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 THE WIND WITHIN 'How a MS Diagnosis Became a Movement at Sea' Exclusive Interview with Zachary Singer Conducted by Allié McGuire Captain Zachary "Zac" Singer is the founder of Sail MS, a nonprofit born from his own journey with multiple sclerosis. A licensed tugboat captain with a life spent at sea, Zac transformed his diagnosis into a mission—using the power of sailing to offer freedom, connection, and healing to others with MS. Through Sail MS, he merges maritime skill with deep purpose, helping others navigate their own uncharted waters. ALLIÉ: Zac, you've spent your life on the water commanding tugboats and navigating the unknown. After your MS diagnosis, how did the ocean become more than just your workplace? How did it become your medicine? ZAC: Well, it really comes down to me not fully realizing how much being a sailor was a part of me. It was kind of just my world. Once I took a break from that and didn’t know if I’d ever be able to do it again, I realized it was truly part of my identity. I was in an existential crisis of sorts: Who am I? What am I doing? Where am I going? On top of that were the fears of having MS and possibly being disabled in the future—really uncharted waters. I think that’s something most people with MS go through. If you’ve worked within a team-oriented environment, like the military, there’s an added level of existential threat because you lose part of your identity along with your occupation. Over half the people diagnosed with MS stop working within five years. Whether that’s psychological or physical, I know at least in the beginning—and throughout living with MS—that the psychological aspect is the biggest battle to undertake for all of us. ALLIÉ: Oh, agreed one hundred percent. Let’s talk about the beginnings. Starting Sail MS wasn’t just a professional pivot. It was deeply personal as someone living with MS. What was the moment you knew you had to do this—not just for yourself, but for others? ZAC: I actually knew the minute I was diagnosed. At that exact moment, I already knew I was going to do this. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I had carried this idea in my head for a long time—doing something like this with different groups of people. When the MS diagnosis came, everything clicked. The puzzle pieces came together. Now, after running Sail MS for nearly five years, I know there’s real magic in it. It doesn’t even have to be sailing specifically. It has to do with bringing together a purpose-driven group, all living with a common and difficult threat. It creates a bond that’s just magical from the very beginning. People are allowed to be vulnerable with each other, and then you’re locked into a boat for seven days—about 300 square feet of living space for seven or eight people. You get to know each other very well, very quickly, and more often than not, you leave bonded in a truly special way. ALLIÉ: Speaking of those bonds, you became close with Cisco, who joins us. Cisco, I want to hear your story. How did your experience with Sail MS create a pivot, a change, a shift in how you dealt with your own life and diagnosis? CISCO: First off, I had no experience sailing. I never wanted to go into the ocean. I barely knew how to swim. When I connected with Zac four years ago, it forced me to face fears and obstacles at every step. It made me realize I’m capable of doing pretty much whatever I want. That’s why I’m sitting here on a balcony in Greece right now. It made me look inward to discover who I am, what I’m capable of, and strengths I didn’t know I had.  ALLIÉ: Like you said, it helped you look inward. Not to be too punny, but the sea helped you see what was within you. And Zac, you said it’s not only about a common diagnosis, but also a common threat. That parallel is so powerful: Cisco, you had never sailed before—just like you’d never lived with MS until the diagnosis. With both, you had to figure it out. There’s something symbolic about sailing—charting a course, adjusting to the wind, facing storms. I’d like to hear from both of you on this. Zac, if you’ll go first: how does the act of sailing reflect what it’s like to live with MS? ZAC: It really is the best metaphor. We sail all the time, but we can’t control the wind. All we can do is adjust our sails. That drives home the fact that none of us can control what’s happening. We might think we have control, but it’s an illusion. When I was diagnosed, I went to a psychologist for six months to wrap my head around it. We talked about the illusion of immortality. MS lifts that veil. You realize, Wow, anything can happen. That’s