This morning I woke up with my legs paralysed again. That familiar fear crept in—but so did something stronger: determination. As the feeling slowly returned, I stretched, breathed through it, and made a decision… I was going to run.

Connor, my usual partner in crime, is recovering after surgery, and my husband is sidelined with an ankle injury—so today, it was just me and Rose taking on the 10km Trail Race at The Big Red Barn.

And what a run it was. My body held strong, my legs carried me, and I crossed that finish line in 3rd place—another bronze medal, another reminder of what I’m still capable of.

But this journey is unpredictable.

About an hour later, while on the phone with my mom, my legs started to feel strange. Before I could even react, I was paralysed again—this time in public. My husband had to bring the car closer and carry me. I felt exposed, embarrassed, and honestly… scared. This was new. This was different.

But here’s what I’m holding onto: I still showed up. I still ran. I still finished. And even in my most vulnerable moment, I wasn’t defeated.

This is what living with FND looks like. It’s unpredictable, humbling, and sometimes overwhelming—but it’s also filled with resilience, courage, and moments of triumph that refuse to be overshadowed.

“You are not defined by the moments you fall, but by the strength you rise with—again and again.”