Undaunted Courage

Every one of us has to face challenges from time to time. Some of them are personal, some are physical, some are moral, but they stir within us something that is greater than ourselves. One of the challenges I’m most proud of is completing the AIDS LifeCycle – an event raising money to care for people living with HIV and AIDS and the service organizations that care for them.  It involved training far beyond my then 49 year-old frame was prepared for. I thought I was at least a decent cyclist until I came across some of those nasty damned hills in Orange County. I had some days where I felt like I just had to pull over and throw the bicycle off the side of the road and call it quits, but I had a whole team-load of people encouraging me, cajoling me, prodding me, and teasing me to keep going. After all, I was training for an event that wasn’t about me.

 

So, I gave up what I had of a social life and trained on Saturdays and as the event got closer, other days of the week as well. I put up with the blowing sand near Solana Beach and saved a bundle on that microdermabrasion treatment I wasn’t considering, I learned how to change flat tires, and I learned a lot of humility and life lessons along the way. I won’t say that I didn’t have just a little trepidation about doing this 545-mile ride, but I was determined. I had supporters, both financial and physical that made it possible and I had beneficiaries, some I’d visited in training, some I’d heard about as a teammate carried their names on military-style dog tags around his neck, and some I’d met on the side of the road thanking us for remembering their loved ones.  It was profoundly moving because it wasn’t just an ego investment in riding my bicycle a long distance. It forced me to take my eyes off my poor achin’ bod and keep these very real people ever before me. I was inspired, I was moved to tears many times, and I was never the same afterward. My very much daunted and intimidated self was forever changed in the course of a week.

 

I had registered to ride this same event this year and had I not been saddled with a bit of a medical setback at the Salt Lake City VA with an IV pole, would have crossed the line at the Los Angeles VA amid the cheers of the thronging multitude.  No, really…it is a crowd that will make you cry no matter how macho you think you are. I followed my teammates via Facebook as they rode down the coast with pride and envy. They really became an extended family of sorts and I broke out my orange beanie in solidarity with Team OC this week. I can’t say that I’ll have the strength to ride in 2014, but I’m going to do my best to see them off or greet them at the finish line next year…and depending on how my health is the following year, I’ll be looking at making my way down the coast in 2015!

Despite the physical and mental demands of something like this, I did it! (Read about it here if you like). I overcame my doubts, my physical limitations and stretched beyond. In the process, I changed. It made me into someone else. I had someone equate the event to a religious experience, and I guess in a way it was. I think that any major challenge will touch your spirit in some way and you have to rise to that occasion or be destined to repeat the lesson some other way. Suffice it to say, a cancer diagnosis is one of those things that steers your eyes at things that you wouldn’t otherwise look. I’ve written about a number of those things, but it’s fair to say that there are yet many of those lessons in humility, life lessons, and opportunities to face my fears and overcome them.

I believe you can face your own fear with undaunted courage without having to face your mortality. Maybe in my case, that’s the only way for me to stop tending my many irons in the fire long enough to take care of myself for a change.  Maybe not.  I’ll be able to look back at some point and say with some certainty what that is. My hope is that I don’t doom myself to repeat the lesson by ignoring what’s in front of me. I’m still a bit spooked about the future, but I’ve spoken with enough people to know that I can do this. I may falter along the way; I may feel like pulling over and chucking the IV pole out the window; I may feel like my courage just isn’t enough to carry me through, but just like my Team OC compadres, I need you, dear reader to be alongside me.  This, like the commitment to ALC I made, is a long-term deal.  I’ve been told by every survivor that it takes a good year, post-transplant, to feel 100%. I don’t anticipate being sick very much of that time, but healing isn’t a short-term process and it’s not something I can do solo. I need you – all of you.



This is my extended SoCal family - Team OC (Orange County)
at the end of a long, hard, week, yesterday - June 8, 2013.
You can't manufacture those smiles!

I'm sharing a couple of things from this year’s ALC, which ended yesterday, mainly my teammates who gave me the courage to keep going under some pretty rough conditions that included an evacuation by the Red Cross on day 2. Hypothermia for all my friends (and me, too) as well as a video that was shot during last year’s event. It is this kind of support, this kind of pushing through the discomfort, this kind of looking past the here and now to the hopeful future that keeps me going some days. I also want to challenge you to face your fear with undaunted courage and to cheer others on who are giving their all as they plod up a steep hill in their own journey. It’s OK to have reservations, bad days, or even tears, but with people alongside you, you can rise up, get back in the saddle, and succeed…and become a different person in the end.

Be well, stay strong, and much love to you all!

Today’s music:  Don’t Give Up by Peter Gabriel

In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my face, I've changed my name
But no-one wants you when you lose

Don't give up 'cause you have friends
Don't give up you're not beaten yet
Don't give up I know you can make it good

Though I saw it all around
Never thought that I could be affected
Thought that we'd be last to go
It is so strange the way things turn
Drove the night toward my home
The place that I was born, on the lakeside
As daylight broke, I saw the earth
The trees had burned down to the ground

Don't give up you still have us
Don't give up we don't need much of anything
Don't give up 'cause somewhere there's a place where we belong

Rest your head
You worry too much
It's going to be alright
When times get rough
You can fall back on us
Don't give up
Please don't give up

Got to walk out of here
I can't take anymore
Going to stand on that bridge
Keep my eyes down below
Whatever may come
and whatever may go
That river's flowing
That river's flowing

Moved on to another town
Tried hard to settle down
For every job, so many men
So many men no-one needs

Don't give up 'cause you have friends
Don't give up you're not the only one
Don't give up no reason to be ashamed
Don't give up you still have us
Don't give up now we're proud of who you are
Don't give up you know it's never been easy
Don't give up 'cause I believe there's a place
There's a place
Where we belong

Somebody Else




 This blue jay used to light on his hand
earning its reward of a peanut. It was
a show he always enjoyed giving!
 

