THE STARTING LINE

'Where A Film Became A Movement For MS Awareness'
Written by Allié McGuire

On May 26th, 2026, the world premiere of Because I Can at the CMSC 2026 Conference was more than a screening. It was a moment I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

There are some nights that do not feel like they belong to time. They feel suspended, sacred somehow, as if every person in the room understands, without anyone needing to explain, that something bigger than all of us is happening. That is what the premiere felt like.

For months, this film had lived in edits, conversations, memories, music, miles, tears, and hope. It lived in the story of a friendship that began when we were three years old. It lived in the reality of multiple sclerosis, in the weight of diagnosis, in the uncertainty of symptoms, in the invisible things people do not see, and in the visible ways we keep showing up anyway. It lived in the miles Angie ran for me, in the words she said that changed everything, and in the simple, powerful truth behind them: because I can.

But on May 26th, the film no longer belonged only to us. It belonged to the room. And that room was filled with the very community this story was created to serve.

To premiere Because I Can at CMSC, in the presence of MS clinicians, researchers, advocates, industry partners, people living with MS, care partners, and those who dedicate their lives to advancing care, was deeply meaningful in a way I am still trying to fully put into words. These were not passive viewers. These were people who understand the complexity of this disease. They understand that MS is not one thing. It is not one symptom, one story, one scan, one treatment path, one prognosis, or one face. They know that MS can be loud and devastating. They know it can also be quiet and hidden. They know it can take your balance, your vision, your strength, your memory, your energy, your confidence, your plans, and sometimes your sense of self. They know that behind every diagnosis is a person trying to live a life while learning to live with a disease they never asked for.

So to sit in that room and watch this story unfold with people who truly understand what was at stake was overwhelming. The enormity of the moment was felt in every silence, every tear, every laugh, and every conversation that followed. There were moments when I could feel the room holding its breath. There were moments when laughter broke through like light. There were moments when the emotion was so present, so honest, so human, that it felt like the film was no longer on the screen. It was in all of us.

That is what I hoped this film would do. I hoped it would make people feel seen. I hoped it would give language to something many of us carry quietly. I hoped it would remind people living with MS that we are more than our limitations, more than our medical charts, more than the hardest days we have survived. I hoped it would remind the people who love us that their presence matters more than they know. And I hoped it would remind the medical community that while treatment is essential, so is tenderness. So is listening. So is seeing the whole person behind the disease.

Because Because I Can is not just a film about MS. It is a film about friendship, purpose, and movement, in every sense of the word. It is about what happens when someone who loves you chooses to run with your story, not away from it. It is about the power of being carried by community when your own body feels uncertain. It is about grief and grit, fear and faith, science and soul. It is about what we can still do, even when we are forced to do life differently.

For me, this story began in a deeply personal place. It began with my diagnosis. It began with the private devastation of hearing words that changed the way I understood my body and my future. It began with the strange loneliness of having a disease that people may not always see, but that I feel every single day. And then, like so many beautiful things in my life, Angie showed up.

She did not show up with all the answers. She did not show up pretending she could fix what could not be fixed. She showed up with love. She showed up with action. She showed up by running, by raising awareness, by refusing to let me feel alone in something that can feel incredibly isolating. When I asked her why she was doing it, her answer was simple: “Because I can.”

Those three words became more than an explanation. They became a promise. They became a call to action. They became the heartbeat of this film. And now, they are becoming a movement.

That is what made premiering at CMSC so powerful. We did not begin this journey in a traditional theater with celebrities and flashing cameras. We began it in a room rooted in education, connection, care, and progress. We began it with the people who spend their lives confronting MS from every angle. We began it with those who research it, treat it, fund it, advocate around it, live with it, and love through it. That mattered.

It mattered because this film was made to be seen, but more than that, it was made to be felt. It was made to open conversations. It was made to build bridges. It was made to remind us that awareness is not passive. Awareness is not simply knowing something exists. True awareness asks something of us. It asks us to care differently, speak differently, show up differently, and act differently.

