So, here's the thing.

A few years ago, I ran two 10k races in two weeks, was barely able to walk afterwards, but I raised near to £2,000 for Multiple Sclerosis research. Which was amazing.

Aware I was approaching the big 4 0, late last year I decided I'd run the London Marathon. A genius plan which fell down in one simple area - my legs weren't on board. Running is no longer for them. So some scaling down was needed.

Which is when I spied the Walk For All event (http://www.forallevents.co.uk/walk-for-all/events/walking-season-ticket/). Ha, I thought, if I can't run, I'll walk. And why do one when you can do three? Exactly. Makes perfect sense.

Some background might be good here, I feel. For those of you who don't know, I have MS (I know, I should talk about it more...). I was diagnosed in 2006, having had my first major episode in 2002. Doctors, they like to think about their answers.

Actually, this is no longer accurate. Some trawling through my memory banks has revealed I may have had an episode (why do they call them episodes? Because when one ends we're just waiting for the next to start. I'm here all week) in 98/99. I honestly can't remember when it was, just that it was a pancake race, the paper I was working on insisted us reporters go take part in such frivolity. Off we go, run, run, and as I pass Superdrug, my legs go. Like fainting, only I'm fully conscious as the pavement comes up to meet me. Nothing lifts your self esteem like being helped to your feet by a couple of genial OAPs in home-knitted hats.

And that was that, I thought no more about it (clearly, as I can't remember which pancake day this landmark event happened on). 

Fastforward to 2002, and an inability to hold a yoghurt pot becomes not being able to move my am or leg. In less than 48 hours. Two weeks in hospital, one dose of steroids, and I'm told it's Sclerosis. Singular.

It doesn't become multiple until 2006 when I lose the feeling in my hand for an afternoon. Pathetic, when you look at it like that. Life changing moments should be HUGE, not so pathetically piddling as to be barely noticeable. Still, such is life as the French say.

The HUGE bit came two years on, when a seemimgly damp feeling in my foot became no feeling from the waist down in just a few days. This one was fun, though, because while all I had was a strange tingling sensation everywhere south of my naval, I was still able to walk. This was put down to muscle memory (by me. But a trainee GP with the bedside manner of Crippen agreed with me, so clearly it must have been the case), and meant two things - one, I could still walk, two, I'd knacked both knees. Yes, they were moving but, unable to control the load being shoved through them every last tendon went for a burton.

On the upside, I knew when the episode was over because I could finally feel how much pain I was in. Every cloud...

So that's how we got to here. Looming birthdays and a body that has its own agenda - and one I can't control (two years in therapy and I'm finally getting my head round this bit. Kinda.). I now accept there may come a point when I can no longer walk - and to be honest, as long as my electric wheelchair is all-terrain and has cupholders, I'm OK with that. But that's not now. And not this year.

Hence the walks.

MS is affecting more and more people, and sufferers are getting younger. I was 29 when I had my fortnight's holiday in Wakefield's finest hotel for the neurologically knacked. And I was one of the older ones.

And still there's no cure.

I could explain about anti-bodies attacking the myelin sheath (snigger, he said sheath...) around the nerves, leading to signals not getting to where they should; I could bang on about lesions on my brain and spine where no signals can originate or get through (kinda like being with Orange - three networks and still no coverage), but why bring the mood down, eh?

Let's just agree that MS is shit, and like other terminal (or life-limiting - is there nothing people don't try and put a positive spin on?) illnesses it needs binning off pronto.

Which is where you come in.

While I'm getting up early, putting on my walking shoes and polishing my stick over a cup of tea, you'll be tucked up in bed. Just think how much warmer and cosier you'll feel knowing you donated to my endeavours (well, our endeavours as Mrs J will be with me every hobble of the way, but let's keep this about me, eh? I'm the ill one here...). I know times are tough, money's tight and things aren't getting any better - even if George Osborne thinks he's doing a brilliant job - but if you can help I'll be so grateful I may even say thank you.

You don't have to give much - a quid'll do. Maybe don't have that fifth pint and give me the £2.80 (or £12.72 if you live in London). I'll bring the dog round and you can tickle his head. You'll like that.

Thanks for any help you can give. If I remember, I'll write a little report about each walk as I soak my aching bones in red wine, and we can share the experience. You from your iPad, me from The Dales, The Peak District and The Lake District.

Tally ho...

 

(The JustGiving blurb: Donating through JustGiving is simple, fast and totally secure. Your details are safe with JustGiving – they’ll never sell them on or send unwanted emails. Once you donate, they’ll send your money directly to the charity and make sure Gift Aid is reclaimed on every eligible donation by a UK taxpayer. So it’s the most efficient way to donate - I raise more, while saving time and cutting costs for the charity.)