Shamrock Marathon 2017: Strong, Smart and Brave 

“Be strong enough to stand alone, smart enough to know when you need help, and brave enough to ask for it.” ~Mark Amend 

If I could pick the shape of my heart, I’d draw a shamrock in the middle of my chest. Shamrock Marathon weekend is my heartbeat. It’s the place I discovered my strength. Over the course of 13.1 miles in 2010, I became the narrator of my own life. Prior to that race, I lived the life I thought I should love. After I crossed that finish line, I began to live the life I wanted. Shamrock Marathon weekend empowers me year after year. 

This year my shamrock story began to take shape as I stood on the sidelines of the Richmond marathon last November. I witnessed “coaches” running up and down the course encouraging their runners. The moment I saw it, I knew that was the role I wanted to own race weekend. 

It didn’t take much convincing for my coach  to say yes. In fact I think he said yes before I finished asking. My friend and fellow pacer, Steve and I would strategically place ourselves outside Fort Story before mile 10 and mile 23 of the Shamrock half and full marathon. 

Race morning arrived along with terrible weather. You won’t read a race report that doesn’t talk about how the cold/rain/snow/sleet/hail/gail force winds impacted everyone’s race. As course support, I couldn’t let this impact me. I packed multiple outfits, extra shoes, and four coats. I needed to be ready. 

My job as a spectator started with the half. I watched the first half of the race head north from 80th street. With enough time to catch the front runners, I made my way to 89th street. This is when my real work began. It was time to run with my team. 

Our fast runners came through. Tucked in with pace groups, they looked strong. I knew the race belonged to them. One by one my teammates came off the fort. They arrived faster than I expected. 

Every half marathoner looked strong. They were focused. They had fight. Not a single one faltered. Steve and I ran up and down Atlantic Ave between 89th and 82nd street running with our teammates and cheering on every other racer. It was a tough day, and if I could give someone a boost of energy, I was going to do it. 

As the last half marathoner came through, the weather took a turn for the worse. Maybe it had already been that bad but when I was running with my team I was oblivious to the weather. When I stopped moving and waited for the marathoners to make their way to us, my body began to falter. Wet, cold, shivering, and a slight shade of blue, Steve and I took cover under a tree. Time stood still, and the ugly doubt that creeps in on race day found me. Trembling, I wasn’t sure I could endure several more hours of the weather.  Steve saw me falter, and like a true friend and pacer he came to my rescue. He was able to move my car from 80th to 89th so I could remove my wet layers, blast my heat, and warm my body up. He took over so I could stop shaking. 

Next year we need the tree to provide more rain coverage

Our first marathoner came through. Seeing Steve run with our dear friend unfroze my brain. I had a job to do. I put dry socks on my feet, layered on clothes that felt the least wet, and I resumed my position on the course. 

The marathoners needed us more than ever. By Mile 23, everyone hurt. Everyone was frozen. Everyone had doubts. Everyone wanted to be done. My job was to shower them with positivity and praise as they attacked their final 5k. 

One by one Steve and I ran with every runner. The race course felt like a ghost town. Unlike the crowded half, the marathon felt empty. The familiar faces of our team were easy to spot. We tied shoes. We opened Gus. We dug water bottles out of camelbaks. We ran. We high fived. We didn’t stop until we found our last runner. 

After nearly 8 hours of running with our team, Steve and I had crossed our finish line. The race was done. 

All that is left is the course sweeper!

While the logistics of the day are easy to describe, the emotion of the day keeps slipping away from my finger tips. I got to witness everything. I saw hope and strength. I saw gratitude and fight. I saw desperation and panic. I saw courage. I saw the spirit of what it means to be human for 8 hours, and for a moment I was able to add positivity to someone’s day. 

While every single runner responded to Mile 10 and Mile 23 in a different way, there was one common theme amongst all my teammates. When they were at their edge and at the point of breaking, they all had one question. They wanted to know how everyone else was doing? They wanted to know if a teammate and friend was on pace for their goal. They wanted me to know a teammate was right behind them. They told me what they were wearing so I wouldn’t miss anyone. Everyone was more concerned about a teammate then themselves. At their lowest, my teammates wanted to make sure their teammates were given the support they needed. 

I learned more than I ever thought I would on Sunday, and yet I saw once again the same lesson every marathon I’ve ever run has been trying to show me. It doesn’t matter how fast or slow you run. It doesn’t matter how many miles you conquer. 

