Blog

I still remember what my sixth-grade teacher wrote in my yearbook.
She probably doesn’t remember it. But it shaped more than she knew.

We don’t throw a party because the work is easy.
We throw it because joy helps us keep going.
Why we show up fancy, in sneakers, and what girls are learning by watching us do it.

Not every training goes perfectly. Not every coach feels ready. And that’s exactly the point.
An open letter to our new coaches about imperfection, growth, and why you don’t have to be an expert to belong here.

Why girls need grown-ups who are still growing

The work you can’t hold in your hands is often the work that holds a girl together.

Sometimes joy returns not when everything goes right, but when we finally let go — of control, perfection, and the need to have it all together — and trust the people beside us to shine..

A few weeks ago, I shared that I was running on empty.
This week, I found something that refilled me — a circle of women, a hard conversation about joy, and a reminder that maybe the antidote to exhaustion isn’t rest alone, but learning how to feel again.

I had a dream about the last girl crossing the finish line alone. Maybe that dream wasn’t about her at all — maybe it was about every one of us still showing up when the stands are empty.

My feed is usually filled with recipes, kids’ photos, and DIY ideas I’ll never make. But lately? It’s been violence on repeat. Videos of people hurt, lives lost, tragedies dissected like a sport. Even 9/11 footage replayed until the weight of it feels dulled.

And our kids are watching.

In my latest blog, I wrestle with how tragedy has shifted into entertainment—and why that matters for our girls. At Girls on the Run, we believe in teaching empathy, courage, and respect as the antidote to fear and violence.

This was Abby on her very first day of school.
Tiny backpack. Big dreams.
No clue yet what the world would try to tell her about who she is—or isn’t.

She’s almost 13 now.
And some days, she already feels like she’s not enough.
Not pretty enough.
Not cool enough.
Not anything enough.

I’ve been reading The Anxious Generation, trying to make sense of it all.
And what I keep coming back to is this:
It’s not the girls. It’s the culture.

I wrote about it.
For her.
For the girl I used to be.
For yours, too.