Golden hour, as recommended Engineer by trade,
runner by morning,
barista by necessity.
I'm a software engineer in Burlington, Ontario, and I like building things that genuinely ship — AI developer tools, community platforms, design systems, the occasional demo that makes a room of engineers lean forward. Most of it starts as a scribble after an early run.
Lately that means Vor, an AI code reviewer built on the Claude Agent SDK; a full engagement platform for a running and triathlon club; and a multi-platform design system whose React components render the page you're reading. Before that there were years of open source — React Native plugins, Cordova bridges, Meteor packages — from an era when "hybrid app" was still a fighting word.
Away from the keyboard I'm training for the Chicago Marathon on the trails around Hamilton and Burlington, walking the dogs, and chasing a repeatable nine-bar shot. Five marathons so far — Boston 2026 among them — plus one 99-kilometre day on the trails that I still think about. I write about the science of endurance in the field notes — sleep, fuelling, pacing, and what actually happens inside your head at kilometre thirty-five. The day-to-day training lives on Instagram and TikTok; the field notes are where the science ends up.
I believe in warm, open, honest work: leave the door open, share what you learn, and keep moving. The best ideas tend to arrive somewhere around kilometre ten. For the current answer to "so what are you up to?", there's a now page.
Three things the road taught me
Run the negative split
Start slower than your ego wants. In a marathon and in a project, the people who look patient at the start are the ones who look strong at the end.
Leave the door open
Share what you learn, write things down, and make the codebase a place someone new can walk into. Warmth is a technical decision too.
Ship, then improve
A thing that exists beats a thing that is perfect. Dialling in a flat white is a feedback loop — grind, dose, taste, adjust. Software works the same way.
The finish line is just where you stop counting. Everything you actually keep, you picked up along the way.
Coffee's on me.
Building something warm and ambitious? Tell me about it — I read every message.