Strength matters. Be strong enough to stand alone. 

Being smart matters. Be smart enough to know when you need help. 

Bravery matters. Be brave enough to ask for help. 

Collectively our entire team was strong, smart and brave on race day. This is the magic of our team. We are our best when we are together. 

And just like that, the season is over. The bad weather moved out. The sun started to shine as the finish line came down. Spring is here, and we all endured more than we every thought we could. 

So long Shamrock 2017! This year we learned there is nothing we can’t handle. 

Until next season….


Today is International Women’s Day. It is a day to recognize the strength and importance of women in our culture but to also draw attention to the exclusion of women from our world.  This year the campaign is asking us to #beboldforchange by taking groundbreaking action that truly drives the greatest change for women. Each one of us – with women, men and non-binary people joining forces – can be a leader within our own spheres of influence by taking bold pragmatic action to accelerate gender parity. Through purposeful collaboration, we can help women advance and unleash the limitless potential offered to economies the world over.

As I got ready for work this morning, my thoughts wandered as they often do. Driven by my own personal desires to create change, I often feel paralyzed. How do I make that bold move for change? How do I create an impact?  How do I reach the outer circle of life where change seems to occur? More often than not it feels beyond my reach.

A reoccurring pattern keeps appearing in my thoughts: circles and ripples. They have become one in the same. If I am the center of my life, my most immediate impact is the circle that is next to me. As change reaches my family, the circle expands. My impact begins to ripple outward towards that unreachable space.

my notebook of thoughts

Perhaps the most impactful way to #beboldforchange is to start by living small. You have to start in the center. You have to start with you.


Breath of Sunshine began the moment I realized I missed writing. Touched by the ripple of a blog from women in Vancouver, I created a space for myself. I would share my story as a means of writing again. I wrote for no one but myself. The more I wrote, the more I fell in love with my story.

I shared my story. My family began to read my blog. A few friends began to follow. My reach grew. A few strangers found the space I had carved out for myself. My blog is small, but many have thanked me for its impact.

For six years, I’ve capture my heart “on paper”. While the content of my blog has evolved, I’ve never stopped writing for myself. I’ve always been an audience of one. I write for myself. I will never tell you how to live your best life, how to run faster, how to parent a child, but I will always share the lessons I learn along the way. I write them down so I can process the lesson. I write them down so I remember. I share them so I can feel the impact of my life.


Today on International Women’s Day when I’m desperately wishing I could reach the outer circle where change magically seems to occur, I’m taking the time to reflect on the change that occurred the moment I recognize the worth of my inner most ripple. As I approach my 37th birthday, I see how lucky I am. I love every piece of my life and every part of who I am. I know I am loved. I know I am privileged. While today I feel an abundance of gratitude  for the life that I live, I know that this didn’t occur over night.

My inner most circle if filled with love. This floods the next immediate circle, my family, with love. Through my story, by sharing myself, I believe that the next circle and the next circle are also touched by the love that exists in the center of my life. This blog, no matter how small, has allowed me to cast ripples into the world.


On Saturday, I had the privilege of running with one of the most dynamic and life filled women I have ever met. She has dedicated the remainder of her life to creating ripples of love and support to those who need a reminder that they are worth the fight. As Kim spoke, her words, her ripple nearly knocked me over. When describing the people she’s met along the way, she described them as the following:

The Light that Reflects Light

My life, my love, and my heart is filled with light. My grandparents must have had a glimpse of the life I would someday live when they nicknamed me Sunshine.

Most days I feel like my light is my own. I’m honored when people recognize it, but my intention has never been for people to recognize it.

This year, the year of waking up, I am starting to wonder.





Be Bold.

Start small.

But when should I go big?

The best way to reflect the light of others is to let my own light shine. Once the light shines, don’t I have an obligation to spread my reach? Once you’ve reached the most immediate layers, what responsibility do we have to make a bigger splash? This is where I falter. This is where the doubt creeps in.

My voice isn’t unique. There are hundreds, thousands and millions of other women who stand on my same platform. There are bigger voices, louder voices, more impactful voices that say exactly what I say. Why should I share? Why should I speak? These are all the questions I ask myself. These are the doubts.

Today I’m setting a new intention to change that. Why shouldn’t I? Why not me? To that question, I don’t have one good answer.

It’s time to expand my ripple.


