Karah Jones

This year marks my fourth time walking for the Women’s Cancer Walk, and it means far more to me than I ever imagined. Over the years I’ve walked alongside over 30 friends and family, had the honour of being an ambassador last year, and met so many incredible people, all brought together by the same powerful cause.

Cancer isn’t something distant for me, it’s something my family lives with every day. My mum was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer at just 46, and within a year it had spread to her brain. Since then, our lives have been shaped by multiple neurosurgeries and an ongoing, complex journey. It’s not a chapter that neatly closes - it’s ongoing, unpredictable, and asks more of you than you ever think you have to give. But in the middle of that, I’ve witnessed a kind of strength in her that’s hard to put into words. The quiet resilience. The way she keeps showing up, even on the hardest days.

That’s what I carry with me for every single one of those kilometres.

For the past two years, my mum and dad have been waiting for me at the finish line, and I’ve had the privilege of walking my mum across it. Those moments feel bigger than anything because with cancer, you don’t take those moments for granted.

This year, I’m walking with that same hope in my heart. Hoping she’ll be there. Hoping we’ll cross that line together again.

Because this isn’t just a walk anymore - it’s for her, for our family, and for every woman facing a journey like hers.