Blog Post

On Wednesday, June 4th, I hit a milestone that, for years, I honestly thought would be impossible: I walked 3,019 steps in a single day.

That number might not sound like much to most people. In fact, if you look at any fitness tracker, it’s less than the daily average. But for me, it’s a comeback nearly two decades in the making. It’s a number that represents so much more than just footsteps—it’s about resilience, patience, and rediscovering a part of myself I thought I’d lost forever.

Growing up, summer meant movement. I lived for those long walks—sometimes logging anywhere from 2 to 14 miles a day, just for the simple joy (and the satisfying exhaustion) of it. I can still remember the feeling of my shoes hitting the pavement, the rhythm of my breath, and the sense that the world was wide open and waiting for me. Back then, the idea of not being able to walk, of losing that basic freedom, never crossed my mind.

But life has a way of throwing curveballs. Over the years, walking became harder and harder. It wasn’t just about the physical pain or the fatigue—it was the emotional weight of losing something so fundamental, something that felt like part of my identity. There were days when I couldn’t imagine ever going for a walk just for the fun of it again. The idea of hitting thousands of steps in a single day felt completely out of reach, almost laughably unrealistic.

Yesterday changed all of that.

Walking those 3,019 steps was harder than anything I’ve done in a long time. It took more stamina, grit, and willpower than I expected. My legs ached, my heart pounded, and every step felt like a tiny victory—because it was. But here’s the thing: it wasn’t just physically demanding. It was exhilarating. Honestly, it was addictive, in the best way. Each time I checked my step count, I felt that old spark of joy and pride, the kind I hadn’t felt in years. I found myself thinking, “I can’t wait to lace up and go again.” And I meant it.

This experience has also completely transformed the way I think about progress. For a long time, I was laser-focused on one metric: walking with less and less robotic assistance. I thought that was the only definition of success, the only outcome that mattered. But as I moved forward—step by step, sometimes with help, sometimes on my own—I realized that the value is in the journey itself. There’s strength in simply moving forward, regardless of how you do it. Progress isn’t always about doing things the “normal” way—it’s about finding your way, no matter what that looks like.

That shift in perspective has filled me with pride and a sense of strength I haven’t felt in years. I’m learning to celebrate every step, every effort, every moment of forward motion. And I’m realizing that small victories add up to something huge over time.

Of course, none of this would have been possible without the incredible support around me. The Wandercraft team, the physical therapists, and everyone at Walk in New York have been in my corner every step of the way. Their dedication, encouragement, and expertise have helped turn what seemed impossible into reality. They didn’t just give me tools—they gave me hope, and they reminded me of what’s possible when you have the right people cheering you on.

So here’s to every hard-fought step. Here’s to the teams and loved ones who make those steps possible. And here’s to new milestones—ones that might seem out of reach right now, but with persistence, patience, and support, are absolutely within our grasp.

Onward.