When my dad called to tell me that my stepmother had been diagnosed with kidney disease, it was during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, a time already marked by collective uncertainty, isolation, and fear. While she and I weren’t particularly close, I knew the diagnosis was serious. When he mentioned that she would likely need a kidney transplant, I felt an immediate and clear moral pull: I needed to get tested.
I didn’t feel heroic or extraordinary. I wasn’t seeking a story. But I did believe that when someone in your family is in need, you show up. That’s what love and responsibility look like in action. As I moved through the testing process, I expected to be disqualified at some point. Instead, the opposite happened. The medical team told me I was a near-perfect match, almost as close as a biological relative. That sealed the decision for me: I would donate.
Living in Charlottesville, Virginia, I serve as the lead pastor of Wesley Memorial United Methodist Church, a role I continue to hold today. I was active and health-conscious, and had recently begun training for a half-marathon. Running had become a new passion of mine, a way to take care of both body and soul. I had dreams of longer distances and more structured training, but I worried. Would donating a kidney end those plans? Would I still be able to run the way I wanted to?
The surgery itself went smoothly. My stepmother’s body accepted the kidney, and her health improved quickly. That alone made everything worth it. My recovery required patience and humility. I was used to movement and progress, and those first few weeks of slow walking were a real shift in rhythm. But with rest, hydration, and a plant-based diet supporting me, I healed steadily.
Gradually, I returned to running. First short walks. Then jogs. Then miles. That original half-marathon goal? I met and then exceeded it. Since donation, I’ve run multiple half-marathons and have stepped into an entirely new world: triathlons. I began swimming and cycling, eventually completing both a sprint and an Olympic-distance triathlon. Now, my sights are set on an Ironman. The journey that started with a single kidney donation has become a journey of athletic transformation.
Donating a kidney didn’t slow me down- it launched me forward. It made me more mindful of my health, more aware of my body’s needs, and more grateful for every mile I get to run, swim, or ride. I pay more attention now to hydration and recovery. I schedule regular labs and check-ups to keep tabs on my kidney function. But I don’t feel limited. If anything, I feel more alive than ever.
There have been moments of challenge. Fatigue, lingering soreness, and mental doubt, but they’ve been far outweighed by moments of pride, joy, and awe. Donating a kidney reshaped my understanding of strength. It’s not just about physical endurance or racing accomplishments. It’s about showing up when it counts. It’s about giving even when it’s uncomfortable. It’s about love in action.
To those wondering if they’re strong enough, fit enough, or close enough to someone to consider donating, I hope my story offers encouragement. You don’t need to be a professional athlete. You don’t need to have the perfect relationship. You just need a willingness to give and the trust that life on the other side can be even richer than before.