Sunset on the Elizabeth River

The Perception of Success

After I finished my twelve mile run on Saturday, I stood in the parking lot listening to my two friends share their stories about training for spring races, and I thought to myself I am so glad I’m not training right now. After a few minutes of stretching and more chatting, I head back out to run some more. I wanted to entertain my friends and teammates as they finished their own long runs. The more I ran with them, the more I thought to myself how happy I was to not be training.

Then it hit me. I am training. I may have laughed out loud when I realized how absurd my “not training”  thoughts were all morning.

My goal race for the season is 8 weeks away.

Last week I ran 28.4 miles, I went to the gym once, and my husband was out of town.

For every workout I complete, I use my favorite colored pens to write in my results on my training plan.

I send an update email to my coach every Monday. We talk about goals and dreams all the time.

I’m doing speed workouts, tempo runs, strength training, and long runs.

I most certainly am training, but as I listened to my friends discuss their own training, I felt relief because I don’t feel like I am.


On Tuesday, my Facebook notifications didn’t stop. Awarded the crown of the weekly Lucky Leprechaun for our training team, I was being showered with love from my teammates. Stories of friendship, miles, and teamwork filled my heart to the brim. I was on cloud 9 as I headed out after work to complete my speed workout.

10×800 in my new favorite run spot: the Elizabeth River Trail.

Right away I could feel that my legs didn’t have much to give. The night before I had maxed out on weight in back squats. My glutes and legs were reminding me that they had already worked hard, but I was on cloud 9. I had a team who believed in me. I was going to run fast and hard. By the third interval things weren’t loosing up. They were getting tighter. My body was starting to fight back.

I started to do math. If I completed the whole workout, I’d see another increase in my weekly mileage. If I cut it short, where could I make up the miles?

Pause. Process. Proceed. A nice remind along the Elizabeth River Trail

My hips fought back more and more. This is when I stopped. I kicked my ego to the curb, and I cut my workout in half.


Last Saturday I ran nearly 18 miles. It wasn’t forced. It was enjoyable. I never felt like I was training.

On Tuesday my team showered me with love and not a single one of them mentioned how fast or slow (depending on your perception) I can run, my PRs, or weekly mileage. No one gave me a high five because I ran ever mile on my training plan. They celebrate my spirit and the spirit of running.

For a long time I chased the race clock. I counted every step of every mile. It worked for a while.

I’m a believer that there are seasons for everything in every aspect of life. I needed that season of race clock chasing as much as I need this season of “not training”, but eventually my season of chasing the race clock came to a dead end. I lost the joy of PRs (or lack there of). I lost my motivation to wake up before dawn to run. Chasing the race clock no longer motivated me.

Success in running has always brought me joy. But when the success was no longer tangible in the form of a PR or a time on I race clock, I began to floundered. Could I run just to enjoy running? How would I stay engaged if I wasn’t chasing a time goal?

The answer has become a simple one. I run to pay it forward. Running and the community and friendships I’ve been given as a result of all my training has become my form of personal records.


My goals for this year has nothing to do with race times or any forms of measureable growth. My goal for this year is to wake up. It started as a simple action. I wanted to wake up every morning ready to conquer the day whether that meant a 4am wake up to run repeats before work or to wake up and head into work excited about a new project. It quickly became so much more than a simple action. It brought awareness to how I live. It became an awakening.

As seasons change, our definition and perception of the world must change with it. I love chasing success. Until recently it came in the form of measurable goals. The word success is so often attached to attaining something. But what if success isn’t a destination? What if success isn’t a check in the box? Instead what if success is about creating an invisible ripple in the world that elevates everyone it touches.

This new perception of success is how I know I’m at my personal best. This is the direction I am heading. This is where my running shoes are taking me. 

It’s only February. And I feel like my eyes are wide open!


Cancer Better Run

“The only credential the city asked was the boldness to dream. For those who did, it unlocked its gates and its treasures, not caring who they were or where they came from.” ~Moss Hart

On November 5, 2017, I’m taking my dreams to New York City. Twenty six point two miles through all five boroughs is waiting for me. Truth be told, the New York City Marathon has never been on my bucket list. I’m not a city girl. But when my friend Karen started dreaming during one of her rounds of chemotherapy about how she was not only going to beat cancer but how she was going to help other people beat cancer too, her dream became my dream too.

Through out the course of Karen’s chemotherapy, we shared more miles than we ever had. Cancer slowed her down enough to be my perfect running partner. Together we crushed the Crawlin Crab Half Marathon. With our partner in crime Steve,  Karen and I ran from the Richmond 8k. Chemotherapy on Friday. Race day on Saturday. When Karen started dreaming of running the New York City Marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, I knew I needed to be beside her.

