Listen, I know what you're thinking. Another charity fundraiser? Another friend asking you for money for something they "bravely" decided to do? But trust me, this one's different. This isn't your average, run-of-the-mill, "I'm-going-to-walk-a-5K-and-eat-a-bagel-at-the-end" kind of event. No, this is a 26 mile hike. A real one. The kind that makes you question your life choices, your sanity, and whether or not that granola bar you packed is going to be enough to get you to the finish line.

​But here's the thing. I'm not doing this for a bagel. I'm doing this for a cause that's bigger than my sore feet and my questionable sense of direction: Cystic Fibrosis.

​Now, you may not know a lot about CF, and that's okay. But imagine this: your lungs are trying to cough up a tiny, fluffy kitten. All the time. Every single day. That's a little bit what CF is like. It's a genetic disease that causes thick, sticky mucus to build up in the lungs, pancreas, and other organs. It makes breathing a challenge and makes fighting off infections a full-time job.

​So, while I'm out there on the trail, huffing and puffing, sweating in places I didn't even know I could sweat, and probably complaining about how much my quads hurt, I'll be thinking about the amazing people living with CF. I'll be thinking about how their daily struggle is so much harder than a few hours on a trail. And that's why I'm asking you to donate.

​Think of it this way: your donation is an investment. You're not just giving me money; you're giving me the motivation to keep going when I want to lie down on the side of the trail and take a nap. You're giving me a reason to push through the pain and cross that finish line with a ridiculous, sweat-drenched grin on my face. And you're helping me raise money for a cause that's working tirelessly to find a cure for CF.

​So please, open your hearts (and your wallets!) and donate to my Cystic Fibrosis charity hike. Every little bit helps, and it'll make my suffering just a little more meaningful. And who knows, maybe I'll even send you a picture of me at the end, looking like a sweaty, triumphant mess.

​Thank you!