The Inaugural Run To Breakthrough

It was July 2020 when I read an article about Ryan Clifford running across Long Island to the Brooklyn Bridge…130+ miles. I remember thinking, What an incredible accomplishment…I couldn’t do that. But beyond the physical feat, it stirred something deep in me. I’d always been moved by stories like Dick Hoyt’s - running races while pushing his son Rick. I began to envision myself running while pushing our clients in adaptive strollers, showing them, and the world, that inclusion, freedom, and joy aren't luxuries reserved for a few; they’re basic human rights.

Though I’ve never lived in the body of someone with a physical disability, I’ve imagined what it must feel like to be fully part of a race, to feel the wind on your face, the rhythm of movement, and the energy of community surrounding you. To feel limitless.

The very next day, I walked into our old Breakthrough office and said to my team, “I want to run 85 miles across Long Island while wheeling our clients in adaptive strollers. And I want to fundraise for an organization that supports this community.”

I had said “I couldn’t”, yet these families prove “You can’t”, “You won’t”, “You will never” - wrong every single day. 

The reactions I received were immediate: “You can’t do that, it’s not safe.” “That’s crazy!”

But I smiled, because I’ve learned something powerful—especially in running a mission-driven business: people often speak from their own limiting beliefs. And that’s not a judgment; it’s just human. We all carry stories we’ve been told or picked up along the way. But I also know this: what you tell yourself becomes true—because you believe it.

What if we started questioning those stories?

There were moments during this journey when the goal felt way beyond my current capacity. But if I didn’t question that—if I didn’t try—how would we ever know what’s possible?

So I trained. Every day. For 8 months. And what I realized is that it was never really about the finish line—it was about the process. The grit. The purpose. The passion behind every mile logged before the sun came up and after long days at work.

2020 was hard. For everyone. No one escaped untouched. But for the special needs community, the weight was especially heavy. Services went virtual. Surgeries were delayed. Parents became therapists, teachers, full-time employees—and still had to be mom or dad. Families already fighting for access to equipment and care found themselves in a whole new battle. And still—they showed up. They adapted. They kept going. Their resilience deserved to be honored.

So when I began dreaming into 2021, I knew I wanted to create something bold and beautiful that brought us together to celebrate that resilience, to remind each of us that we are so much stronger than we think, and to support Angela’s House, a local organization providing vital care and services for medically fragile children.

After months of preparation, September 3rd finally arrived. My goal: to begin at 11 PM in Montauk and finish 85 miles later at Breakthrough by 7 PM the next day. The night before, I stayed with a client’s family so I could rest up. When my dad and brother arrived to crew for me, it hit me—this was really happening. Sleep wasn’t happening though. The anticipation was too big.

At 11 PM, we took off. The night was quiet, cool, and peaceful. My crew car led the way, supported by the Suffolk County Sheriff’s Department and Long Island Road Revival Auto Club as our safety team. Around midnight, we passed through Montauk’s party scene—people hopping between bars for Labor Day weekend. It was surreal. That moment felt like a clear reflection of the road I’ve chosen—different, yes—but so aligned. I laughed then, and now I just feel deep gratitude for the clarity of purpose I’ve found.

The miles ticked by, and my legs felt heavier than expected. Long Island may seem flat, but the hills added up quickly. Around mile 37, Kevin—who had been biking with me since the start—had to stop from cramping. That left me solo for a few miles. Those were tough. I could see the support crew in their cars and wanted so badly to be in there with them. But I kept going.

I knew that at mile 40, my Breakthrough family would be waiting. And they were. My dad got out and ran beside me to get me through those last tough miles before the stop. Then I saw it: a sea of green Run to Breakthrough shirts. And my heart burst.

Each stop was like that. Every group of green shirts I saw reminded me of why I was doing this—and who I was doing it for.

Seeing Michael reminded me of the hours he spent fighting through three-hour sessions just to take his first steps.
Seeing Nate on his scooter brought me back to the balance work it took for him to even ride it so he could keep up with his friends.
Seeing Brooke reminded me of her daily fight—and how she chooses to smile and giggle anyway.
Seeing Sean reminded me of how hard he works every week to stand and walk again.
Seeing Dino brought me back to the grit it took for him to push through his arms and lift his head—again and again.
Seeing Savvy made me think of how scared she once was to be pushed, and how bravely she worked through that to meet her goals.
Seeing DJ reminded me of her relentless determination to overcome hip pain and reclaim her quality of life.
Seeing Alaya reminded me of the endless surgeries and tests she’s endured—and yet the joy and light she brings everywhere she goes.
Seeing Shane reminded me of his unstoppable positivity and how willing he is to try anything to reach his goals.
Seeing Sofia took me back to the tears and triumphs of her early days —and those first steps she worked so hard to take.
And seeing my Breakthrough team… that brought me to tears. I was reminded of the love, the belief, and the commitment they show every single day to serve our mission with their whole hearts.

I’ve stood beside our clients through their struggles and they stood beside me through mine. We were a team. I was brought right back to my heart and to the limitless energy that lives there.

I expected the pain. I expected the fatigue. But I didn’t expect the miracles.

A client rode 7 miles on her bike—the most she’s ever done.
My best friend ran her first marathon distance.
A client’s mom, planning just a few miles, ran 6.
A client’s dad—just hoping to get through a stretch—ran 16.
And my dad ran the final mile with me, after not running in years.

It meant everything to have so many pieces of my family—biological, chosen, and Breakthrough—out there with me that day.

Honestly, it’s hard to put the experience into words. For many of our clients, it was the first time they got to be part of a race. Part of something bigger. And for me, it was beyond anything I could’ve imagined.

At Breakthrough, we challenge our clients every day to push past perceived limits to reach goals that improve their lives and the lives of their families. I hit my walls that day. I felt the pain. But it was nothing compared to the light and energy that our families brought to me—and continue to bring to Breakthrough every day.

I thought they would borrow my legs for the day.
What I didn’t know is—they’d be the ones carrying me.

September 4th, 2021 changed my life.

And I know now, more than ever, that this is just a glimpse of what Breakthrough is capable of. The impact we’ll make in this community—and one day, all over the world.

Christine Astarita