Maggie Lopez

Last day of February, not last for me …

Saturday 28th Feb Today was meant to be the day I closed this chapter with pride, joy, and a finish-line smile. Instead, I close it with a knee injury, swollen with pain, and a heart that feels heavier than I expected😩 I truly gave this challenge everything I had. Every step, every mile, every aching breath, I carried my Nan with me. I carried everyone who knows what it means to slowly lose someone they love to dementia. I carried the fear, the helplessness, the anger at this cruel, cruel disease. And tonight, I feel sad. I feel disappointed. My heart was ready for the finish line, but my body had other plans. The pain of these last few days has not only been physical. It has broken something in me… Because this wasn’t just about running 100k. It was about proving that love can outrun loss. It was about raising money, yes but even more, about raising awareness. About speaking openly about dementia. About writing stories that might sit quietly on my fundraising page… unread tomorrow, maybe forgotten next month or so… But maybe,one day someone will stumble upon those words. Maybe someone will see themselves in my story. Maybe someone will feel less alone. And if that happens, then this challenge has already meant something. Tonight, despite running through pain, despite pushing further than I should have, I am still £20k short. That hurts too. But I know myself. I know my heart. This is not the end. When I recover, I will rise. I will run again. I will finish what I started. And one day, I will look up at the sky and whisper, “Babcia… I did it.” To my friends. To my family. To every single person who donated, shared, messaged, and believed in me when I was struggling ; I thank you. From the very bottom of my heart ❤️ You carried me when my legs could not… Memory of my dearest Babcia and life long THANK YOU …I remember the day I have been chosen to be Maya the Bee in the school play… I was terrified, not only about my part I had to play, but the whole Maya’s appearance… I was worried about the costume. Worried I wouldn’t be enough… I told you my fears Babcia, and before the question had even fully left my mouth, your sewing machine was already humming. Fabric and thread turning doubt into courage. You made it possible, you filled me with faith. On the day of the play, on that stage, I became beautiful Maya the Bee wearing the most gorgeous handmade outfit created by you… But in life, I became something even greater ,your granddaughter, and in life like you, little copy of Babcia the Bee 🐝 And then … Strong because of you. Brave because of you. Loving because of you. I was and always proudly will be a tiny echo of you. I love you forever ♥️ Madzia Share

I am stronger

Sunday 22nd Feb Today I close week three of my 100k run challenge. Just one week left… When I signed up for this challenge, I never imagined that my nan wouldn’t be there to see me cross the finish line. That thought still hurts in ways I can’t fully explain. The first weeks were incredibly hard. Every run carried mixed emotions, physical pain, exhaustion, and the deep ache of missing her… Some days, grief was the heaviest weight I carried out of the door😞 But today felt different. Today I felt stronger. Today I felt calm, grateful, and strangely at peace🙏 I realised something beautiful: Even though our loved ones leave this world, they never really leave us. They run with us, they guide us, they live in our hearts and in every step we take in their name. I have one week to go and just 30k left to run. Is this the end of the road for me? Those who know me, know this is just the beginning. I will keep showing up, signing up for new challenges , keep giving, and keep sharing a little piece of my heart with this world. My fundraising is still ongoing. Every donation, no matter how small helps to provide clinical nurse support to families walking the Dementia journey. That support can be the difference between feeling alone and feeling held, understood, and cared for. If you’ve followed my journey, cheered me on, shared my posts, or donated, I thank you from the bottom of my heart 🙏 If you’re able to support or share, I would be forever grateful. Let’s finish this together, for Nan, for everyone living with dementia, and for the families who love them so deeply. 💙🙏 Share

