. The easy early miles. The slow mileage builds. The long runs that make you question everything. The taper. And then race day — not just the finish line itself, but the moment you realize all of those hard days worked. That you showed up for yourself, and it paid off.

My mom ran marathons and I used to cry every time she crossed a finish line. I still cry watching the Boston Marathon every April — standing on the same streets I train on, watching people do this impossibly hard thing, thinking I want to do that.

In July 2021, I started running for myself for the first time. No team. No coach. No finish line I was required to cross. What followed was years of training, racing, getting injured, rebuilding through physical therapy, and never once seriously considering stopping. I couldn't. Running had become too much a part of who I am.

I once couldn't imagine finishing 3.1 miles. I just signed up for my first marathon. Growth doesn't have a finish line, but it's pretty sweet when you cross one.