“My son Sam has silent disabilities—challenges you can’t see, but that shape how he experiences the world, especially at school. Severe ADHD isn’t just distraction—it impacts how he processes, focuses, regulates, and gets through each day in ways most people will never fully understand.

School became so overwhelming that we were forced into a reality I never imagined. The school made the decision that he doesn’t belong there right now… that he can try again next year.

Not because he isn’t capable.

Not because he isn’t trying.

But because the environment couldn’t meet him where he is.

There’s a quiet kind of heartbreak in that. In watching your child give everything they have, only to be told it still isn’t enough. In knowing their strengths, their heart, their effort—and seeing those things go unseen in the place they’re supposed to grow.

So now he learns from home.

And while that decision came with loss, it also made something else even clearer:

Sports are where Sam finds himself.

It’s where he isn’t “too much” or “not enough.” It’s where he feels capable, steady, and proud. Whether he’s crossing the finish line of a 5K, stepping into kickboxing, or showing up for traveling baseball—this is where his confidence lives.

Sports have become his outlet—his release, his way to process a world that doesn’t always make sense to him.

Sam has proudly completed several 5Ks, but it doesn’t stop there. He pushes himself in kickboxing and commits to the demands of traveling baseball. And every time he shows up, it means more than most people realize.

It’s not just participation—it’s confidence.

It’s belonging.

It’s proof that he can.

And that’s exactly why I’m running.

I’m running so more kids like Sam get the chance to feel accepted—to be seen for who they are, not pushed aside for what they struggle with. I’m running so families don’t have to fight so hard just to find a place where their child belongs.

That’s why I chose to run the Chicago Marathon with Special Children’s Charities.

Because every child deserves a space where they are not just included—but valued.

And every finish line I cross will be for him.”