Memories

Saturday 21st Feb Memories and Grief💔 It has been a month since my nana passed away. A month since her heart stopped beating… But in truth, it feels like I lost her many times before that, and I’m still losing her now😞 Dementia is a cruel, slow goodbye. It steals someone in fragments, leaving you grieving, a person who is still physically there. And when the end finally comes, you realise you’ve been grieving for years without ever knowing when the real farewell began. Was it the day she looked at me and didn’t know who I was anymore? Was it when her words disappeared and our conversations faded into silence? Or was it when her eyes changed when they looked through me, as if she was already somewhere else? I will never know the answer. Only my nan does. Today I ran with my son, and we dedicated this run to her. The rain kept falling, as it has for what feels like forever, but he still came with me. He ran for his great-nan. He ran for me. And in that moment whilst running, I felt her love stretching across generations, wrapping around both of us. My knee was aching, my body tired, but my heart felt wide open. I know it sounds weird but I felt her beside us, her quiet presence, her gentle strength. As if she was beside us, smiling, cheering, reminding me why I’m doing this 100k challenge in the first place. Today’s run was different. It hurt, and it healed at the same time. Each step felt like a memory, a thank you, a goodbye, and a promise all at once. Nana, today we ran 7.5 km together!!! And it was the most meaningful run of my life. I miss you in the smallest moments, the way you laughed, the warmth of your hug, the comfort of knowing you were there. I miss the nana you were, and I grieve the parts of you that dementia took away😞 I miss you. I love you. I always will. And every kilometre I run in this 100k Dementia challenge, I will carry you with me, because you are still part of every step I take. Love you lots. Madzia Share

Precious memories

Wednesday 18th Feb Two days of a sore knee😞 Two days I didn’t run😞 Endless London ☔️ whispering: stay in bed, wait for spring, wait for better days… Tonight I wanted to run with my son, but the rain wouldn’t stop. I stood there, tired, aching, emotional. Then I thought: If not now, then when? So I put on my jacket, pulled on my winter hat, opened the door, and stepped into the rain. And suddenly, the rain didn’t feel cold. It felt like tears. Tears of families watching someone they love slowly slip away. Tears for my beloved nan💔 In a few days, it will be a month since she left us. And during her illness, there were no breaks. No days off. No pauses. Dementia kept moving forward, and we ran after it, trying to hold on to her, trying to create memories before they faded. I keep thinking about the day I took her outside so she could feel the sun on her face, see the blue sky, breathe fresh air. Such a simple moment. Yet so rare. So fragile. So precious. I didn’t know then how much I would treasure it. That’s why I run. I run for the memories we still hold onto. I run for families who are exhausted but full of love. I run for those living with dementia, who deserve dignity, care, and understanding. I run so others can have moments in the sun, moments of laughter, moments of connection. Tonight I ran in the rain, carrying my nan in my heart. And I will keep running,for her, for love, for hope. 💙 M. Share

Half way through 💪

Sunday 15th Feb 51k done! I need you more than ever to reach the finish line 🏁 Share

Keep the faith

Sunday 15th Feb Share

Illusion

Thursday 12th Feb

This week has been hard. 

Harder than I expected. I never thought my own body would feel like it was working against me, but here I am, still showing up, still running, still refusing to give in. 

I’m tired, but I’m not stopping…

While I was running, my mind kept drifting to the idea of illusions.

To those fragile days filled with hope… and the days filled with tears and quiet heartbreak.

Dementia feeds families with illusions and with hope.
And those hopeful days are beautiful, BUT they are also unbearably cruel.

There were days when my grandmother couldn’t recognise me, when she didn’t know my name. I would stand in front of her, smiling, trying not to show the pain, while she looked through me like I was a stranger.

And then, suddenly, she would cook her Sunday roast. She would laugh, talk, be herself again.

 The woman I admired so deeply.

The woman I loved to bits. 

The woman who made me feel safe and cherished.

For a moment, it felt like I had her back.

But the next day, she would have no memory of it…

No memory of me.
And she would drift back into the dementia wheel, further away from me again.

Those moments are cruel beyond words. They lift your heart with hope, only to smash it like a hammer shattering a beautiful glass picture you were desperately trying to hold onto.

