You. Can’t. Stop.

It’s been some time since my last post where I outlined my plans to run an awareness raiser so that more people can learn about Duchenne muscular dystrophy (DMD). Since that post, I’ve been busy getting some of the ideas around the awareness raiser into action and trying to walk as often as possible so that I can be somewhat ready for the walk.

I’m currently on school holidays (one of the perks of being a teacher), which has allowed me to get some decent-sized walks in each day. I’ve been getting up at 5am and have found a nice 12km loop that I’m able to complete in about 2 hours.

The past couple of days has been almost freezing. This morning, however, was not so cold, but it was raining and windy. I could hear the maelstrom from my bed as I was waking up and was tempted, only for a fraction of a second, mind you, to remain where I was. It was warm. Outside wasn’t. But I’ve found that my body really enjoys these early morning walks, so I got up and wrapped myself up in a few layers before putting on a newly purchased water-proof jacket.

_{Despite being a horrible morning for a walk it was psychologically fulfilling.}

I wouldn’t have been 20 minutes into the walk when the rain picked up to a steady downpour and while the water-proof jacket was holding up well, my shoes were getting a good drenching and I could feel the water seeping through my socks. At this point, I reckon I should have been at my lowest. It was wet, windy and cold, and my bottom half was getting a thorough soaking. My mind did start to consider the option of turning around and heading home to see if the weather would clear up in due course, but these thoughts only lasted for a few seconds before a much clearer, much stronger one demanded of me:

You Can’t Stop.

Unpacking this over the next couple of minutes, I came to the realisation that this walk I’m going to be doing in September will be difficult - I purposely designed it to be. But in that moment as the rain was peppering me, I realised that people with DMD, my son included, can’t just go home when they feel like it. They can’t just pack up their wheelchairs for a day because they don’t feel like using them in that moment, so who am I to think about quitting when the weather isn’t what I expect it to be? How could I even contemplate stopping?

It cemented in my mind that this walk is going to happen. I’m not going to stop until I’ve finished it. I can’t. The infantry corps in the Australian Army have a creed, or a mandate, or something. Part of it goes: ‘… to seize and hold ground regardless of season, weather or terrain.’ I will complete this walk regardless of ‘season, weather or strain’.

(As an aside, despite, or perhaps it was because of, the weather, I was able to walk some of the fastest kilometres I’ve done so far.