Tribute Updates
Marathon Complete
A few months ago, I shared that I would be running the 50th Grandma’s Marathon in honor of my grandparents, while donating $1 for every mile I ran in 2026 to the Alzheimer’s Association.
On June 20, I crossed the finish line in 2:53:46.
It was not the race I had hoped for. I fell short of the time I had been chasing. But I’m grateful to share the number that matters most:
$1,548 raised — one dollar for every mile logged in 2026 through race day.
When I started this journey, I thought the story was going to be about a number on a clock. By the end, I realized the real story was everything that happened on the way there.
I learned that ambition can be selfish, but it doesn’t have to be.
Big goals ask a lot of us. They ask for time, energy, sacrifice, and often the patience of the people around us. But when a goal is tied to something bigger than yourself, the pursuit changes. The miles felt different knowing where they were headed. The work carried more weight because it was no longer just about me.
I learned that the process is where the value lives.
The early mornings. The quiet miles. The days when nobody was watching. The discipline to show up when it would have been easier not to. That is where the real growth happened, long before race day.
It’s true in running, in work, and in life: the outcome gets the recognition, but the preparation is where you are truly shaped.
I learned not to rush the process.
Real progress is built in layers. There is no shortcut around the work it takes to become the person capable of reaching a meaningful goal. Whether it’s a career, a skill, a relationship, or a dream worth chasing, the temptation to force the timeline will always be there.
But the things that last are usually the things we allow to develop with patience, humility, and consistency.
And maybe the biggest lesson of all: a missed goal does not mean a failed mission.
The clock didn’t say what I wanted it to say. But the purpose was never lost. The miles still mattered. The cause still mattered. The people still mattered.
More than anything, I learned that we go further together than we ever do alone.
Every mile, message, cheer, and word of encouragement turned a personal goal into a shared one. That is what made this meaningful. That is what made it count.
To everyone who followed along, supported me, or simply encouraged me from afar — thank you.
This was one small way to honor my grandparents and support a mission that is incredibly close to my family’s heart.
The race is finished. The mission continues.
With love