This was our 9th annual walk. I suppose it was the 6th or 7th year my daughter walked, having the advantage of a stroller or a wagon for the first few years.
Our first JDRF walk was about 10 months after my daughter's diagnosis. We chose a walk in a big city. Despite the pouring rain and the screaming toddler who clearly thought we were torturing her, it was transformational experience. We had found a local support group near our home for parents with Type 1 kids, so were fortunate not to be as isolated as some families are after diagnosis. Yet at this walk, there were several thousand people gathered with the common purpose of finding a cure for this maddening disease we had found ourselves living with. As we walked, there were people as far as I could see, all of whom were walking 3 miles in the pouring rain because they cared so deeply about a cure. To this day when I feel beaten down by this disease, I bring that image to mind.
We've walked in several places since then, and I was even part of a walk committee for a small event near our old home. Each year brings its own meaning. Sometimes we're bouyed by the supportiveness of the friends and family who walk with us, or by the notes they send with their donations. Other years, we're moved by something that's said at the walk kick-off ceremony or in conversation with others attending. This year my daughter's continued expression of how excited she was to participate drove our enthusiasm.
Every year, though, we set out amongst a sea of people all of whom are walking with great purpose towards the same goal.
A cure.
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