On Thursday, March 5th, 2015, my brothers and I arrived in Traverse City after an eight day walk from Allendale. This was, of course,ATO Walks Hard: Many Steps for MS, and this year the event managed to raise $40,000 for the National MS Society. Exhaustion could not feign the overwhelming emotions associated with completing such an endeavor. For me personally (although I’m confident my brothers share this sentiment), it was one of the most physically and emotionally trying commitments I’ve ever made. Sitting on my couch at home two days later, slowly recovering proper function over my limbs and desperately trying to remind myself that going upstairs didn’t always take five minutes, I realize now more than ever the importance of the event in both my life and the lives of those diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.
Disconnect exists within all of our lives. That is to say even though adversity is universal, empathizing with adversity you’ve never experienced firsthand is difficult. So when I first began to give what input I could into Walk Hard, it was more or less exclusively incited by the passion older members displayed. I noticed how much everyone cared about the event; when they spoke about it I heard that sharp spike of intensity in their voice that’s undeniably indicative of an orator’s genuine fervor. As a result, possibly due in part either to a longing to fully assimilate into ATO or make an attempt at imitating older members in hopes of becoming more like them, I wanted to care about the event as well. It wasn’t until later when I had directly seen the effects of multiple sclerosis and the gratefulness those diagnosed with the disease showed towards our walk that I grasped the importance of Walk Hard. MS is exceedingly more prevalent than I had first perceived it to be and it only became apparent as those affected told me about their stories after learning of my involvement. Suddenly I wasn’t participating for me, I was participating for them. This event is so much more than raising money and walking; it shows victims of MS that they don’t have to face adversity alone or without hope.
I hesitate to transition to a more introspective focus for fear of belittling the weight I’ve just put on giving to a community often forgotten, but it’s tough to ignore the growth I’ve personally gained from Walk Hard and even harder to suppose that the opportunity to reshape yourself is not a huge part of what makes this a unique event. My father asked me what the most prevalent lesson I took away from the walk was and I had to spend a good minute in silence thinking about the answer. The truth is I’ve learned most about how to push past pain, how to push past limits. I severely underestimated the mental demands of walking and was surprised when every part of my body felt like it was screaming “AAAaaaaAAAAHhhhhhAHHHHSTOP” (or something to that effect). Moreover, the chance to for reflection in a place close to nature, as cliché as it sounds, is invaluable. Within these moments my thoughts went from contemplating relationships within my own life to reflections about living a life with an incurable disease such as MS. That amount of mediation really has permanently changed a lot of my ideas about how I want to live my life, and in that way Walk Hard has changed me for the better.
As fraternity men we should constantly be asking ourselves if we are creating a positive impact. As men we should constantly be asking ourselves if we are improving our character. Walk Hard for me has been a reaffirming response to both of these questions. This event means so much to so many people and being able to be a part of it is more than an honor. I have never in my life been so proud to be a part of something. All I can say is that I hope for nothing but the continued momentum this event has gained over the past three years. To those saying goodbye to the event: rest assured it is in good hands. To those yet to experience it: you’re in for a treat. All those suffering from multiple sclerosis, you have our support; we walk for you always.
Disconnect exists within all of our lives. That is to say even though adversity is universal, empathizing with adversity you’ve never experienced firsthand is difficult. So when I first began to give what input I could into Walk Hard, it was more or less exclusively incited by the passion older members displayed. I noticed how much everyone cared about the event; when they spoke about it I heard that sharp spike of intensity in their voice that’s undeniably indicative of an orator’s genuine fervor. As a result, possibly due in part either to a longing to fully assimilate into ATO or make an attempt at imitating older members in hopes of becoming more like them, I wanted to care about the event as well. It wasn’t until later when I had directly seen the effects of multiple sclerosis and the gratefulness those diagnosed with the disease showed towards our walk that I grasped the importance of Walk Hard. MS is exceedingly more prevalent than I had first perceived it to be and it only became apparent as those affected told me about their stories after learning of my involvement. Suddenly I wasn’t participating for me, I was participating for them. This event is so much more than raising money and walking; it shows victims of MS that they don’t have to face adversity alone or without hope.
I hesitate to transition to a more introspective focus for fear of belittling the weight I’ve just put on giving to a community often forgotten, but it’s tough to ignore the growth I’ve personally gained from Walk Hard and even harder to suppose that the opportunity to reshape yourself is not a huge part of what makes this a unique event. My father asked me what the most prevalent lesson I took away from the walk was and I had to spend a good minute in silence thinking about the answer. The truth is I’ve learned most about how to push past pain, how to push past limits. I severely underestimated the mental demands of walking and was surprised when every part of my body felt like it was screaming “AAAaaaaAAAAHhhhhhAHHHHSTOP” (or something to that effect). Moreover, the chance to for reflection in a place close to nature, as cliché as it sounds, is invaluable. Within these moments my thoughts went from contemplating relationships within my own life to reflections about living a life with an incurable disease such as MS. That amount of mediation really has permanently changed a lot of my ideas about how I want to live my life, and in that way Walk Hard has changed me for the better.
As fraternity men we should constantly be asking ourselves if we are creating a positive impact. As men we should constantly be asking ourselves if we are improving our character. Walk Hard for me has been a reaffirming response to both of these questions. This event means so much to so many people and being able to be a part of it is more than an honor. I have never in my life been so proud to be a part of something. All I can say is that I hope for nothing but the continued momentum this event has gained over the past three years. To those saying goodbye to the event: rest assured it is in good hands. To those yet to experience it: you’re in for a treat. All those suffering from multiple sclerosis, you have our support; we walk for you always.