Blaze means two things, and this app needed both. It's the fire — the fuel you burn hour after hour to keep moving when everything tells you to stop. And it's the blaze on the trail: the painted mark that tells you you're still on the right line when the path disappears. Energy and direction. That's the whole sport — and it's the whole idea here.

I didn't come to the mountains as an athlete. I came after a diagnosis — multiple sclerosis — that turned moving my own body into something I could no longer take for granted. Running became the way I answered back, one kilometer at a time, and I learned fast that out there you run on exactly what you feed yourself: get the fuel wrong and the fire goes out, no matter how much heart you're carrying.

I got obsessed with nutrition because for me it was never optional — it was the line between finishing and stopping. Blaze is what I wish I'd had on day one: a plan to keep the fire lit, checkpoint after checkpoint, so nobody has to learn it the hard way. It isn't a concept. It's built, and it's here.