Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how much I’ve grown—not just in what I’m building, but in how I move through this journey. YumYumRunner™ has evolved in ways I couldn’t have predicted when I first started. What began as an idea has become something living, breathing, and deeply rooted in purpose. And somewhere along the way, without a single dramatic moment, I changed too.
Recently, I found myself mentally walking through my pitch deck—not to rehearse, not to impress anyone, but to understand it. To feel it. And that’s when it hit me: I wasn’t stumbling through the story anymore. I wasn’t searching for the words or second-guessing the direction. I knew exactly what I was saying and why I was saying it. For the first time, I felt grounded in it. Like I had finally found my footing.
That clarity didn’t come from confidence alone—it came from listening. From showing up to markets. From conversations held in parking lots and under tents at sunrise. From vendors admitting they’re tired. From creators quietly wondering if it’s worth continuing. From watching people who pour everything into what they make slowly lose faith in systems that were supposed to help them.
And somewhere in all of that, I realized something heavy and undeniable: I am carrying their voices now.
That realization landed at the same time the vendor interest forms began flowing in—and I can’t begin to describe what that feels like. Seeing those submissions come through has been overwhelming in the best possible way. It tells me that creatives and vendors are seeing this for what it is. That they know I’m right here with them. That this platform is being built for them, not around them.
Every form feels like a quiet “I see you too.” And after all the long nights, the tough decisions, and the endless moments of asking myself what am I doing?—it feels like things are finally coming into focus. All of the work, all of the doubt, all of the persistence is beginning to connect in a way I never could have forced.
I don’t carry that responsibility lightly.
I don’t see this as a position of power—I see it as a commitment. A promise to speak honestly, to build carefully, and to never forget who this exists for. Every decision, every word, every step forward has weight now because it doesn’t just represent me. It represents people who trusted me enough to share their stories, their fears, and their hope that something better is possible.
This journey has reshaped me. It’s made me more intentional. More patient. More protective. I don’t rush the work anymore—not because I’m afraid, but because I understand what’s at stake. When you’re building something meant to hold other people’s dreams, you move with care.
I don’t have all the answers. I’m still learning. Still adjusting. Still growing. But I know this much with absolute certainty: I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. And I will continue to show up with integrity, courage, and respect for the voices I now help carry forward.
This is bigger than me.
And I’m ready for that.