Anyone who has lost a loved one to ALS can agree that it's a cruel disease. You lose every physical ability -- even the ability to breathe -- all while being perfectly clear of mind. 

Mom died of ALS in 2019. She was lucky, in a way. She survived beyond the typical 2 to 5 years — long enough to see the birth of her granddaughter. She insisted on coming to the hospital that day, even though she had lost all ability to use her limbs or even hold up her head. She relied on her breathing machine nearly 24 hours a day at that point. 

Dad guided her power chair into the room. I swaddled our 8-pounds of new life and held her cheek-to-cheek with a grandmother she would never know. In that moment, we figured mom wouldn't be around long enough to see this child start to crawl. Tears streaked down my cheeks and splashed on both of them. This scene is seared into my memory, and over the years it has come to remind me that being there is all we can really do. 

She would never hold this child, but she had to be there.

Unfortunately, our family has been touched again by this disease with no known cause or cure. My brother's mother-in-law, Yvonne Dollar-Perry, is suffering intensely. There is not much we can do to relieve the suffering. But we can be there. So the kids and I are going back to Delaware this year to do some miles in memory of mom and in honor of Yvonne. 

The team is still accepting recruits!

We'll raise some money too. And while most people focus on how funding might help find a cure, I think the strongest reason to give is to support the services offered by the ALS Association. When families like mine are struggling with next steps or in need of specialized home health equipment, the local ALS Association is there to offer help. 

Thanks for being there for Yvonne and the Perry/Farmer family.