This September, I'm walking 75km for the 75 Australians who die from pancreatic cancer each week.

This September, I’m lacing up my walking shoes and committing to a challenge that feels both daunting and deeply necessary. I’ll be walking 75 kilometers over the course of the month. It's a long way, but every step will be fueled by a purpose that is incredibly close to my heart.

Why 75 kilometers? Because every single week in Australia, 75 people die from pancreatic cancer. It’s a sobering, gut-wrenching statistic. Until recently, it was just a number to me. But now, that number has a face, a voice, and a name. It has the face of my pop.

My pop was the kind of man who could fix anything, tell the best stories, and whose laugh could fill a room. He was our family's anchor, our steady hand, our hero. This past March, we lost him to this devastating disease, and a huge part of our world went quiet.

Watching someone you love fight pancreatic cancer is a profoundly helpless feeling. You want to move mountains for them, but you’re faced with a brutal reality for which there are often too few answers and not enough time. The journey is relentless, not just for the person fighting, but for everyone who loves them.

In the quiet months that have followed, I’ve been searching for a way to channel my grief, to do something that felt meaningful, something that my pop would be proud of. That’s when I came across this challenge. Walking 75km. One kilometer for every life, every family, shattered by this disease each week. It felt like a sign. It’s a way to turn my footsteps into a tribute and my sorrow into strength.

So, this isn’t just a walk for me. Every kilometer will be a step in my pop’s memory. But it will also be a step for the 74 other people represented in that weekly statistic. It’s for the parents, grandparents, partners, and friends who are diagnosed every day, and for the families, like mine, who are left to navigate the aftermath.

Pancreatic cancer has one of the lowest survival rates of all major cancers, and that hasn't changed in decades. It’s often diagnosed late, and treatment options are limited. By taking on this challenge, I hope to raise not only much-needed funds for critical research but also awareness. We need better ways to detect it, more effective treatments, and ultimately, more time with the people we love.

This September, as I walk, I’ll be thinking of my pop’s resilience and his smile. It won’t be easy, but it’s nothing compared to the battle he and so many others have fought. I'm walking to honor a life beautifully lived and to fight for a future where '75' is just a number, not a weekly toll of heartbreak.