In May of 2025, I lost my brother.

He was three years older than me—someone I looked up to, laughed with, and assumed would always be there. He struggled with his mental health, quietly and privately. Like so many others, he didn’t reach out for help or support.

There’s no single sentence that can capture what it’s like to lose someone you love to something so invisible, so internal, and yet so devastating. What I’ve learned since his passing is that this story is heartbreakingly common, especially among men. Too many people suffer in silence. Too many believe they have to carry the weight alone. Too many never get the chance to feel relief, support, or hope.

That is why I’m running the Berlin Marathon in 2026 for Movember.

Movember’s mission—to improve men’s mental health and prevent suicide—hits deeply close to home. Mental health struggles don’t always look the way we expect them to. They don’t always come with warning signs or cries for help. Sometimes they live behind humor, responsibility, strength, or silence. My brother was not weak. He was not broken. He was human. He deserved support, understanding, and access to help.

Running 26.2 miles is an immense physical challenge, but it pales in comparison to the invisible battles so many face every day. This marathon is my way of honoring my brother’s life, carrying his memory forward, and doing something tangible in the face of loss. Each mile represents the conversations we need to have more openly, the stigma we must continue to break down, and the lives we can still help save.

By fundraising for Movember, I’m supporting programs that encourage men to speak up, seek help, and know they’re not alone. Programs that invest in early intervention, education, and community support—so fewer families have to experience the pain mine has.

If you choose to donate, you’re not just supporting my run, you’re contributing to a future where mental health is taken seriously, where asking for help is seen as strength, and where fewer lives are lost to silence. You’re helping fund resources that could be the difference for someone who feels like there’s no way forward.

I run with my brother in my heart, with grief that has reshaped me, and with hope that we can do better—for him, and for everyone still fighting their battles.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading. And thank you for supporting this cause.