That is why kicking off the Because I Can film tour at CMSC felt so right. It reminded us why this story matters and who it belongs to. It belongs to everyone living with MS. It belongs to everyone who loves someone with MS. It belongs to every clinician who sits across from a patient and chooses to see more than symptoms. It belongs to every researcher working toward answers they may never personally need, but that millions of others desperately do. It belongs to every advocate who raises their voice when others are too tired to raise theirs. It belongs to every person who has had to redefine strength. It belongs to every body that has changed and every spirit that refuses to disappear. It belongs to all of us who believe that awareness can become action.

After the screening, I had the honor of joining our director Bill McCullough, Robert Pace, MD, and Angela Bernard on stage for a real, raw conversation about the roles we played, not only in the film, but in life as it relates to MS. That conversation meant everything to me.

Bill brought the vision, the heart, and the extraordinary ability to tell this story with honesty and artistry. He did not simply direct a film. He listened deeply. He honored what was fragile. He followed the truth where it led. He understood that this story was not about making MS look easier than it is. It was about showing what is hard, what is beautiful, what is complicated, and what is possible.

Dr. Pace brought the clinical perspective, but also the humanity that every patient hopes to find in a physician. As someone living with MS, I know how much it matters to feel seen by the person guiding your care. I know how much it matters when a doctor understands that a patient is not just a diagnosis, not just an MRI, not just a treatment plan. We are whole people with families, fears, dreams, responsibilities, and lives that do not pause just because a disease enters the room.

​And Angie brought what she has always brought into my life: love in motion. To sit beside her on that stage, after everything we have lived, after every mile run and every tear shed and every moment that brought us to that premiere, was almost impossible to process. How do you thank someone for carrying part of your story with such grace? How do you thank someone for turning friendship into advocacy? How do you thank someone for reminding you, again and again, that you are not alone? I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to thank her enough.

The evening was made even more unforgettable by the powerful live music performance from Caly Bevier, Shawn Corchado, and Bill McCullough. Their music did not simply close the night. It lifted it. It gave the room another way to feel what words could not fully hold. It turned an already emotional evening into something epic, intimate, and unforgettable. There are moments when music becomes memory as it is happening. That was one of them.

I am profoundly grateful to CMSC for giving Because I Can its first home. To be welcomed into that space, to be trusted with that stage, and to begin our film tour in a place so deeply committed to education, connection, and progress was an extraordinary gift.

I am also deeply grateful to our premiere and national tour sponsor, Genentech, and to our premiere’s presenting sponsor, Biogen. Their support helped make this unforgettable evening possible, and their belief in the power of this story allowed us to begin this journey in a way that honored the MS community with the care, dignity, and depth it deserves.

And to every person who sat in that room, watched with an open heart, asked a question, shared a tear, offered a hug, or told us what the film meant to them, thank you. You reminded me that stories matter. You reminded me that vulnerability has power. You reminded me that when we share what is personal, we sometimes create space for something universal.

I left the premiere with a full heart and a renewed sense of purpose. I also left with a deeper understanding that this film is no longer just something we made. It is something we are being asked to carry forward. Because the premiere was not the finish line. It was the starting line.

It was the beginning of a tour, yes, but also the beginning of a larger invitation. An invitation to see MS more fully. An invitation to talk about the emotional weight of chronic illness alongside the clinical realities. An invitation to honor the friendships, families, doctors, advocates, and communities that help people keep going. An invitation to move from awareness into action.

That is the work now. And I am ready for it. Because I can. Because Angie did. Because Bill believed. Because Dr. Pace cared. Because Caly, Shawn, and every person who helped bring this night to life gave their gifts to something bigger. Because CMSC opened the door. Because Genentech and Biogen helped make it possible. Because people living with MS deserve to be seen in the fullness of who we are. Because the people who love us deserve to know that what they do matters. Because awareness should not end when the credits roll.

Because this story is still moving.
And so are we. ∎

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