When my mind wouldn’t stop running, my feet had to catch up.

Grief has a way of taking over everything: your thoughts, your body, your sense of direction.

I lost my dad. I lost my sister. I lost my dog.

I reached a point where everything had slipped through my hands. My people, my peace, the pieces of who I was. In the heart of that ache, I became my own anchor.

Then, almost by accident, I found running.

At first, it was just to escape the noise in my head, but mile by mile something started to shift. Running became the one place where I felt strong. Where I felt like I could breathe again. It didn’t erase the pain, but it helped me carry it, just differently. It reminded me that I was still here, still moving, still worthy. It helped me process the pain, carry the memories, and slowly rebuild myself.

As a first-generation American, I’ve always known what endurance looks like. I saw it in my immigrant parents. In the way they sacrificed, worked tirelessly, and kept going even when they were tired, overlooked, or unheard. They taught me resilience long before I ever knew I’d need it. They showed me how to keep pushing forward when everything inside you wants to quit.

That’s why the Chicago Marathon means so much to me. These streets aren’t just part of a race. They’re part of my story. I ran them when I felt most alone, and somewhere along the way, I found connection, purpose, and my family. This run feels less like a finish line and more like a full-circle moment.

Just like Job in the Bible, after losing it all, he was blessed with even more. That’s the part of the story I’m stepping into. This is my double everything era.

That’s why I’m running with and raising money for the Chicago Area Runners Association (CARA). CARA is more than just a running club — it’s a nonprofit dedicated to building community, supporting mental and physical health, and making running accessible to everyone in the Chicagoland area. They train runners, organize races, and create spaces for connection and healing. Every donation, big or small, helps provide programs, resources, and support for people like me who’ve found hope and strength through running.

This journey isn’t just about crossing a finish line. It’s about honoring what I’ve lost, celebrating what I’ve survived, and creating space for others to heal too.

Thank you for reading my story. And thank you for believing in the power of choosing yourself and moving forward, one step at a time.