Progress is not linear, but every road leads somewhere.
Three years ago, August 2023, I joined my brother for his weekly workouts at Town Athletics, a local running studio in Oakland focused on running fitness. I really enjoyed those sessions, not only because they were different from my regular routine (3 easy miles around Lake Merritt), but because I got to discover a new facet of running: speed. Our little cohort, my brother, one of our friends, and I, trained together for three months to run a mile time trial. The day came, October 2023, we ran, and I surprised myself with a 5:53. My initial goal had been 6:10, so when my coach called out that time, I could not believe it. The feeling of going so fast that you don’t have time to think, I wanted to feel that again.
I talked to my coach and told him I wanted to keep training, to keep getting faster, even though I wasn’t sure it was possible at 31. Our coach, Tinu, is amazing. If you don’t believe in yourself, he will absolutely help you change that. He said: let’s find some races and keep training. Our next goal: my first track meet at Laney College.
I had never run competitively in high school or college, unlike most of my friends from run clubs. I had no idea what a track meet looked like or what to expect. We followed the same approach, three months of training, two weekly speed workouts, one long distance day. I followed the plan, and in April 2024, the day arrived. With zero expectations, I found myself crossing the finish line at 5:23.14, a 5:47 mile pace. I had an incredible finish, passing people on the last lap, and that feeling of going so fast you don’t have time to think? It was there again.
Afterward, I went straight to my coach: I don’t want this to be the end. I want to keep training. I want a new goal.
There was another meet on the horizon, a big one, one I had only ever dreamed about because I never believed I could run that fast: the Mike Fanelli Classic at San Francisco State University. I checked the qualifying standards and got in with just two seconds to spare, the cutoff for the 1500m was 5:25. I had a year to prepare, and I was determined to make it count.
Two months after Laney, I got COVID. At first it felt like any seasonal bug, runny nose, sore throat, nothing out of the ordinary. Then one day, after taking BART and walking home, my left ear popped. Like when water gets trapped after swimming, and then suddenly releases. I felt a strange emptiness in that ear, but brushed it off, convinced it was nothing.
Two days later the sensation was still there. I went to the doctor, got some tests, and he confirmed I had lost 30% of my hearing capacity. I went through the standard treatment, but my hearing didn’t recover right away. I felt devastated, just months after feeling the strongest I’d ever been, my body felt broken. I couldn’t believe COVID had actually done this to me.
After three weeks of treatment, my hearing came back. But as our grandparents say: nothing is free. The treatment came with a side effect: 10 extra pounds.
I kept training, kept racing here and there, but the version of me from Laney felt very far away. I kept showing up, but the weight was hard on my body. I got injured and had to scale back on volume and intensity. My physical therapist was direct: it will be hard for you to race in the future if you don’t stop running. My answer: I need to race. My parents already booked their flights.
April 2025. Race day for the Mike Fanelli Classic arrived. My parents were in the bleachers, taking pictures the way they used to a decade ago when I was in college playing handball. The gun went off. I started running, and my body just didn’t respond. I finished last. But I finished happy, because I had made it to the place I used to only dream about.
At the end of the race, my coach said something that has stuck with me ever since: Think like an athlete. See you next week.
I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but I understood the spirit of it: let the past be the past. Focus on the present.
New season, new goals. I started going to the gym more consistently, partly because I realized rest alone wasn’t healing my injury, and partly because I wanted to spend more time with friends who had been going there for over a year. Then summer 2025 arrived with a great opportunity: I was invited to join the Renegade-HOKA Kodiak team, a group of 40 women from LA and Oakland training together to race the Kodiak Big Sur race.
My endurance started coming back. My injury began to ease. And I felt something I hadn’t felt since college: the energy of a team of women all chasing the same goal, an ultra trail race.
When I was at university in Mexico (Universidad Autónoma de Aguascalientes), I was part of the handball varsity team. It was one of the best parts of my college experience, the conversations during practice, the road trips to compete against other schools, the celebrations. Sometimes you’re not getting stronger on your own, but the people around you make you feel strong, and you end up believing them, and you end up actually becoming stronger. That’s what happened with the Kodiak team. Those hills we climbed together made me feel fast again. My confidence climbed alongside my fitness.
I never stopped going to track workouts either. Trail running is fun, but track is a different game, and I didn’t want to neglect that part of my journey.
October 2025. The Kodiak race came and went. Every teammate had an amazing race. We celebrated not just the finish lines, but the people we had become through the process. I am so grateful to HOKA, Renegade, and everyone involved. You gave me back a spark I thought I had lost.
Back on the track, my coach scheduled a 1500m time trial. I didn’t have high expectations, I’d been splitting my focus between trail and track and wasn’t fully committed to either. But I started running, felt good, and looked down at my watch: 5:13. A PR. I was back.
December 2025. My coach mentioned that Laney College was recruiting for their track team and asked, half joking, if I’d join if invited. It was a no-brainer. The chance to run track every week, to belong to a team again, to be part of a group of women who support each other? Best decision I’ve ever made.
