Before the movie starts at El Capitan Theatre, the lights take center stage. This rare pre-show ritual blends color, sound, and presence inviting you to pause, reset, and arrive fully. It’s not just a show; it’s a moment of cinematic ceremony, and I captured it just as it unfolded.

Before the movie began, something rare happened: the curtain danced. At El Capitan Theatre in Hollywood, this pre-show ritual is more than a performance it’s a moment of cinematic ceremony. I captured it in one take, no edits, as a reminder that movement isn’t always about the body, sometimes, it’s about reverence, rhythm, and presence.

Before FormaFit had a name, I packed a bottle of my preworkout Amplificador, and flew to London. I didn’t know exactly what I was building, but I brought it with me anyway. I snapped photos of it on public bike racks, park benches, and train station walls. I carried it through movement, across a map, through the fog of uncertainty and family drama. I didn’t get the Franklin photos but I had the bottle. That was the real story I was living. That was the signal: something was already amplifying.

The commercial divers exhibit at the Maritime Museum wasn’t just a display, it was a portal into a world of extraordinary strength, danger, and legacy. Seeing the gear they wore, the weights they carried, and the environments they worked in was humbling. It made me reflect on how the infrastructure we benefit from today was quite literally built under pressure.

These divers weren't just brave-they were foundational! Their contributions helped create underwater infrastructure that supports our daily lives. As a diver myself (nowhere near their level), I can only imagine the physical and mental strength it took to do what they did.

Their tools were heavy. Their risk was high. Their impact was lasting. And they reminded me: Work is honorable.

A quiet walk beneath the largest bell in Korean history. Reflections on legacy, presence, and how peace, like grief, like strength, can echo far beyond words.

Zuma didn’t give us sun, but it gave us something better, a space to breathe. From water shoes on cold sand to supporting ice cream vendors by the shore, here’s why I show up even when the skies stay gray.

A walk on Redondo Pier turns into an unexpected moment of inspiration. From fresh seafood to California’s first surfer, here’s to bold steps and bolder ideas.

Back on the path where it all began this time on foot, in concrete runners, and fully in my power. I switched terrain, shoes, and strategy to keep the fire lit without burning out. Tomorrow? The beach gets this same energy.

We visited the Mulholland Scenic Overlook on a grey LA day, and in the quiet, I almost missed the Hollywood sign, until I took a second look. Today’s movement wasn’t about distance; it was about clarity, contribution, and the magic you only notice when you pause.

A walk through Silver Lake Reservoir reminded me that presence is power. From the open meadow to a quiet prayer box asking, “What are you thankful for?”, I moved slow, head down, heart open and I wrote one word: movement.

On National Maritime Day, I visited the USS Iowa, the Los Angeles Maritime Museum, and a war memorial by the harbor just as Fleet Week and Memorial Day weekend began. From honoring service to exploring untold stories, this post reflects on strength, resilience, and the people who give themselves to something greater. May we all be lucky enough to carry the strength to offer something and to move with it.

Today’s stride took me through LA’s past. The Old Zoo Trail in Griffith Park winds through abandoned enclosures, graffiti-covered structures, and hillside views of the city. Eerie but beloved, this hike is a strange and special piece of Los Angeles history and I walked it wearing my Hollywood cap, soaking it all in.

Sunday Stretch turned into a Sunday Stride through LA State Historic Park — a walk layered with motion, memory, and meaning. From Metro tracks to monarch weigh stations, concrete quotes to views of City Hall, this was more than a walk, it was a reminder that movement can connect us to place, history, and our own magic.

A quiet moment at the Bruce Lee statue in LA’s Chinatown reminded me why discipline matters and why movement is more than fitness. It’s legacy.

Golden hills covered in wild poppies reminded me that movement can also be wonder. This trail was pure joy; soft, bold, alive.