true for everyone, but most people live under the illusion that life is predictable. When you’re sailing, you never really know what the wind or weather will bring, or how you’ll get where you’re going. You have to flow with it. And then, on a sail trip, there’s structure: we wake up, tackle tasks together, sail four or five hours, anchor, and settle in. What’s special is the presence. On these trips, I might see someone glance at their phone for five minutes in an entire week. It’s so rare. People are really present with themselves and each other. That’s powerful, especially when living with a disease that brings so much fear and makes it hard to live in the present. That’s where the magic happens. ALLIÉ: So it’s about the opportunity to be present with each other—that real, raw connection. Cisco, let’s come back to you. How did you see the symbolism between sailing and MS? And also—let’s be real—what made you decide to get on a boat when you couldn’t even swim? CISCO: I’m either crazy or not very smart. The first time I met Zac, he said, “Just come down to the dock. No pressure. You don’t have to sail—just watch us leave.” It was only a ten-minute drive, so I went. Next thing I knew, I was on the boat—and loving it. Soon I was taking my first sailing class. My instructor told me, “Be careful, Cisco. Once the ocean gets its hooks in you, it won’t let go.” He was right. When I don’t sail for a while, I don’t feel right. Even when my MS symptoms flare—tiredness, balance issues—I’d still go out because I didn’t want Zac out there alone with new people. By the end of the day, I’d be exhausted, like after a workout, but my symptoms would feel minimized. Symbolically, there are so many parallels. As Zac said, being present is key. Out there, you’re just connected—with the people on the boat and with the ocean. There’s no motor noise, just water and wind. You feel a sense of serenity. And you know everyone is either teaching or learning, but you’re all there for each other. ALLIÉ: I love that—everyone’s in the same boat, literally and figuratively. So, Cisco, how would you compare your relationship with MS before Sail MS versus now?  CISCO: One of my recent realizations is that MS will always be with me, and I have to work with it. Like the wind, you can’t control it—you adjust. I think of it like packing MS in my suitcase when I travel. As long as I respect it, live as healthy as I can, and slow down when I overdo it, we’re good. Before Sail MS, I read an old journal entry from about a year earlier. I had written, Maybe this is as good as it gets. That shocked me. After I met Zac and started sailing, my life flipped 180 degrees. Now I’m in Greece. The first time I came was two years ago, alone. I was scared, but I went. Sometimes you just have to take that leap of faith. ALLIÉ: That’s awesome. Zac, we’ve heard Cisco’s transformation. What transformations do you hope others experience when they step aboard Sail MS? ZAC: This past season, I had two newly diagnosed participants. One was a 36-year-old British Army Ranger diagnosed just three months earlier. When you get that diagnosis, you decide: victim group or fighter group. Am I going to let this dictate my life? Or am I going to fight tooth and nail? If you’ve lived with MS for five years or more and you choose to board Sail MS, you’re automatically a fighter. People in a victim role wouldn’t choose to fly across the world and live on a sailboat with strangers for a week. For newly diagnosed participants, though, they’re still figuring out who they are. My goal is to help them see themselves in that fighter role. They’re surrounded by people who’ve already chosen that path. It solidifies their identity as warriors. We had a woman, Patty Jean, who calls her MS “Massive Strength.” She’s lived with it for 30 years and lost her husband two years ago. She had more or less given up. Two years ago, she came with us—hesitant at first—and told me afterward it was the best experience of her life. She’s since returned for two more trips, restarted her coaching work, and reignited her life. That’s what Sail MS is about: helping people transform victimhood into victory. ALLIÉ: I love that. You’re not just navigating boats—you’re helping people navigate life with MS. So, Zac, a personal question: when the waters get rough in your own journey, what keeps you steady? ZAC: Breathing, first and foremost. I’ve learned how to breathe since being diagnosed, and I’m still learning. That, and the community we’ve built. Knowing those people are there for me—it’s uplifting. This community keeps me steady. ∎
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