From Start to Finish

May 27

Confessions of a Non-Runner (But a Very Loud Cheerleader)

To say I’m not a runner is technically true, and wildly understated. If you see me running, please look for what—or who—is chasing me. A marathon? Not on my bucket list. Not even scribbled in the margins. But cheering on my friends and family as they conquer 26.2 miles of sheer determination? That’s something I can get behind—preferably with a coffee in one hand and a snack in the other.

Two weekends ago, I found myself in Rochester, Minnesota, watching my son Max take on his very first marathon—the Med City Marathon—and let’s just say, I’m still feeling all the feels.

*Max and our neighbor & friend Steven, running past us at Mile 8.*

Now, as a professional photographer, I’m usually the one behind the lens capturing other people’s milestone moments—weddings, newborns, senior portraits, you name it. But this time? This moment was mine. My kid. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest. I tried to balance capturing the perfect shot with not screaming his name so loudly that I ruined someone else’s moment.

The day kicked off at a time I can only describe as "marathon o’clock"—aka far too early for anything involving athletic wear. Rochester greeted us with chilly air and quiet streets as spectators trickled in. Meanwhile, I was plotting my strategy like a mom with a mission: Mile 8. Mile 20. The finish line. I had a mental GPS locked on Max.

He hit Mile 8 with a grin, moving strong, steady, and looking suspiciously like someone who might enjoy this sort of thing.

By Mile 20, though, the smiles got smaller. The grit got real. This is where marathons stop being physical and start being psychological warfare—with your own legs. But he kept moving. Kept pushing.

And then—there it was. The finish line. Max came into view, relief on his face as he crossed the finish line, with his family and friends screaming in the background. I put down the camera, just for a second, because some moments deserve to be seen with your own eyes, not just through a viewfinder. Capturing big moments in photos preserves them like little time capsules—ready to make you smile, cry, or blackmail a sibling later. But don’t forget: while your camera can freeze a moment, only your presence can truly feel it. So snap the shot, then pocket the phone—some memories are best lived, not just saved.