Five hundred girls in one school year is not the finish line. It is the beginning of what happens when a community decides prevention matters.

This year, for the first time ever, 500 girls registered for Girls on the Run — fall and spring combined.

Five hundred.

When I started, we had just served 43 girls in Fauquier County. I remember packing bins into my car. I remember wondering if anyone would sign up for the next season.

Now I’m sitting with that number, trying to understand what it actually means.

Because it isn’t just a milestone.

It’s 500 stories.

It sounds like:
“I didn’t think I could run that far.”
“I can do hard things.”
“I learned the power of not yet.”

Those phrases showed up again and again in our fall surveys. When we asked girls what they learned most, the top theme wasn’t speed. It wasn’t running form.

It was confidence.

And when we asked caregivers on our fall survey whether Girls on the Run was a valuable experience for their daughter, every single one who responded agreed.

Every. Single. One.

I had to read that twice.

Caregivers rated their daughters’ confidence before and again after the season, and they reported an increase.

But here’s what that looks like:

A girl who now raises her hand in class.
A girl who uses five-finger breathing when she’s overwhelmed.
A girl who finishes a 5K in 42 minutes after saying she could never finish it.

Eighty-five percent of caregivers said the program led to important conversations at home.

That matters deeply to me.

Because prevention doesn’t happen in a crisis.

It happens in conversations — in car rides home from practice, at dinner tables, on long runs with dad.

Ninety-nine percent of girls said they felt ready for the 5K.

Ready.

In a world where girls are increasingly anxious and unsure, that word carries weight.

Ready to run.
Ready to try.
Ready to stand in a crowded stadium and believe they belong.

We heard feedback too — about organization, hydration, and communication.

We’re listening. We’re working every day to better serve our girls, our families, and our community.

What doesn’t show up in the data is what it takes behind the scenes: two full-time staff members, one part-time team member, an army of volunteers across seven counties, and scholarships that ensure cost is never a barrier.

We are growing faster than is comfortable.

And we are doing it anyway.

Because five hundred girls deserve better every season.

Eighty-nine percent of coaches said coaching was a valuable experience. When asked why someone should coach, they didn’t talk about logistics. They talked about watching girls find their voice. They talked about that finish-line moment when a girl realizes,

“Oh. Yes, I can.”

Five hundred girls doesn’t just change girls.

It changes classrooms.
It changes teachers.
It changes families.
It changes communities.

And maybe, yes, it changes the world.

But here’s what 500 really tells me:

The need is bigger than anybody thought.

If 500 girls said yes, there are hundreds more still waiting.

Waiting for a coach to show up.
Waiting for someone to teach them how to handle big feelings.
Waiting to believe they belong.

Confidence is not a luxury.

Belonging is not optional.

Prevention is not extra.

It is essential.

Five hundred is not the headline.

It’s the floor.

So the real question is this:

How many more are possible?

If you believe the answer should be “as many as possible,” there is a place for you in this work.

Together, let’s create a world where every girl knows and activates her limitless potential.