Richmond 8k


Cancer Better Run was born.

Karen, Steve, (fancy) Karen, and I have teamed up to conquer Cancer and this marathon. Our dreams are big. We have 10 months to raise $14,000 dollars to earn our spot at the start line. We have 10 months to prepare our bodies for 26.2 miles. We have 10 months to celebrate Karen’s fight.

Every single person on our team has been touched by cancer, and Karen has defeated it. The New York City Marathon is so much more than a race. It’s a celebration. It’s a start line. It’s a finish line. Its our way of celebrating life and making a difference.

Training for a marathon is hard. It’s a huge sacrifice of time and energy, but it is always worth it. Fundraising is hard. It’s a huge sacrifice of time and energy, but it is always worth it. Combining both is a guarantee that this year is going to be grueling and exhilarating.

If the quote above is true, the only credential the city asks for is the boldness to dream, then our team, Cancer Better Run, is well on its way to unlocking the gates of New York and our fight against cancer. Treasure is ours to claim.

Please donate to our team page here: Cancer Better Run

Cancer Better Run


When I started this blog, it scared me. There have been so many posts that I have sent to friends for validation before hitting publish. As my blog has grown, so has my voice. My confidence followed. This space has become safe. It has become my comfort.

Almost too safe. Almost too comfortable.


I’ve hidden behind my written words, and when it comes time to speak, I feel the same fear I used to feel before I hit publish.

Expressing myself outloud is hard. My friend Amy stated it best. The words get stuck somewhere between my heart and my mouth. When I write, my heart comes out of my fingers but when I speak, it gets stuck.

Last Tuesday I had no other choice but to speak.

Every season our training team gets together to celebrate the spirit of running and life. Running Reflections instantly became a highlight for me last season as I listened to four powerful teammates share their stories of overcoming life. That night I was gifted with a mindset for race day and life.

This season I was asked to speak.

Although I enthusiastically said yes to speaking inside I held tightly to nerves and doubts. What story should I tell? What story is worthy of sharing? Because my heart now speaks through my fingers, I sat down to write. As I explored my doubts, I found the beauty in my story.

“When we deny the story, it defines us. When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending.” ~ Brené Brown

My greatest fear on Tuesday night was that when my words left my body through my mouth instead of my fingertips, I’d feel weak. I’d loose control. I was afraid that if I let my story become unstuck from my heart, I’d be forced to face things all over again. Was I really living the silver lining of my story?


As I stood in front of over 100 teammates to share my story, my voice trembled. My nerves came spilling out, and it was okay. Staring back at me was a room full of people who were cheering me on. Through a few trembling sentences, I let the nerves leave my body. Once those nerves left, something magical happened. I relaxed. I felt confident. Over the course of fifteen minutes, I felt myself transforming. I felt light.

It wasn’t a huge transformation. It wasn’t anything I can pinpoint or define. It was just a simple subtle shift of thought. It was a weight off my tired body. It was the next step in my journey.

By the time I finished speaking, I fell in love with my story.

“Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” ~ Brené Brown

I watched the Facebook Live video of my talk the next day. (It was shared privately with our group, so no I can’t share it). Once again I expected to feel something: regret for parts I left out, embarrassment over my numerous hand gestures, etc.

By the time I finished listening, I fell in love with myself. The tiniest of tiny of shift that took place between the start and the finish of my talk made me feel proud.

I did it.

I quit chasing something that night. Instead of wanting to be, that night after the nerves left my body, I just was.

In that moment, in a room filled with so many loving faces, I knew without a doubt that this was, this is, my life to live. The good, the bad, the ugly, the amazing, the loving, and the simple day to day, I am grateful for every breath of it.

The Year of Waking Up

Every season of life I gravitate towards a new word. I’ve lived them all. Let it go. Rooted. Breathing room. Thrive.  I am strong. And so many more. More often than not my seasons of life are attached to a training cycle. 

Running imitates life. 

Life imitates running. 

As I welcomed the new year, I also welcome a new training cycle. The goals are the same, but I knew I needed a mental change. Chasing sub 2 hours in the half marathon has grown stale. Three years of the same goal supported by a ton of mental growth and maturity (but no PRs) makes the goal less exciting. I’m not chasing numbers anymore. I’m chasing feelings. 

