In October 2024, our lives changed in a way we never expected.

My wife, Maria, and I were in the NICU with twin babies we were planning to privately adopt. We held them, bonded with them, and began imagining life as their parents. Then, suddenly, the private adoption fell through.

Because a private adoption was assumed to be in place, the Department of Children and Families (DCF) had not been actively working the case. When that plan collapsed, everything became urgent. We were approached and asked to foster the twins because there was no other plan in place. After everything we had already been through with them in the NICU, we knew we couldn’t walk away. We said yes.

We were told the twins would likely remain in the NICU for at least 60 days, giving us time to prepare. Sixteen days later, we were told one twin would be discharged the very next day. Nineteen days later, the second followed. At that point, the case still hadn’t gone to court and custody hadn’t been formally established. Even DCF was surprised, and everything had to be expedited in under 24 hours.

We suddenly found ourselves scrambling for car seats, supplies, and answers — all while not knowing if we would be caring for these babies for a week or forever. As emergency foster parents, family could come forward at any time. We didn’t hesitate to spend money, but the uncertainty made every decision heavy.

Just weeks earlier, we had learned our septic field had failed and needed immediate replacement, resulting in nearly $60,000 in unexpected expenses. We had also already invested significantly in the private adoption process that ultimately didn’t happen.

Emotionally, financially, and mentally, we were overwhelmed.

During this time, we were deeply supported by our family and our community. Our Be CrossFit family, our Sculpt Shop community, and the people around us showed up in countless personal ways — checking in, offering encouragement, and reminding us we weren’t alone.

But within the system itself, we felt confused, overwhelmed, and unsupported.

The hospital was asking us to take the babies home. DCF was working to sort out court hearings, custody, Medicaid, and foster approval — all at once. We were first-time parents and first-time foster parents, navigating newborn life with almost no direction.

Then Hands and Feet showed up.

They were the first and only organization in the system to call us and ask a simple but powerful question: “What do you need?” Shortly after, they arrived at our home with diapers, onesies, bottles, and bags of essential supplies — support with no conditions, no red tape, and no hesitation.

That moment mattered more than we can properly explain. At a time when we didn’t even know what we needed, Hands and Feet did.

This challenge — The 8-Minute Mission: Showing Up One Mile at a Time — exists because Hands and Feet showed up for our family when it mattered most. By turning daily training into a fundraiser, we hope to raise awareness and support for an organization that provides real, immediate help to foster families during some of the hardest moments of their lives.

Every mile is for the families who need someone to show up.
Every dollar helps Hands and Feet do exactly that.