Injuries, of course, never fully leave. That’s the price athletes pay for chasing goals, and I believe it’s worth it every time. I started the season with an Achilles injury. Workouts got harder to complete, my splits didn’t look great, and my coach moved me from the 1500m to the 800m. I was fine with that. I’d never done collegiate track, so I was open to trying everything.
February 2026. Our first meet: Merritt College. I had taken three weeks off because the injury had gotten bad. I showed up with no expectations, just hoping not to get lapped. Then my body reminded me that willpower is a real force and we should never underestimate it. I started last and finished third, running 2:37 when I’d been targeting 2:45. I was back, and ready for the rest of the season.
I’ve been competing for Laney for nearly three months now, across six track meets. After the third meet, with my injury finally improving, my coach moved me back to the 1500m. I had unfinished business there.
The meet was at San Mateo. I started in the second heat with no particular expectations, just hoping to stay competitive. The race started, I settled near the front of the pack, finished strong on the final lap, and ended up first in my heat, third overall. I really needed that. Earlier that day, I had gotten a call from a company I’d been hoping to join, and received a rejection. But running gave me a small spark of joy and a reminder of what life is: ups and downs. The important thing is to keep showing up.
Next came Modesto. This time I had a clear objective: run below 5:20 to qualify for the Mike Fanelli Classic again, my redemption race. I went out too fast, hit a PR at the 800m mark, but then my legs gave out. My heart carried me the rest of the way. I crossed the line at 5:14. I made it.
Last week, April 2026. The Mike Fanelli Classic arrived. I had gotten sick two days before, so expectations were low. But I got ready, admired my WRC white jersey, laced up my spikes, and kept repeating my splits in my head: 1:10, 2:24, 3:47. I walked to the start line still whispering them. The gun went off.
300 meters: 1:10. Yes. Let’s go. 800 meters: 2:24. Perfect. Finish: 3:47. 5:10.66.
I went from 5:35 to 5:10. I was over the moon.
This is a lesson I never want to forget: progress is not linear, and it matters deeply how you think about yourself along the way.
Life has been hard in 2026. I lost my job, got injured, faced rejections that genuinely hurt. The world feels heavy, AI reshaping everything, global tensions, rising costs. Oakland, the city I love, is going through its own struggles: businesses closing, hardship everywhere you look. But even in the darkest places, there is light: God, my family, my friends, my community (WRC, OTC, Renegade, YMCA), my coach, my teammates (Go Laney! Go Eagles!), my former colleagues, the volunteers at Community Kitchen. Myself.
I want to take a moment to thank my community, because it has never once left me alone.
I want to start with God. For always being there, even when I can’t see it in the moment.
A few weeks before I lost my job, I had been thinking about buying new running shoes, mine were over two years old and well past their prime. Then the job was gone, and so was that idea. I had to be smart with money. That was that.
A few weeks later, Renegade hosted an urban race. I showed up purely for the free pizza and to cheer on friends, no expectations, no agenda. Somehow I ended up joining a relay team. We finished second. And with that second place came a brand new pair of shoes.
God is there. He is always there. Not always in the ways you plan for, but always right on time.
My family, first and always. My parents, who send me a good morning text every single day without fail. My brother, whose advice I carry with me even when he can’t be at the finish line, I can always hear his voice: Con determinación. Así es, con determinación. (Do it with determination. That’s all. Determination.) And my little sister, who keeps me grounded by sharing the latest tea about Hollywood actors, pulling my brain away from adult worries exactly when I need it most.
My WRC family, who have never stopped showing up for me. I will never forget the moment I broke my arm and received a DoorDash gift card from them. That gesture said everything. I am grateful every single day for having WRC in Oakland.
My friends, especially Marin, Ale, Caro, Cristina, Imanol, Priyanka, and Katherine. Being far from family is one of the hardest things about building a life in a new place, until you find people who fill that space so completely that you stop noticing the distance. Thank you for always being there. Thank you for seeing me cry and still finding a way to make me laugh. You are gems in my life, every single one of you.
To my former colleagues, for their kind messages and warm wishes during a difficult season.
To Jueves de Tacos, for keeping my spark alive, reminding me that dancing, singing, and tacos can always heal a heavy heart.
To Otto and Genaro, for being father figures to this running community. For always checking in on my brother and me, for the words of encouragement that landed exactly when we needed them, and for making Oakland feel like home. You remind us that community is not just about the miles we share, but about the people who show up for you off the track too.
To my teammate Stef, for always smiling after the hardest workouts, it matters more than you know.
To my coach Tinu, for never letting me forget that I should think like an athlete, even when I wasn’t sure I was one.
And to Oakland, for being exactly what it is, always.
Running has taught me that life is full of ups and downs, and what matters is not just showing up, but showing up with determination, with confidence, with joy, and above all, knowing that you have your own back. If you have yourself, everything else becomes possible.
Three weeks from now, we’ll have our final track meet of the season. It might go well. It might not. But no matter the outcome, I will keep showing up. I will keep trying. I will keep working hard.
And most importantly, I will always have my back.
Daniela Fernandez 