I know when I’ve run a strong race. I don’t need a time clock to validate my effort, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not frustrated with not pushing my potential. 

Now is the time to layer back in consistent training. Now is the time to layer back in the drive and motivation to make my training plan work. I’m notorious for hitting snooze instead of waking up long before sunrise. When I get home from work, life happens. Homework. Dinner. Family. 

I’ve come to recognize the gaps in my training, and while discussing it with my coach this week I mentioned that I needed to find the spark that would get me out of bed in the morning. I needed my word. 

No sooner then I set out to find it, it found me too. In fact I’d argue that I already had it. 

“Awakening is not a thing. It is not a goal, not a concept. It is not something to be attained. It is a metamorphosis. If the caterpillar thinks about the butterfly it is to become, saying ‘And then I shall have wings and antennae,’ there will never be a butterfly. The caterpillar must accept its own disappearance in its transformation. When the marvelous butterfly takes wing, nothing of the caterpillar remains.” ~Alejandro Jodorowsky

All I need to do is wake up and just be. 

As a dream chaser this concept can be hard. Just be. Just wake up and run. Don’t focus on a goal. Just run the day I’m given. It is all I need to do to succeed. 

As a working mom sometimes the hardest thing for me to do is to be 100% committed to a training plan. There are philosophies and approaches that work for everyone in every stage of life. It’s never one size fits all. There is also a difference between making excuse and prioritizing life appropriately. It’s all a delicate balance. 

This year my goal is to make sure I’m throwing my rock in the right direction which means I need to find the right space for my running. If I’m going to push my potential, it’s time to quit hitting snooze on my alarm and on my running. It’s time to wake up. 

#trainjanda. My support system.

Why does this even matter? 

Because running imitates life. 

Life imitates running. 

Waking up is so much more than doing mile repeats in the dark. Waking up is an enhanced form of living. It’s mothering with an awake heart. It’s loving with an awake heart. It’s living with my eyes open. 

“Once the soul awakens, the search begins and you can never go back. From then on, you are inflamed with a special longing that will never again let you linger in the lowlands of complacency and partial fulfillment. The eternal makes you urgent. You are loath to let compromise or the threat of danger hold you back from striving toward the summit of fulfillment.” ~John O’Donohue

Welcome to my year of waking up. 

Sea Isle, NJ with my girls

Where do you throw your Rock?

Life is back in full swing. The boys are in school. Work is back on a Monday – Friday routine. It’s a new year with the same schedule, same responsibilities, and same life. Except it feels different. It is never the change of the calander that causes me to reflect. It is the ebb and flow of the seasons. It’s the cycle of the moon. Life always seems to follow their rhythm regardless of what the calander says and my routine dictates.

We are making our way towards light. Between now and June, we will see more sun. Although we are currently in the midst of hibernation, we are preparing for the hot days of summer.

I’m not like most. Summer leaves me depressed. Winter is when I come alive. Even if January 1, 2017 feels the exact same as December 31, 2016, it is an opportunity to take a inventory of life. Where am I? Where do I want to be?

This year I’ve held on to more anxiety than I’d like. My nervous system never seems to take a break. I’m alive and frantic or I’m sitting in a sad solitude. This isn’t my norm. Winter is my season. In winter I thrive. I feel alive and calm.

As I start writing 2017 on all my work correspondences, I’m taking inventory. What layers of my life have caused this pulse of anxiety.

Instead of running errands on my lunch break today, I’ve decided to pause. It’s a gorgeous winter day. The air is brisk. The sky is full of fog. Rain (and maybe snow) is in the forecast. I’ve bundled myself up on my lunch break. I need air. Fresh air. Cold air. The air that settles my nerves and blankets me with peace.

With chilled hands, I’ve doodled. I’m making a visual mental inventory. What is at the center of my world? What is my priority?

Add a layer. Create a ripple.

What comes next? Outside of the very heart of who I am, what is next?

Add a layer. Create a ripple.

And next? Another ripple. And next? Another ripple. Until my life feels both alive and relaxed. That center of my world, that’s where I need to throw my rock. It’s what needs my attention. It’s why my heart whispers Let me Mother. Let that be my ripple. 

When you throw your rock, your energy, at the right place, your life will become filled with all the right ripples. Throw your rock in the wrong direction, and the things you love get washed out and pushes away.

I needed this exercise today. I needed this moment with my notebook and my words in the weather that is made for me to continue to ebb and flow with life.

It’s a new year. I need to make sure I’m throwing my rock in the right direction.

