About
The Soul Runner is a living journal written from a season of growth, reflection, and reconnection.
It’s a space for being honest about uncertainty, ambition, creativity, discipline, softness, and peace, especially during moments when things feel less clear than expected.
This season began after graduating from Kellogg’s MBAi program, a Kellogg MBA alongside a joint degree in Artificial Intelligence. I came to the MBA looking for answers and thought that by the end I would feel clear about what comes next. Instead, I feel more confused than ever.
After finishing the degree, I went to Taos, New Mexico alone for three weeks. I spent much of my childhood there, and it has always been a place where I can breathe differently. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after Kellogg, but I knew Taos would help ground me.
The first week was hard. I felt guilty for not applying to jobs, exhausted from a completely drained social battery after the intensity of the final months of the MBA, and restless sitting with my thoughts — the same ones that followed me from Chicago. I felt completely lost.
In the second week, I got an email.
I had been accepted to run the New York City Marathon for NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. My dream. Two months earlier, I had been crushed after being rejected from the lottery (again). Suddenly, everything shifted.
In that moment, the future felt more certain. Something to work toward. Something concrete.
I noticed how quickly my mood changed. It left me with questions. Do I need something good, and out of my control, to pull me out of a fog? Do I need something to look forward to in order to feel steady in the present?
Because of that, I wanted to hold onto both — the structure of training and the questions it brings up. The Soul Runner is a place to explore them together, and to keep moving forward through both.
This is an attempt to train not just for a race, but for a different way of moving through my life. More intentionally, more honestly, and with more care for my body and mind.
This space holds the physical, the mental, and the emotional — from both the training itself and the thoughts that come with it.
Begun in Taos, and carried forward into whatever comes next.
Las Ristras
The ristra is both a symbol of New Mexico and a reflection of the process this project holds. Traditionally, it’s a string of chiles hung to dry that are made by hand, piece by piece, to preserve and provide nourishment for the seasons ahead. It carries a quiet sense of care, intention, and continuity: something built in the present that sustains you later. It’s also a symbol of protection and abundance, often hung at the entrance of a home, grounding a space with warmth and presence.
For me, it holds all of that at once. Discipline without harshness, ritual without rigidity, beauty woven into something deeply practical. In this season, it mirrors what I’m trying to do: move more intentionally, take better care of myself, and trust that what I’m building — run by run and thought by thought — will carry me forward into whatever comes next.
I painted the logo on a Buddha Board — a practice inspired by the Zen idea of living in the moment, using water on canvas that fades as it dries. It felt fitting for this project: a practice in presence, not permanence.