You wear many hats — artist, ultra-athlete, activist, writer... Which of those roles came first, and how did one lead to the others?

Art came first: creation was my first language. Sport followed as a physical extension of the same drive to explore and test limits, always through an artist’s gaze. Engagement emerged when I understood that personal experience could resonate beyond the self and take on a collective dimension.

Was there a moment when you realized they were all part of the same path?

I realized it through ultra-endurance. Creation and long-distance effort meet in the same place: a solitary dialogue with one’s deepest self. Both require going inward, slowing down internally, and entering into conversation with oneself and with the world.

When I run, I do so with an artist’s gaze, attentive to what the body and the landscapes are revealing. That is when the separation dissolved. I understood that the universe is present in every living thing, and that the role of the artist is to act as an intermediary: to reveal a direction, to remind us that the whole lives within each part, and that every gesture carries something larger than itself.

When you take on a new challenge — starting a new painting, sculpting something from zero, or facing a blank page — what does your creative process look like?

My process starts with observation and listening. I let sensations guide the first steps before defining any form or direction. I work through repetition and adjustment, allowing the work to evolve rather than forcing outcomes. Just like in endurance sport, I move forward without a fixed plan, trusting the body and the process to reveal clarity over time.

The UN Race for Women just took place— what does this race mean to you, and what do you hope women felt when they crossed the finish line?

This event is not about performance, but about presence and rights.

It is a collective act where women reclaim space: physically, socially, and symbolically. I hope women complete the run feeling grounded, legitimate, and connected: to their bodies, to one another, and to their own power.

It is a reminder that movement can be political, gentle, and collective, while remaining deeply personal.

Beyond the finish line, what are you personally running toward?

I have never run toward a finish line. I run toward meaning. Toward alignment.

I run to carry a message that we can choose. Choose to try. Choose to dare. Choose to take up space, as women, without apology.

Following your instinct seems central to how you move through sport, art and activism. What does that mean to you in practice? How do you quiet external noise when making big decisions?

For me, instinct is built through experience and solitude. External noise tends to fade when values are clear. When making decisions, I don’t ask myself what will look good or be well received — I ask what feels true and aligned.

While you travel the world, you hang your hat in Paris. What are your go-to spots to:

• refuel post training: Steel Coffee Shop: good quality coffee, simple and nourishing food and friends.
• enjoy a quiet Parisian breakfast: Early mornings in neighborhood cafés, when the city is still slow: Bonjour Jacob, Ten Bells, Partisans.
• get inspired: Walks without destination, Bourdelle Museum’s gardens, long meditative rides.
• run or ride: The quais of the Seine, especially at sunrise.
• work on your next project: Anywhere with natural light, a notebook, and space to think. What matters most is calm, not location.
  
  

Which Jimmy Lion designs are more you?

I’m drawn to designs inspired by art and expression; pieces that tell a story, like those in the Animal Instinct Collection.

If you had to describe Jimmy Lion in 3 words, what would they be and why? 

Creative: for its strong connection to art and self-expression.

Bold: for blending performance with personality.

Playful: for proving that joy and seriousness can coexist.

Thanks socks much for reading!