One year ago, I made my first statement on having PD that was not in-person, knowing that it could spread to people beyond the targeted audience. Some things have changed since then, but not my unnecessarily confrontational personality.

I took part in a 5k recently. Typically, one usually announces this ahead of time to raise funds for some worthy cause, but I have a habit of doing things backwards so please bear with me.

The time I was aiming for was 40 minutes. I kept the bar low – about 25th percentile for 32 year old men, or “somewhat hurried walking” – because I am a flat-footed, flat-backed, out-of-shape asthmatic with bum knees. I kept the bar at all because I have Parkinson’s.

I will not be going into detail about that here, and this note has been shared with only a select few of you. To pre-empt your question, the answer is most likely “Yes, even then.” I don’t need you to tell me that you are so sorry or that you have heard that the prognosis is so much better now or that new treatments are coming out for all sorts of things these days – I am sorry enough for myself, and rest assured that, as in so many things, I probably know much more about that than you. I am not saying this for your sympathy, and most definitely not for your inspiration. I am saying this because I want you to know. I want you to know that people my age and younger have Parkinson’s Disease. I want you to know that most of us spend what dwindling energy we have left hiding it from most of you. I want you know that not all of us are worried about wrestling with Medicare because some of us are shitting ourselves at the thought of losing the health insurance coverage we finally got through our job, that not all of us are thinking about how long we can enjoy our time with our children and grandchildren because some of us are freaking out about how we will take care of our parents and grandparents, that not all of us are concerned about having to retire early because some of us are terrified of our careers ending when they have barely started. I am afraid of people knowing, because then something might happen. I need you to know, because otherwise nothing will happen. I want you to know that we are here, beside you at every stage of your life, whether you know it or not. I am not asking you to move up the finish line for me: for now I just want you to know that I am running right next to you, one arm swinging, for as long as I can.

I finished in 31:49. Next time I run, I will let you know beforehand: I’m daring you to bet against me, because I’m not going to anymore.