Six Things That Built the Foundation Before the Growth

By Daphne Kirkwood, Founder of iDaph Events

By 2010, the ideas were no longer just living in my head.

For years, I had been immersed in the endurance world — racing, volunteering, serving on boards, sitting in meetings, helping with events, and quietly studying what worked and what didn’t. Somewhere along the way, I stopped simply participating and started building systems in my mind.

But at the same time, life was also applying pressure.

Financial pressure.

Emotional pressure.

The pressure of trying to build stability for myself and my two kids after divorce.

And looking back now, this was the season where everything started coming together.

Not all at once.

Not cleanly.

But piece by piece.

Over time, six things built the foundation before the growth.

1. Pressure forced me to get serious about building a future

After my divorce, life felt incredibly uncertain.

I remember going to Carrier Park one warm afternoon with a blanket, stacks of credit card statements, and a calculator. I sat beside the French Broad River trying to add everything up and figure out how much debt I was actually carrying.

At the time, I had been listening to financial books like The Automatic Millionaire, trying to understand how people slowly climbed their way out of debt and created financial stability. But sitting there that day, it felt overwhelming.

I wasn’t making enough money to comfortably cover everything.

And there was no quick fix.

At the same time, I was navigating the emotional weight of parenting through very difficult circumstances and trying to help my children process things no child should have to process.

It was heavy.

But strangely, even in that season, I never really thought someone else was coming to rescue me.

I believed it was my responsibility to figure it out.

Not overnight.

Not quickly.

But eventually.

That mindset had been planted in me long before iDaph ever existed.

2. I was raised to believe you could figure things out

I grew up in a family of entrepreneurs.

My parents were incredibly supportive and encouraging my entire life. They praised effort, celebrated ideas, and taught me confidence long before there was any proof of success.

When Dig the Du launched years later, they came out and volunteered to support me because that’s simply who they were.

My mom used to say:

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

That mindset stayed with me.

If something didn’t work, you adapted.

You found another way.

Plan B.

Plan C.

Plan D.

Honestly, that philosophy became part of the DNA of iDaph long before there was ever a company.

3. FastPivot gave me the freedom to dream bigger

For years, I worked at Biltmore and believed I would eventually transition into a full-time role there once my youngest child entered kindergarten.

But when the time came, the opportunity I thought would be waiting for me no longer existed.

So I pivoted.

I left Biltmore and joined a small e-commerce company called FastPivot, helping run business operations. Looking back, that season became incredibly important.

Not just professionally.

Personally too.

The environment gave me flexibility.

Room to think.

Room to build.

Room to dream bigger.

And my boss, Matt, became an unexpected encourager of what I was creating. Around that time, he started calling me the ‘Daphanator’ — a funny nickname that somehow stuck for a while.

He was a runner and triathlete himself, and even though supporting iDaph could eventually mean losing me as an employee someday, he still cheered me on anyway.

That mattered.

At FastPivot, systems started clicking for me on a much deeper level.

Processes.

Operations.

People in the right roles.

Virtual teams working together instead of everyone needing to sit inside the same office.

Creating repeatable systems that could actually sustain and scale themselves.

I was also introduced to project management software for the first time, which was a total gamechanger for me. I didn’t even have a team yet to assign things to — I was using it for myself and organizing races — but suddenly I could map out entire events, build timelines, organize moving parts, and track every detail in one place.

I had always loved technology. I was fascinated by the internet from the very beginning — early chat rooms, online communities, and the way technology could connect people and ideas. So stepping into the e-commerce world and being exposed to all of those systems and tools felt incredibly exciting and eye-opening to me.

Before long, I was building races inside that software with massive to-do lists, workflows, and timelines.

I realized I wasn’t just interested in events.

I was interested in building something that worked.

Somewhere during that season, the business finally started becoming real.

4. iDaph finally got its name — and its identity

Ironically, one of the hardest parts was figuring out what to call the business.

I wanted to do things correctly from the beginning. I had gone to school for business, and I wasn’t interested in building something haphazardly. I’m a rule follower by nature. I wanted the company to feel legitimate and professional from day one.

But I couldn’t come up with a name.

One day, my friend Jonathan suggested using my own name since “Daphne” was unique and memorable. It was also around the time iPhones were becoming popular, and somehow “iDaph” was born.

At the time, I honestly didn’t think people would even recognize the company name.

I assumed people would know the races.

Not the person behind them.

I had no idea what iDaph would eventually become.

During those same FastPivot years, a graphic designer named Nikki created the original blue star logo that still remains part of the iDaph brand today.

I’ve always loved stars.

But over time, that symbol came to represent something much bigger to me.

To me, stars represent showing up as your best self each and every day. In order to glow and shine brightly, you have to feel good — physically, mentally, emotionally. Running had helped me through some of the hardest seasons of my life. It helped steady my anxiety, clear my mind, and pull me through the mire of everything I was carrying at the time.

Movement became part of how I healed.

The star became a reminder of that.

A guiding light.

Not just for myself, but for how I wanted to show up through this business and within the community around me.

I wanted iDaph to feel positive.

Encouraging.

Healthy.

Welcoming.

Hopeful.

A source of light during difficult seasons.

That star became a reminder of the kind of company I wanted iDaph to be.

Not just organized.

Not just professional.

A positive force.

5. Dig the Du became the proving ground

Around that same time, an opportunity appeared that quietly changed everything.

Someone approached me about helping create a brand-new multisport event on private property near DuPont Forest called Dig the Du.

The concept was unique.

A little rugged.

A little unconventional.

And I immediately said yes.

Honestly, I charged very little because I simply wanted the opportunity to learn and prove to myself that I could actually do this.

Dig the Du became the first event I truly helped build from the ground up.

Route planning.

Course flow.

Safety.

Landowner coordination.

Participant experience.

Logistics.

All of it.

And people loved it.

The event only lasted a few years — not because anything went wrong, but because hosting races on private property required an enormous amount of preparation and upkeep for the family who owned the land.

And once again, I saw the same pattern I had been observing for years:

If something isn’t sustainable, eventually it disappears.

That lesson stayed with me.

6. I knew the experience mattered more than the extras

Even early on, I had big dreams for what events could someday become.

Entertainment.

Atmosphere.

Creativity.

Energy.

Experiences that felt memorable and meaningful.

But in the beginning, I kept my focus incredibly simple.

Build good courses.

Make them safe.

Keep people from getting lost.

That mattered more to me than bells and whistles.

Maybe because I still remembered what it felt like standing at my very first race years earlier — nervous, unsure, and afraid I didn’t belong.

I never wanted participants to feel unsupported or confused.

The details mattered because people mattered.

And looking back now, I can see something clearly:

iDaph wasn’t built from one giant leap.

It was built slowly.

Methodically.

Piece by piece.

One race.

One lesson.

One relationship.

One system at a time.

Built from scratch.

And somewhere during those early years, without fully realizing it yet…

I stopped wondering whether I could build something meaningful.

And started believing I already was.

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