My Great Strides Story
Colleen Anderson
Fundraising for Akron Zoo Great Strides 2026
Colleen Anderson
My Great Strides Story: Embracing Life with Cystic Fibrosis
For as long as I can remember, I was an active, energetic kid. I climbed trees, ran until my legs ached, and chased adventure with a fearless spirit. On the outside, I looked healthy and unstoppable. But behind that energy was a body quietly struggling. I was frequently sick with infections that didn't seem to make sense. My family and I were introduced early to waiting rooms, blood draws, scans, and test results that never quite answered the question we kept asking: Why does this keep happening?
Doctors searched for explanations, running countless tests and exploring possibilities, yet answers never came. Instead, we were left with more uncertainty. As a child, I didn't fully understand what was happening, only that being sick felt normal and recovery was something I constantly worked toward. I learned early how to push through discomfort, how to adapt, and how to keep moving forward even when my body felt like it was holding me back.
As I grew older, the illnesses didn't fade away like many people hoped they would. Instead, they followed me into adulthood and grew heavier. Rare and aggressive infections, including mycobacterium abscessus, became a part of my reality. Pneumonia wasn't a one-time event; it was something I battled repeatedly. Each illness chipped away at my strength and added new layers of exhaustion, frustration, and fear. It often felt like my body was fighting a war I couldn't see, and no one could explain why.
The hardest part wasn't just being sick. It was not knowing. Not knowing what was wrong, not knowing how to protect myself, and not knowing what the future might look like. I watched others move forward with their lives while I felt stuck in a cycle of illness and recovery. Still, I kept advocating for myself. I kept asking questions. I kept searching for answers, even when it felt easier to give up.
That persistence finally led me to a doctor who truly listened. Not someone who rushed through appointments or dismissed my concerns, but someone who heard my story in its entirety. They saw patterns where others hadn't and took my experiences seriously. That doctor suggested testing for cystic fibrosis, something no one had previously considered.
Receiving a cystic fibrosis diagnosis at 32 years old was overwhelming. It was not the diagnosis I ever expected to hear as an adult. There was grief in that moment, grief for the years spent searching, for the damage already done, and for the life-shortening reality of the disease. But alongside that grief was something unexpected: relief. For the first time in my life, everything made sense.
Cystic fibrosis explained the infections, the pneumonia, the constant battle my lungs were fighting. It explained why my body had struggled for so long without answers. That diagnosis didn't change my past, but it gave me clarity, direction, and hope for the future. Knowledge became power. With a name for my condition, I could finally begin fighting back with the right tools.
Today, I am navigating life with cystic fibrosis one step at a time. I am supported by a dedicated medical team and guided by a deeper understanding of my own body. Living with CF is not easy. There is currently no cure, and the disease affects the lungs, pancreas, and other vital organs. It makes breathing difficult, weakens the body's ability to fight infections, and often leads to significant lung damage and respiratory failure. Too many people with CF still lose their lives far too young.
Every person with cystic fibrosis has a different journey. Some are diagnosed at birth, others later in life like me. Some respond well to treatments that others don't have access to. Progress has been made, but that progress hasn't reached everyone. For many in the CF community, the road ahead remains long, uncertain, and exhausting.
Despite all of this, I refuse to let cystic fibrosis define who I am. It is a part of my life, but it is not the whole story. I focus on what I can control: showing up for my treatments, protecting my health, listening to my body, and choosing hope even on the hard days. I celebrate the small victories because with CF, those victories matter.
That is why I am participating in Great Strides. I walk for those who can't. I walk for those who came before me and didn't get the chance to see how far research has come. I walk for children growing up with CF today, hoping they will live in a world where this disease no longer dictates their future. I walk for the adults like me, who were diagnosed later in life and are still learning what it means to live fully while managing a life-shortening illness.
I'm walking for them.
I'm walking for me.
I'm walking for all of us.
Cystic fibrosis research has already changed lives, but the work is far from finished. We need continued funding to advance science, improve treatments, and ultimately find a cure. A cure means longer lives, healthier lungs, fewer hospital stays, and more moments spent living instead of fighting to survive.
By donating to my fundraising goal, you are doing more than contributing money. You are giving hope. You are supporting research that saves lives. You are standing with a community that refuses to stop pushing forward until cystic fibrosis is no longer a life-shortening diagnosis.
Will you help us end cystic fibrosis?
This is just the beginning of my story. It is a story rooted in resilience, strengthened by knowledge, and driven by the belief that a brighter future is possible. Together, step by step, stride by stride, we can help make that future a reality.
