The Long Run Home is a cross-country marathon project — but it’s also a personal reclamation.
It’s me and Malcolm chasing 26.2 miles in every state, one finish line at a time.
5 states down. A country to go.
Some people run to escape. We’re running to remember. To rebuild.
To make it home — whatever that means now.
Got a race that changed your life? Tell us. Maybe we’ll meet you out there, somewhere in the wide, wild world you sent us to.
This project didn’t start as a bold declaration — it started as a quiet need.
To find a place where my litany of neurodivergencies softened. To outrun my shame, my self doubt, my guilt, my feelings of inadequacy, my depression. A place where I was my only priority.
When covid happened, I found space to be quiet, to reflect, I came out, again and again. I let go of people who harmed me. I shifted my priorities and my obligations. I started running six days a week, and I haven’t really looked back.
Running a marathon in every state might sound like a challenge, but for us, it’s a compass. A meditation on what I thought was impossible. A way to carve a path forward when the way back is no longer an option.
It’s not about medals or finish times — it’s about what happens in between: the early alarms, the playlists that carry me, the strangers who cheer, the way Malcolm curls up against me when it’s all over.
This is a road made of small moments. And somewhere along it, I’m learning what it means to come home.