On November 1st, I will step onto the streets of New York City carrying three stories — three lives — that have shaped every part of who I am. My dad. My brother Danny. And Seth.
This marathon isn’t just a race. It’s the intersection of love and loss, grief and hope, fear and resilience. It’s the place where all three of them run beside me.
I run because sometimes the only way through heartbreak is forward.
I run because their stories deserve to be carried.
I run because I still believe in tomorrow.
For My Dad
When I lost my dad, the world tilted. Grief made everything heavy, and running became the only thing that felt like movement. Each mile was a conversation with him — messy, raw, honest. Some days it hurt. Some days it healed. But every step helped me find my breath again.
In those early months, running was the only place I could feel both the loss and the love at the same time. My dad gave me my stubbornness, my steadiness, and the belief that you keep going even when everything feels impossible. I carry him with me, always.
For My Brother Danny
Losing Danny was the kind of heartbreak that knocks the wind out of your life.
Less than a year after losing my dad, Danny collapsed on a run — doing something he loved. Thanks to immediate CPR, we got time we wouldn’t have otherwise had. Precious time. But on August 11, 2024, we said goodbye.
Danny was a teacher, a father, a husband, a runner, a reader. He was my running buddy — the voice at my shoulder every Pond Meadow Loop, every Turkey Trot, every Falmouth Road Race. He was the person who told me I could keep going, even when I didn’t believe it.
I wear his final heartbeat on my wrist.
I feel him in every hard mile.
And I run to keep the rhythm of his life moving forward.
For Seth
On March 25, Seth walked into the hospital. None of us knew that the days ahead would stretch into more than three months, and that each one would rewrite what we thought strength looked like.
There were surgeries that felt endless. Nights that blurred into mornings. ICU alarms that made our hearts sprint. Doctors moving quickly. Nurses holding hope for us. Victories that lifted us. Setbacks that crushed us. And an exhaustion you only understand when you’ve lived in a hospital long enough to memorize the sound of the floor at 3 a.m.
But Seth never stopped fighting.
I have never seen a human dig so deeply into courage. There were days when the odds were stacked painfully against him — and somehow, he kept moving forward. He is determination. He is grit. He is heart.
After more than three months in the ICU, Seth has moved to an acute care rehabilitation hospital — a milestone that once felt impossibly far away. The road ahead is long. But he has already done the extraordinary.
Seth is the reminder that hope is not fragile.
Hope is a force.
Hope is a heartbeat.
Hope is why I run.
Why the American Heart Association
Heart health isn’t just a cause for me — it’s the thread that weaves through every part of my life.
Years ago, when Seth and I first started dating, I went to a cardiologist to make sure my own heart was healthy. In a strange twist of fate, we realized we were seeing the same doctor.
Today, the work supported by the American Heart Association — the research, the standards, the training, the innovations — is part of what’s helping save Seth’s life. It’s part of why families like mine get more days, more chances, more love, and more hope.
I’m running for the people I love, and for every family that needs just one more tomorrow.
Where You Come In
This November, I will run the NYC Marathon in honor of my dad, my brother Danny, and Seth — and in support of the American Heart Association’s lifesaving work.
Your donation, of any amount, helps fuel research that saves lives.
It helps families stay together longer.
It helps create the breakthroughs that turn terrifying moments into survivable ones.
This marathon is my offering — of grief, of love, of gratitude, and of stubborn hope.
Every mile is a memory. Every mile is a prayer. Every mile is a promise.
Every step is for my dad.
Every step is for Danny.
Every step is for Seth.
Thank you for supporting my 2026 NYC Marathon run and the American Heart Association.