Thank you for walking with me.
For as long as I can remember, I was an active, energetic kid. I climbed trees, ran until my legs ached, and chased adventure with a fearless spirit. On the outside, I looked healthy and unstoppable. But behind that energy was a body quietly struggling. I was frequently sick with infections that didn't seem to make sense. My family and I were introduced early to waiting rooms, blood draws, scans, and test results that never quite answered the question we kept asking: Why does this keep happening?
Doctors searched for explanations, running countless tests and exploring possibilities, yet answers never came. Instead, we were left with more uncertainty. As a child, I didn't fully understand what was happening, only that being sick felt normal and recovery was something I constantly worked toward. I learned early how to push through discomfort, how to adapt, and how to keep moving forward even when my body felt like it was holding me back.
As I grew older, the illnesses didn't fade away like many people hoped they would. Instead, they followed me into adulthood and grew heavier. Rare and aggressive infections, including mycobacterium abscessus, became a part of my reality. Pneumonia wasn't a one-time event; it was something I battled repeatedly. Each illness chipped away at my strength and added new layers of exhaustion, frustration, and fear. It often felt like my body was fighting a war I couldn't see, and no one could explain why.
The hardest part wasn't just being sick. It was not knowing. Not knowing what was wrong, not knowing how to protect myself, and not knowing what the future might look like. I watched others move forward with their lives while I felt stuck in a cycle of illness and recovery. Still, I kept advocating for myself. I kept asking questions. I kept searching for answers, even when it felt easier to give up.
That persistence finally led me to a doctor who truly listened. Not someone who rushed through appointments or dismissed my concerns, but someone who heard my story in its entirety. They saw patterns where others hadn't and took my experiences seriously. That doctor suggested testing for cystic fibrosis, something no one had previously considered.
Receiving a cystic fibrosis diagnosis at 32 years old was overwhelming. It was not the diagnosis I ever expected to hear as an adult. There was grief in that moment, grief for the years spent searching, for the damage already done, and for the life-shortening reality of the disease. But alongside that grief was something unexpected: relief. For the first time in my life, everything made sense.
Cystic fibrosis explained the infections, the pneumonia, the constant battle my lungs were fighting. It explained why my body had struggled for so long without answers. That diagnosis didn't change my past, but it gave me clarity, direction, and hope for the future. Knowledge became power. With a name for my condition, I could finally begin fighting back with the right tools.
Today, I am navigating life with cystic fibrosis one step at a time. I am supported by a dedicated medical team and guided by a deeper understanding of my own body. Living with CF is not easy. There is currently no cure, and the disease affects the lungs, pancreas, and other vital organs. It makes breathing difficult, weakens the body's ability to fight infections, and often leads to significant lung damage and respiratory failure. Too many people with CF still lose their lives far too young.
Every person with cystic fibrosis has a different journey. Some are diagnosed at birth, others later in life like me. Some respond well to treatments that others don't have access to. Progress has been made, but that progress hasn't reached everyone. For many in the CF community, the road ahead remains long, uncertain, and exhausting.
Despite all of this, I refuse to let cystic fibrosis define who I am. It is a part of my life, but it is not the whole story. I focus on what I can control: showing up for my treatments, protecting my health, listening to my body, and choosing hope even on the hard days. I celebrate the small victories because with CF, those victories matter.
That is why I am participating in Great Strides. I walk for those who can't. I walk for those who came before me and didn't get the chance to see how far research has come. I walk for children growing up with CF today, hoping they will live in a world where this disease no longer dictates their future. I walk for the adults like me, who were diagnosed later in life and are still learning what it means to live fully while managing a life-shortening illness.
I'm walking for them.
I'm walking for me.
I'm walking for all of us.
Cystic fibrosis research has already changed lives, but the work is far from finished. We need continued funding to advance science, improve treatments, and ultimately find a cure. A cure means longer lives, healthier lungs, fewer hospital stays, and more moments spent living instead of fighting to survive.
By donating to my fundraising goal, you are doing more than contributing money. You are giving hope. You are supporting research that saves lives. You are standing with a community that refuses to stop pushing forward until cystic fibrosis is no longer a life-shortening diagnosis.
Will you help us end cystic fibrosis?
This is just the beginning of my story. It is a story rooted in resilience, strengthened by knowledge, and driven by the belief that a brighter future is possible. Together, step by step, stride by stride, we can help make that future a reality.
Thank you for walking with me.
Comments