In my work, I have seen so many families clinging to that same hope. Hoping that a carer, a routine, a new treatment will stop dementia from progressing. Hoping their mum or dad will return to the person they once knew.

But dementia doesn’t work that way😔

It requires endless patience, deep understanding, compassion, empathy, but also education. Sadly, families facing dementia are often left without enough guidance, without enough support, and without enough understanding of what lies ahead.

I deeply sympathise with every family walking this journey. Even though I support people living with dementia, I know what it feels like as a granddaughter. There were days I screamed inside, silently begging my nan to look at me with the eyes full of her love, to remember me, to say my name in her sweetest tone:

“My Madzia, you are here.”

That’s why I run.
For the memories.
For the families.
For the love that dementia tries, but never fully manages to take away.

M.

Oh nearly forgot… I ve done 5.77km today ! 

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Tuesday 10th February

Tuesday 10th Feb

This week didn’t go as planned.

I missed my run yesterday. My knee was sore, aching, and simply wouldn’t cooperate. I was so disappointed and angry, even at myself and at my body.

Why now?
Why, when I need you the most, do you let me down?

I felt betrayed. I felt weak. I felt like I had failed.

And then, like a boomerang, the thought came back to me…

Isn’t this what it feels like for someone living with dementia?

The anger.
The disappointment.
The crushing sense of failure.

It must feel like a constant 1:1 conversation with your inner self.

Why?
Why are you failing me?
What have I done to deserve this?
Please! Make it stop…

These voices are quiet. Lonely. Unheard by the outside world. But inside, they echo building fear, frustration, anger, and doubts about what the future even holds anymore.

In that moment, my sore knee gave me something unexpected: a glimpse into the emotional world of dementia. 

Not the clinical side. Not the statistics. 

But the raw, human experience of feeling let down by your own body and mind…

So today, I remind myself and anyone reading this, TO BE KIND.
To ourselves.
To our bodies.
And especially to those living with dementia, carrying battles we may never fully hear.

M.

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My Dementia 100K Run: A Story I Will Never Forget

Sunday 8th Feb

As I reach the end of my first week of the Dementia 100K run, I want to share a story that has stayed with me for years. It’s a story that holds sadness, compassion, and unexpectedly a joy.🥹 

When we hear the word dementia, our hearts instinctively sink. We say, “I’m so sorry,” because we know how devastating this condition can be. We think of loss, confusion, and heartbreak for the person living with it, and for those who love them.

And those feelings are valid. Dementia is cruel.

But sometimes, quietly and unexpectedly, it reveals moments that feel almost impossible to explain.

I once worked for a well-known charity supporting people with learning disabilities. One of the remarkable women we supported Miss AJ, had lived her entire life carrying an unbearable fear. As a child, she lost her parents during a bomb raid in the Second World War. That single moment followed her through every stage of her life.

Miss AJ dreamed of going on holiday. She spoke about it with excitement and longing. But the fear of unfamiliar places was overwhelming. No matter how much patience, reassurance, or planning my team offered, we could never help her cross that boundary. Watching her hold onto that dream, knowing we couldn’t make it happen, was heartbreaking.

Then dementia entered her life…💔

Slowly, piece by piece, it began to take her memories. To witness that loss was painful beyond words. We grieved alongside her, knowing what was being taken away.

BUT,  as the memories faded, so did the fear that had imprisoned her for decades.

And in that space, where fear once lived something extraordinary happened.🥹

For the first time ever, Miss AJ was able to go on holiday.

She experienced the joy she had waited a lifetime for. The excitement. The freedom. The happiness she had only ever imagined. Seeing her smile, seeing her live out a dream we once believed was impossible, is something I will carry with me forever.

Dementia takes so much. It steals memories, independence, and parts of who we are.

But sometimes, in the midst of all that loss, it gives us a moment of grace, a moment where love, care, and determination can still create joy.

