At the time of my diagnosis, because my head was in a crazy fog - physically, emotionally, mentally - I decided I was going to start writing in a journal. I wanted to be able to keep track of everything, as my memory had just taken a permanent shit. I purchased my journal online while in the hospital receiving steroid infusions. I wanted it to be special. I needed someplace to write it all down in and I wanted it to be inviting, as writing has never appealed to me. Ever. My journal is made of soft, supple brown leather; the pages are unlined, and it opens like a secret book of treasures that have long been forgotten. It is packed full of stuff from my journey - my thoughts, my Rxs, my heartbreaks, my symptoms, my wins, my losses, my donations. The inception of this story comes from that journal, one of my most valuable possessions. The journal captured my life from the time of my MS diagnosis in September of 2016 to the half I finally got to run in February of 2019. It is the true story of overcoming and overturning odds. It is raw. It is painful. It is funny. It is filled with f-bombs. Ive been told its inspiring too.