Exercise physiologist by training, operator by instinct. I've spent a career moving toward the gaps that matter — and building the thing that actually helps the person in front of me.
I'm a builder, and I've always believed that the best thing you can build is a real solution to an actual problem, not a solution looking for a problem to justify it. That conviction has been the throughline of a career that has taken me across wildly different fields, and it has shaped how I show up in every one of them.
I started as an exercise physiologist because I wanted to solve my own problems; how do I run faster, how do I make my gear better? I was cutting track spikes apart, modifying them, regluing them back together just to see what was possible. But I quickly discovered that helping others was far more fulfilling — I went on to work with everyone from elite athletes chasing Olympic qualifying margins to pulmonary patients who simply wanted to breathe without supplemental oxygen. What I learned in those early years was that success belongs to the person you're working with, not to you. My job was to understand what they were trying to accomplish, what stood in their way, and how to communicate in a way that actually landed. That skill turned out to be the most portable thing I've ever developed.
It carried me into product development at Pearl Izumi, where I joined a newly formed advanced development team as a physiologist and eventually took over management of the department. The technical and the human were inseparable — instrumenting athletes in an environmental wind tunnel, testing membranes and yarns, and at the same time recognizing that the modern cyclist didn't see themselves in the brightly colored, skin-tight kit that had defined the sport for decades. I was part of the push that normalized neutral palettes and looser silhouettes for riders who wanted smiles, not grimaces — while running the human-subjects experiments that proved which solutions actually performed. Beyond the product work, I started skills-building clinics to develop the team around me, because the best results come when people feel genuinely connected to the mission and to each other.
From Pearl Izumi I moved into content and media at Fast Talk Laboratories, where I was simultaneously a face and voice of the company — podcasts, video, writing — and driving operations behind the scenes: contracts, the website, finances, office space, and leading an assessment of tasks versus roles that resulted in a team restructuring, making sure the right people were in the right seats. Then I joined Apeiron Research Center at the ground floor: two people with an idea and a conviction that patients should have access to promising treatments without a pharmaceutical company standing between them and their health. Building the organization meant building everything — the physical space, the regulatory framework, the staff — and I looked for people who fit not just the role but the mission. We grew it into a full clinical research operation oriented around patient-driven research rather than profit-driven research.
Today I lead operations across a medical clinic in a role that functions more like a chief of staff. I build physical spaces, launch new ventures, redesign systems, create the documentation and infrastructure that holds things together, and serve as the connective tissue that helps talented people work better as a team.
Making sure every individual feels heard and important to the mission isn't a management philosophy I adopted — it's how I've always operated.
The fields have changed. The approach hasn't. I show up, learn what's actually needed, fill the gaps that matter, and build things worth building.