After my diagnosis, something shifted in me. I realized I didn’t want this to just be my story. I didn’t want Parkinson’s to be something that happened to me and then faded into the background of my life, something I just dealt with quietly in isolation. I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to be involved in the community. I wanted to fight back in a way that felt meaningful, not just for myself but for others, too.
So, I started looking. I had no real plan in mind—just the vague thought that maybe I could raise awareness, or funds, or simply contribute in some way. The first thing I Googled was marathons. I then remembered that I wasn’t anywhere near being in marathon shape. I mean, I could barely get through the warm up of a Peloton ride. But I kept looking.
I landed on 5Ks. That felt more doable—more within my reach. As I scrolled through the list of events, I found one that caught my eye—the Michael J. Fox Foundation’s 5K Run/Walk. It was happening in just a few months.
I sent a message to my family group chat, the one that’s constantly pinging with notifications. It’s a little chaotic, as you can imagine. My sister sending endless articles of the next cancerous food or type of plastic, as she campaigns for us to all go organic. My mom is always a few years behind the latest trends and sends Instagram reels as if they’re fresh news, even though they’ve already been passed around by everyone else. And then there’s my dad, who’s retired and has apparently decided that sending blurry, close-up photos of food with captions like, “Guess what this is?” is his new job. He’s great at his new job-probably up for a promotion soon.
When I texted them about the MJFF 5K, every single one of them was on board without hesitation.
I was still thinking I was going to run the race. Maybe I did, maybe I walked. But it didn’t matter. The point wasn’t to run—it was to participate, to take part in something bigger than myself, to feel connected to a community of people who understood what it meant to face this disease head-on.
On race day, the energy was palpable. There was something about being surrounded by so many people who were all fighting the same fight, whether they were walking for their own loved ones or living with Parkinson’s themselves.
My team ended up raising just short of $10,000 for Parkinson’s research. The sense of accomplishment, of being part of something bigger, was inspiring. But more than anything, it was the community that left an impression on me. It wasn’t just about the money, or even the walk—it was about the people, the families, the connections, the way we all came together to show up for each other. And while the journey with Parkinson’s isn’t easy, I now know I don’t have to face it alone. I have a community. And together, we’re stronger.
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