The stars were still visible within the folds of the purple velvet sky this morning as I ran along the sidewalk in a new pair of running shoes. (I retired my first pair of sneakers!) The beginning of mile three is a decline down a gentle hill. Along the curb sat a garbage disposal truck, engine running and yellow lights flashing.

I purposely shifted my weight to lower my center of mass, leaned forward from the hips, and succumbed to gravity. My frequency of my footfalls increased and I flew down the hill.

I passed the truck and spied a man wearing a reflective vest about twenty yards away. His body was leaning to the left and his right hand clutched a filled trash bag. As I continued my flight, he shouted, “HEY LADY! You should slow down!”

I thought I heard playfulness in his voice. He didn’t see me smile as I dashed past.

Though we often believe that we only have words to use in the currency of communication, this simply isn’t true: There are all the gestures we use, the facial expressions we exhibit, the tones and inflections in our voices, the way we position our bodies….

Take the woman who remain psychotic. We meet. She greets me warmly. She talks to me. I honestly do not understand over two-thirds of what she says to me. We converse anyway.

We sit together for about half an hour, though we could probably sit for longer. At the end of our time, she thanks me and eagerly invites me to return. She likes me. I like her.

I leave confused. I have no idea what we talked about. And somehow, we continue to get along.

This is my fourth year participating in the MS Walk.

I walk for a dear friend of mine who was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis four years ago. We were both interns on a ward medicine rotation. I didn’t know her well and, thus, I was surprised when she asked if she could speak with me in the bathroom.

(Because that’s apparently what women do when they want to talk about sensitive topics: They retreat to the bathroom.)

I wasn’t expecting her to tell me about her diagnosis. I was stunned. I didn’t know what to do.

And then I started walking.

Each year, I am deeply humbled that people donate money to support this effort. I am continually impressed with the generosity of my friends and peers… and I consider myself wonderfully blessed to know these remarkable individuals.

Though I ostensibly walk to help bring hope to those who have multiple sclerosis, I invariably walk away from the event feeling more hope than I could have ever imagined.