I'll be honest with you. Those of you who know me, know that I've never liked being the centre of attention. I preferred behind the microphone and the camera, not in front of it. Not even in 2000, when I stood on a platform at the WABDL World Championship and deadlifted 479.5 pounds. I was there to compete, not to be celebrated. Whatever recognition came with it, I never quite knew what to do with.

So writing a page like this, asking you to look at me, to read about me, to donate because of me, is not something that comes naturally. It is, frankly, uncomfortable.

But amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) forces you confront things you'd rather not.

I was diagnosed in May 2025. I'm 65 now, and I walk with a cane and ankle-foot orthotics, or with a walker, but that too will soon be gone. The disease that is taking my ability to move started with the legs that once allowed me to be the best pound-for-pound lifter across the 114 to 198 weight classes in my age group. I am aware of the irony.

Before the ALS diagnosis, I spent over 20 years as a financial planner in Ottawa, helping families protect what they'd built. Before that, I worked in animation with my cousin in Vancouver, bringing characters to life on screen. I've had a good run. I've had work that meant something to me and to the people I served. I'm luckier than many others who were diagnosed in the 30's, 40's and 50's, and sometimes when they haven't even reached the drinking age. And still luckier that my progression is slow, at least slower than those who can pass away six months after diagnosis.

When I got my diagnosis, I had a choice about how to respond. Run away or face it head one. Like so many who get this diagnosis, I chose to do as much as I can, for as long as I can, knowing the odds. I enrolled in a Phase 2 clinical trial. I'm participating in multiple research studies, contributing whatever data might be useful, not because it's likely to help me in time, but because it might help the person diagnosed after me. I've donated blood 116 times over my lifetime. I've registered my intent to donate my organs.

I’ve always believed that if you’re in a position to give, to help, you do. That’s something my parents instilled in me. I was fortunate to grow up in Canada in the 1960s and ’70s, where my teachers and faith reinforced the idea that privilege comes with a responsibility to support your family, your neighbours, and others. ALS hasn’t changed that, if anything, it’s made it even clearer.

My family and friends, my father, sister, my cousins, my aunts and uncles, friends, colleagues and clients, the people who have shown up for me in ways I don't always know how to accept gracefully, have formed Team ALS Freed-om Fighters. They will walk for me on June 6th in Ottawa. I will do my best to walk with them.

I'm asking you to support them, and through them, the ALS researchers who are doing the work that will matter for everyone diagnosed after me. In 2026, every dollar raised is being earmarked for a match by Brain Canada, so your donation will have an even greater impact.

I never wanted a page like this. But here it is, and here I am. And if being the centre of attention for a little while means that one more researcher gets funded, or one more family gets the support they need, then I can live with the discomfort.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for whatever you're able to give.

Mark