This is why I run.
For the pain.
For the hope.
For stories like Miss AJ’s.

And for a future where we can keep fighting this cruel disease, while never forgetting the humanity within it.

M.

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Saturday 7th February

Saturday 7th Feb Silence… Many people, upon receiving a diagnosis of dementia, experience a rush of fast-tracking thoughts in the first few days. Why me? What about my family? When will I stop recognising my loved ones? What is my life going to look like now? So many whys and whens appear, most of them unanswered. Everyone walks this journey differently, but for many, there comes a moment of pure silence. A moment to acknowledge. A moment to accept. A moment to be honest and open about what is happening, and about a life that is about to change. Whether the progression is slow or rapid, dementia places an emotional strain not only on the person affected, but also on their family and loved ones. Everyone wants things to stay the same, yet everyone is changing at the same time, often quietly, often alone😔 Silence can feel peaceful, yet unbearably loud. For many, this is what the journey looks like. M Share

The Mirror of Youth

Friday 6th Feb Share

Friday day 6

Friday 6th Feb

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When the Mirror Holds a Memory

Today, I want to reflect on the behaviours we so often see when caring for our loved ones with dementia. Many of these moments are shaped by the mirror of youth.

These images show older adults in everyday moments, but in the mirror, we see who they once were. The past and present standing side by side.

This is what dementia can feel like. Inside, many people still feel young, capable, and full of purpose, even when their reflection tells a different story. When they speak of another time, they aren’t lost, they’re living in a memory that still feels true.

Dementia doesn’t erase a person’s identity. Behind every aging face is a lifetime of love, strength, and meaning.

When we care for someone with dementia, we aren’t just supporting who they are today, we’re honoring every version of who they’ve ever been💙

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Wednesday day 4 -Resilience

Wednesday 4th Feb Share

Tuesday day 3. Today’s story

Tuesday 3rd Feb Share

Monday

Monday 2nd Feb Share

2nd of February- run/jog full of aches

Monday 2nd Feb

I woke up feeling strong, just a few gentle aches in my legs 🦵 a quiet reminder of yesterday’s miles. As the day went on, the pain grew louder. By the time I headed out this evening, it felt like stones were tied to my feet, every step heavy, every stride a struggle.

But I know this part of the journey. It gets harder before it gets easier. Our bodies need time to adjust, to learn a new rhythm, to build strength where there was none before.

And that’s not so different from the journey of someone who has just learned they or their loved one is living with dementia. The fear. The pain. The uncertainty. Not knowing what life will look like now, or how to move forward with something so overwhelming.

This month, my miles are for them. For every person navigating this cruel disease, one difficult step at a time. . .

Each day, I’ll be sharing with you my thoughts and feelings from these runs,  because no one should have to face this journey alone. 💙

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1st of February-Sunday run

Sunday 1st Feb It had been raining all day, and I kept putting it off, waiting for the clouds to clear. I told myself I’d go once the rain stopped. Then it hit me ,for so many families affected by dementia, the rain never really stops… So I stopped waiting. I pulled on my jacket, laced up my trainers, and with my nan beside me in my heart, I stepped outside. Today I ran my first 3.5km for dementia. Cold, wet, and emotional , but worth every single step🏃‍♀️ Share

First day of the challenge

Sunday 1st Feb

When I signed up for the 100k challenge in February, my thoughts were with the people, families, and friends whose lives are touched every day by this cruel disease.

 I carry with me the memory of my last visit to my beloved nan, who lived so bravely with dementia. She passed away few weeks ago, before I could begin this journey, but her love and strength walk beside me in every step I am about to take.

I may not feel ready or fully prepared, but this challenge isn’t about being ready. It’s about showing up for awareness, for compassion, and for hope. Even as memories fade, love remains, and through every step of this journey, I hope to honour those living with dementia and those we hold forever in our hearts ♥️ 

Wish me luck 🍀 

Maggie

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