2016. Thank you.

As 2016 comes to an end, I feel my body exhaling. I believe in ending each year with gratitude. It’s important to say thank you to all you’ve been through before moving forward. It isn’t until we appreciate what we have that we can be open to something new.

2016. Thank you.

I started the year with a simple intention. Trust and Transform.

2016 delivered everything I needed to truly trust and transform my life. The more I trusted, the more I transformed. As I made changes to my life – leaving a job, setting new priorities, finding my strength, accepting a new job – the pulse to my every day life became clear. Over and over again I heard a simple whisper.

Let me Mother.

Thank you 2016 for spinning me around until I was dizzy. Thank you for allowing me to refocus and gain true perspective of what matters most to me in life. Thank you for forcing me to wade through a very hot summer feeling stuck in all aspects of life. Thank you for gifting me an amazing community to spin with, wade through life with, and find clarity with. Thank you for opening new doors and bringing new opportunities. Now it’s time to grab hold of this new vision.

Fossil Beach

“I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other.” ~Rainer Maria Rilke

As 2017 approaches, my intention it to make my heart whispers my pulse. I want it to be the vibration of my home. I want the underlying current of everything I do to peaceful and at ease.

Let me Mother.

I don’t know exactly what these words mean or what they will become. I just know this phrase has guided me and continues to guide me through everything in life. This year I want my household and my family to live and breath for each other. I want the space to tell our story. I want my boys to be immersed in what I love and what they love too. This year, I want to walk beside my boys in the woods with muddy feet and smiling faces. I want the walls of my home to vibrate with their music. I want to exist in the root of everything I love. 

The noise is gone. The distractions have been removed. 2017 I have no idea what you hold, but I’m ready.

York River State Park

Surf n Santa 5 Miler. Do you Believe?

“From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: that we are here for the sake of each other – above all for those upon whose smile and well-being our own happiness depends, and also for the countless unknown souls with whose fate we are connected by a bond of sympathy. Many times a day I realize how much my own outer and inner life is built upon the labors of my fellow men, both living and dead, and how earnestly I must exert myself in order to give in return as much as I have received.” ~Albert Einstein

On Saturday evening I stepped out of the Virginia Beach Convention Center to a sea of Santas. Our running community had shown up to attempt to set a world record. Could we join together to set a new Guinness Book World Record for the most Santa’s to finish a race?

Lost in the crowd, I was one of 5,025 Santas that ran the five mile route along our coastline. The previous record was set with 4,961 santas. While I was lost in the crowd, I mattered. Every single one of us mattered. Together we set a new record.

📷: Chelsea Nuzum


While it may seem to be a silly task, showing up and running a race dressed up wearing a Santa Suit for the sake of a world record, the truth is it was so much more.

The truth is showing up matters.

The truth is we are stronger together.

The truth is life is better when living light hearted.

The truth is believing in the magic of Santa is what allows us to set a record: world records, personal records, and life records.

📷: J&A Racing


Every single person who showed up to the race on Saturday believed we had a chance at setting the record. By mile two when I was dripping with sweat and desperate to remove the hot polyester suit, I left it on. I kept running. I pushed through the last hot and hard miles because I trusted that every other person on the course was also committed to running in their suit. I could have slowed down. I could have stopped to embrace the lights on the boardwalk, the gingerbread stop, or the candy cane giveaway, but I kept going. As much as I wanted to set this record for J&A Racing, I also wanted to do it for me.

This year I have worked hard to believe in my voice and my ability. I’ve worked even harder to share them with my community. I’ve worked hard to recognize that even if lost in the crowd, my voice matters. Slowing down wasn’t an option (for me). Not today.



“Life isn’t worth living, unless it is lived for someone else.” ~Albert Einstein

While I was only one of the 5,025 Santas on the course, the record wouldn’t have been set without me. While my voice is just one in a world of billions, my world wouldn’t exist without it.

In the true spirit of the season, the more I love the better our world becomes. The more we show up, put on our Santa suits, push through hard, finish what we start, and chase down new records, together we will change the pulse of the world.

There are so many world records begging for us to beat them. Grab you Santa suit. We’ve got work to do. It all starts with one person believing, and it becomes possible when 5,025 commit and believe too.

As we enjoy the holiday season, ask yourself what you believe in.

Race stats:

Official finish time – 45:25, 642/5221, 39/461 age group

Splits – 8:52, 9:04, 9:07, 9:17, 8:47