Most fundraising appeals begin with a personal narrative: a challenge faced, a loved one lost, or a moment of adversity overcome. These stories serve as the moral and emotional foundation for charitable giving — the “why,” if you will.

I’ll spare you the full dissertation on mine. Suffice it to say: 2025 entered the scene like a rogue thesis supervisor — uninvited, disruptive, and utterly determined to test my resilience. It has presented challenges both medical and emotional, which I have been navigating with varying degrees of grace (and sarcasm).

Some of you know the details. Some might speculate. Some, frankly, are just here to have a nose — and that’s valid.

The crux of it all is this: I’m fundraising for Anthony Nolan, a remarkable organization that connects people in need of stem cell transplants with life-saving donors. Their work quite literally saves lives. Mine included.

In a somewhat questionable act of optimism (and cardio ambition), I’ve committed to another marathon. Yes — running. Voluntarily. Again.

If you’ve made it this far, I’d be deeply grateful if you could donate — now, next payday, or whenever your bank account and conscience align. Every contribution helps, and every donor becomes part of the story I hope to keep telling for a very long time.

Because while some people process trauma through journaling or therapy, I appear to have chosen endurance sports.

Pray for me. Or donate. Ideally both.