Craig’s Story: Strength, Resilience & The Fight to End MS

A Life-Changing Diagnosis

In 1992, I was fresh out of college, traveling on business in Louisiana, when my body sent me a message I couldn’t ignore. A strange tingling sensation spread across my chest—then down to my fingertips, my toes. I shrugged it off, thinking it was an allergic reaction or maybe just exhaustion from the road. But it didn’t go away.

A few months later, after neurological tests, a spinal tap, and a brain MRI, I got the diagnosis: relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis (RRMS)—the most common form of MS, affecting 70–75% of patients. It meant my body would attack itself unpredictably, with flare-ups that might subside but would always leave their mark.

The first attack was jarring. It felt like walking on sponges, my feet disconnected from the ground. Simple tasks—buttoning a shirt, flipping a coin into a toll booth, rolling down a car window—became impossible. And with every attack, I never fully returned to baseline. MS was here to stay.

A Slow, Silent Loss—But Not Without a Fight

Growing up in Northern New Jersey, I was defined by movement. Running, soccer, skiing, biking—these weren’t just hobbies; they were who I was. My high school years were filled with track records, team captaincies, and a reputation as "Most Athletic." Sports weren’t just a pastime; they were my identity.

So at 22, faced with a future of physical decline, I had a choice: accept it or fight it.

I chose to fight.

For the next decade, I held onto every sport I could—softball, snowboarding, hiking, mountain biking. Each activity became more than just a passion; it was my rebellion against MS, my way of proving that I wasn’t going down without a fight.

But MS is a slow, relentless thief. Over the years, it chipped away at my strength, my balance, my endurance. One by one, the things I loved most were taken from me.

And yet—I kept moving.

Progression, Despite My Best Efforts

By 2000, I knew I had to get serious about treatment. I started disease-modifying therapies (DMTs)—designed to slow progression, limit new attacks, and preserve function. I’ve been on five different treatments since then, each one working until it didn’t.

Some of the symptoms have been tougher than others:
✔ Weakened legs, making even short walks exhausting.
✔ Sporadic foot drop, turning errands into obstacle courses.
✔ Balance issues, making stairs and uneven terrain a challenge.
✔ Bladder issues, earning me the endearing nickname “Bladder Boy” among close friends and family.

Two years ago, I started Lemtrada, a therapy with promising results in slowing disease progression. Since then, my MRIs have shown no new disease activity—a major win. My body isn’t worsening the way I once feared it would.

And sure, aging doesn’t help either—but if life were a race, I’d say I’m just ahead of the pack! 😉

Some days, I use a cane. Sometimes, I park in a handicapped spot when needed (which, by the way, my passengers consider a VIP bonus). But I keep showing up, keep fighting, and keep proving that MS does not define me.

Hope, Love & The Unbreakable Power of Community

I may not keep a gratitude journal like my wife, Carrie, but if I did, it would be filled to the brim with the people who have stood by me.

I met Carrie Nolan in 1995 at a party in Cranford, NJ. She stole my heart (or maybe I stole hers 😉), and two years later, she became my wife. Together, we built a life filled with love, laughter, and two incredible daughters, Ella and Lucy.

When I was diagnosed, I wondered if I’d ever find someone willing to take this journey with me. I now know that love has a way of showing up in the places you least expect it, and when it’s real, it stays.

Carrie became my partner not just in life, but in this fight. She embraced my journey, and together, we became part of Walk MS—a community of warriors determined to change the future of MS.

Through the years, our Walk MS team, Luke SkyWALKER and the Wookies, has grown into a family. Some have been with us since day one; others have joined along the way. We’ve walked in different locations, held post-walk celebrations, and raised over $667,000 for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society.

But this fight is not over.

Why I Keep Walking

MS has taken a lot from me. But it has also given me a purpose.

I fight for the 1 million people in the U.S. living with MS. I fight for the next generation, so they won’t have to hear the words I did at 22. I fight for a cure, for treatments that don’t just slow MS down but reverse the damage it’s done.

I don’t dwell on what I’ve lost. Instead, I celebrate what I can still do.

I choose hope. I choose gratitude. And I choose to keep moving forward.

Join me. Let’s walk. Let’s fight. And let’s end MS—together.

All my best, Craig