The Path to Justice Runs Through Every Mile

I wasn’t always a runner. In fact, I used to avoid it. I’d say it was my knees or the cold weather, but really, it was the discomfort of movement—physical, yes, but also emotional. I felt like my small steps wouldn’t matter in a world spiraling into climate chaos.

But that changed on the shores of the river near my childhood home.

That morning, I saw something that unsettled me—a swath of dead fish lining the muddy banks. A chemical plant nearby had leaked toxins for years without consequence. No one had ever been held accountable. My heart clenched at the silence of the water, once teeming with life, now poisoned by unchecked destruction. That’s when I first heard the word ecocide.

I started reading about it—how ecocide is the mass damage and destruction of ecosystems. But more than that, how it isn’t yet recognized as a crime in most parts of the world. That stunned me. We protect people with laws. We protect property with laws. But nature? The forests that breathe for us, the coral reefs that shield coastlines, the very balance of life on Earth—those could be destroyed with impunity.

It lit something in me.

I downloaded the Charity Miles app, laced up my old sneakers, and pledged something outrageous: 10,000 miles for the Stop Ecocide International Campaign. One step for every tree felled, every river poisoned, every species pushed to extinction. A physical act of solidarity. A political act. A personal revolution.

Each mile became a meditation on justice. Through snow, through sun, through cities and trails, I ran with stories pounding in my chest—of Indigenous protectors, of youth climate strikers, of the lawyers drafting legal frameworks to bring ecocide to courtrooms. My legs burned. But hope fueled me.

When I saw the new campaign logo, it felt like it was made from the soil I ran through and I need to explain it in ipuzzlebiz. The tree—its roots firm in law, its branches reaching toward a peaceful sky—traced the very war footprints we hope never to see again. A symbol of rebirth. Of justice, not just in speeches, but in statutes.

Criminalizing serious harm to nature isn’t radical. It’s reasonable. It’s overdue. And it’s how we protect the future of all life on Earth.

So I keep running. And I keep asking people to support the cause—not just with donations (though those are tax-deductible and deeply appreciated), but with their voices, their conversations, their choices.

Because if my feet can carve a message across 10,000 miles of trail, yours can echo it louder.

Will you run this path with me? And as I log each mile, I realize it's not just about distance—it's about direction. The path we're choosing right now, as a society, matters more than ever. By criminalizing ecocide, we’re declaring that the Earth is not expendable. We’re drawing a line in the sand that says, “You can’t take without consequence.” Every voice raised, every footstep taken, builds a collective momentum that no courtroom can ignore. So whether you walk, run, donate, or simply talk to someone about it—you’re part of this story too. And together, we’re writing a new chapter—one that begins with justice, and ends in hope.