I started running in Venezuela when I was just 15 years old. In high school, I was part of the athletics federation, and over the years I competed in some of the most important races in my country.

My last marathon was when I was 27 — the Caracas Marathon — where I finished in 3:37.

After my second pregnancy at 30, I stopped running. I stayed active at the gym and occasionally ran a few kilometers in the park just to clear my mind, but life had shifted.

In 2017, I arrived in this country at 45 years old, starting over as an immigrant without knowing anyone. It wasn’t easy. I worked very hard, and in 2022 I was finally able to bring my family with me.

That was the moment I told myself: It’s time to run again.

And that’s how I returned to the world of running — stronger, wiser, and more determined than ever.

The Boston Marathon is not just a race to me. It is a promise, a dream, and an immigration story.

I started running at a very young age in Venezuela, but after turning 25, I learned about the most iconic marathon in the world. From that moment on, Boston became a distant dream.

In 2017, I arrived in the United States as an immigrant. I stepped into Boston’s airport with one suitcase and 100 dollars in my pocket. I remember calling my mom and saying,

“Mom, I’m in Boston… where the most important marathon in the world is run.”

She replied,

“Daughter, forget about that and work so that one day we can see each other again.”

Life was hard. My family was in Panama. But the dream never died.

Immigrant life is not easy. Sometimes dreams feel like luxuries. But some dreams don’t die — they wait.

In 2025, I made it happen. I ran my first Boston Marathon.

At mile 12, I tore the meniscus in my right knee. The pain was brutal, especially in the last six miles. But I didn’t stop.

And when I reached Boylston Street, waving the Venezuelan flag in the final stretch, I understood something:

I wasn’t just crossing a finish line.

I was honoring my story.

My sacrifice.

My country.

My family.

Boston didn’t just make me a marathoner.

It made me stronger. 

What excites me most about running is not just the finish line — it’s who I become along the way.

Every time I lace up my running shoes, I’m not just getting ready for miles — I’m reconnecting with my purpose. I run for the woman I used to be, for the immigrant who arrived with uncertainty, and for the dreamer who refused to let go of her goals.

What excites me most is knowing that every mile tells a story of resilience.

And when I wear my Wonder Woman outfit, it’s not just a costume — it’s a statement. It reminds women that strength and femininity coexist. That we can be powerful, vulnerable, determined, and graceful all at once. I wear it because I want other women to see themselves as heroes in their own stories.

I tie my shoes with passion because running is my freedom.

I run because it makes me feel alive.

I run because it shows other women that no matter where you start — you can finish strong.

For me, running is not just a sport.

It’s empowerment in motion.

I would love to tell my fellow runners this:

Never underestimate the power of your own story.

Running is not just about pace, medals, or finish times. It’s about who you become every time you refuse to quit. I learned that deeply when I ran the Boston Marathon and had to fight through pain after tearing my meniscus at mile 12. What carried me to the finish line wasn’t my legs — it was my purpose.

There will be miles in life that hurt. There will be seasons when you feel behind, unseen, or doubting yourself. Keep going anyway.

Run your race.

Honor your journey.

And remember why you started.

And especially to the women: you are stronger than you think. You don’t have to choose between being powerful and being feminine. You can be both. Tie your shoes with confidence. Take up space. Be visible. Be bold.

Whether you’re running your first mile or your biggest marathon, know this: every step forward is proof that you didn’t give up on yourself.

Keep running — not just toward a finish line, but toward the strongest version of you 

It's part of my story as a runner. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of you.