will you join my running photography club?

Running has been with me for as long as I can remember. My dad taught me to run when I was three years old, running loops around our house and telling me to pump my arms. Since then, I’ve run on tracks, on cross-country teams, on roads, trails, through pregnancies, and the day before my son was born. Running isn’t something I do; it’s who I am.

My project shows what running feels like. The photographs are fragments, blurred, gritty, impressions of motion. Restless and imperfect, like running itself, these photographs reflect what rises in me over the miles: a thought, a memory, gratitude, anger, love. They carry the alchemy of running, making space for grief and love in the same stride, holding exhaustion and elation, discipline and abandon, persistence and joy.

As I run, my mind drifts: to my kids, Miles and Margot, fighting, and how lucky I am to have them after years of IVF and miscarriages; to my legs and healed toe, powering me forward; to my mom, who told my dad she wasn’t ready to die, her words breaking me open as I push myself; to Dennis, my husband, who wakes early to parent so I can run; to my brother pulling a man from a burning car; to Taylor Swift songs, orange gardens, pink glittery pain caves, gratitude lists, and sunrises. And always, to Miles and Margot, Dennis and my dad, who will one day watch me finish seven marathons in seven days, across seven continents.

My project is about love, resilience, gratitude, and strength. Above all, it is about joy. Running is my favorite thing. My photographs are what that joy feels like: messy, alive, relentless, tender. They invite you to step into my miles, to feel the blur of motion and the weight of reflection, and to join me in the complicated, beautiful, relentless act of moving forward.