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I'm walking 10,000 steps a day for Autism Initiatives

Walking With Autism, Walking Toward Purpose

Some walks are about distance.
Others are about meaning.

When I walk for autism, I’m not trying to prove endurance or chase applause. I’m walking because I care—deeply—about people who often feel unseen, misunderstood, or forced to explain themselves to a world that moves too fast and listens too little.

Autism isn’t something I view from the outside as a statistic or a slogan. It represents real people, real families, and real inner worlds that are rich, complex, and deserving of patience and respect. Walking is my way of slowing down long enough to honor that.

Every step feels like a quiet statement: you matter, even when the world forgets to say it out loud.

Walking as Listening

There’s something about walking that strips life down to its essentials. Breath. Rhythm. Thought. Silence.

As I walk, I think about how many people on the autism spectrum navigate a world that isn’t designed for them—how exhausting that must be, how strong they must already be just to exist. Walking becomes less about my feet and more about my heart learning to listen.

I don’t walk for people as if I’m above them.
I walk with people, in solidarity, in humility, knowing I’m still learning.

Searching for Purpose, One Step at a Time

I’ll be honest: this walk is also personal in another way. Like many people, I’m searching for purpose—not a loud, dramatic calling, but a steady sense that my life is pointed toward something meaningful.

Walking gives me a language for that search.

I may not always know where I’m going, but I know how I want to move through the world:
with empathy, intention, and care for others.

That’s why I’m drawn to the idea of walking The Sword of Saint Michael one day—not as a conquest, not as a test of faith, but as a symbol.

A sword, after all, isn’t only a weapon. It can represent clarity, protection, and discernment—the ability to cut through confusion and fear to reach something true.

For me, that imagined walk stands for alignment: walking a line between who I am and who I’m trying to become.

From Small Walks to Long Journeys

Right now, my walk for autism is where my feet are planted. It’s real, present, and grounded. It’s about showing up, even when the impact feels small.

But maybe that’s how all meaningful journeys begin.

One walk teaches you how to care.
Another teaches you how to endure.
Eventually, you realize you’ve been preparing—not for a destination, but for a way of living.

If I ever do walk the Sword of Saint Michael, I hope I arrive there having learned how to walk gently with others first.

Why I Keep Walking

I walk because people matter.
I walk because listening matters.
I walk because purpose isn’t found all at once—it’s uncovered step by step.

And if my walking can help even one person feel less alone, more understood, or more valued, then every mile is worth it.

This is me, still searching, still caring, still walking.

— Scotty Ryan Bryant