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As I write this, I’m sitting in a hammock in Swaziland looking out at the clothes line. It’s month 8, and of everything I managed to stuf...
This is part two of a series of journal entries that I've written throughout my Race and have decided to make public. My hope is that letting my...
This month, my new team of six women got to work with an NGO in the small town of Ghanzi, Botswana. The ministry supports orphans and vulnerable child...
It was going on 8 o’clock and we hadn’t eaten dinner yet. But when the food’s this fresh, and you’re watching it being slow co...
*A note to the reader before reading: welcome to “dear diary,” a blog series I’m starting for the final three months of my World Rac...
Let’s get this straight: in case there was any confusion, I am not a preacher. I passed public speaking in college, but that doesn’t stop...
Never before had I felt blisters on the soles of my feet. The heels? Sure. But not the arches. The day prior we walked for eight hours. We set out mi...
I never thought this thing was going to be easy, but there were also moments this month where I said, “God, I didn’t know it was going to ...
Monday mornings he’s the dirtiest of all. He went home squeaky clean Friday afternoon, but after a weekend on the streets, Monday morni...
The day Taylor and I woke up for our dates with Dari and Tup, everything seemed to be against us. I felt so sick. But we got ready and walked down to...
