Lacing Up for a New Season.

Sprinting Toward Spring.

This weekend, I ran the Sprint to Spring 5K at George M. Steinbrenner Field. There’s a special magic in being inside a baseball stadium before the season officially begins. The seats were empty. The grass was freshly cut. The astroturf felt thicker than normal. The air felt crisp.

Baseball has always resembled my life. It taught me how to stand in the batter’s box when I didn’t know what was coming, how to adjust to curveballs I never asked for, and how to believe in comebacks after hard losses. When life felt chaotic, the game gave me stability. Running through Steinbrenner Field reminded me that every new season begins the same way: we show up, we trust our work, and we step back onto the field.

Running inside that stadium, I kept thinking about how grief works the same way. We don’t “arrive” at healing. We show up. We warm up. We build endurance. Some seasons we feel strong, while others feel like we’re just striking out. It reminded me of when my dad passed away, and I was in my last semester in graduate school. I’d take the train, and tears would just keep streaming down my face. Then I’d walk toward the school and remind myself: though this feels heavy, I still have to keep one foot in front of the other.

And then, as if the universe wanted to sprinkle in a little magic...

I met Didi Gregorius. Sir Didi is my second-favorite shortstop. Oh, the nostalgia. He was cheering and smiling as runners trickled by. When I asked for a photo, he stated I was the first person to ask. I thanked him for his contributions to the Yankees and baseball. He grinned, shook my hand, and I felt a little piece of springtime luck.

In just a few days, I’ll be back at the stadium for Spring Training’s opening game at Steinbrenner Field.

The older I get, the more I understand that hope is steady. It’s lacing up your sneakers even when seasons feel long. It’s showing up at the starting line. It’s trusting your body and heart again. It’s trusting life again. Wherever you are, I hope you’ll trust your own process. Take a small step, however it looks for you. You’re moving forward, too.

Grief and baseball taught me about endings and new seasons.

Running reminded me that even when you’re not sprinting, you’re still moving forward.

In service and with love, Jess

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