 

Today would have been my grandfather’s 100^th birthday. He was a great combination of wise soul, cantankerous curmudgeon, and if you pressed him, you might see an undercurrent of the compassionate ol’ guy as I remember him. The last few years of his life were marked with the typical maladies of old age, but from having spoken to those closest to him, the one that I think robbed him of his will to live was macular degeneration – he essentially went blind. The things he had grown accustomed to over his long, rich life were difficult if not outright impossible without his sight. I have no doubt that, had this happened to him even 10 years ago, he’d have found a way to ride that lawn mower in summer and clear the driveway of snow in winter. Last June at the incredible age of 99, his body and mind finally had a pow-wow and … well, I’m sure he just found something else to do in some other place. (Here are my thoughts from a year ago when he passed away).


So, although I’ve had anything but a medically boring day, my mind hasn’t been on me, but him. It has also been on the group of cyclists in Orange County, CA - Team OC - with whom I rode over 500 miles last June to raise money for HIV/AIDS. They’re coming down to the wire as I would have as well. Suffice it to say, I retired my number this year. Next year? I’m hopeful to be with them. My mind has also been on a former co-worker who dropped me an email over the weekend.  He just returned to full-time work after his own bout with a blood cancer, so it started my day off with great hope. Yup, my mind has been all over the map today, so what I’d like to do instead of comment on one of the topics that is on my list, I’d really like to hear from you…specifically:

-          I enjoy posting a music video that has a theme to what I’m going through, but the thing is this – music really affects me in a number of ways, the most poignant of which encourages me to look beyond the here and now. I have a few left in the hopper, but what I’m hoping you can do is send me a list of songs that lift you out of your own malaise.  I’m listing out the songs I’ve posted to-date.  Give me a holler if one resonates with you. I’d be interested in finding out the what and the why.

 

-          Perhaps you have questions that you might not otherwise ask. To put this in context, I went to a Team in Training Kick-off on Saturday. I’ve been chosen as one of five honorees – essentially the local face of leukemia so that the people training for half or full marathons can put a face to the disease they’re raising money for.  One of the other honorees is a little guy of about 4 or 5 years old, if that much. You can see him in the picture next to me.  He has had a rough bout with ALL, but he’s doing well.  His dad spoke to the group about their experience, but one thing that he did that stood out to me is that he wouldn’t use the word, “cancer” in his presentation.  In fact, the PowerPoint presentation had the word like this c$#*@ as if it’s a cuss word.  If you’ve read my postings, you know I won’t hide nor will I try to elicit sympathy, but rather face this monster head-on. With that in mind, ask me whatever.  If it’s something I can share publicly, I’ll write about it, respecting your privacy of course.

 

Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) Team in Training
Utah branch. These folks are running half or full marathons
to raise money for LLS to cure blood cancers. The little guy
in the middle with the purple jersey is an ALL survivor;
along with another woman hiding in the back in one of the

red shirts, we are five honorees for whom the team is running.
We're like poster children (you know I'm a big kid).

-          I’m still looking for entries in to my “Perfect Moment” contest. My investment has been in people my adult life and I’m reasonably sure that’s why I’ve had such amazing support from people out in cyber-land – because the majority of people who read this know me well enough that, had we been in the same geographical location, I’d see them on my doorstep. And actually, I have. They’re the same people I’d be visiting as well if the tables were turned. So, please, tell me about your perfect moments (see this posting for the details).

So, really, I’d like to hear about you today.  Take a few minutes and drop me a line either via email or if you like, a Facebook message (please don’t post it to my wall) as I’m as interested in you as you are in me. It’s how this works. When this is all over and I’m no longer a cancer patient wrapped up in medical detail, relationships continue to grow; and the best ones only use electronic media – they don’t stay there.

Be well, stay strong, and seriously, much love to you all!

OK, since we're talking about a couple of athletic events to raise money for charitable organizations, both of which I'm personally invested in - one as a participant and the other as, well...a participant (different kind of course).  Today's music: Win by Brian McKnight from the movie, Men of Honor.

 

Dark is the night
I can weather the storm
Never say die
I've been down this road before

I'll never quit
I'll never lay down
See, I've promised myself
That I'd never let me down, so

I'll never give up, never give in
Never let a ray of doubt slip in
And if I fall, I'll never fail
I'll just get up and try again

Never lose hope, never lose faith
There's much too much at stake
Upon myself I must depend
I'm not looking for place to show,
I'm gonna win

No stopping now
There's still a ways to go
Ohh, someway, somehow
Whatever it takes I know

I'll never quit, no, no
I'll never go down
I'll make sure they remember my name
A hundred years from now

I'll never give up, never give in
Never let a ray of doubt slip in
And if I fall, I'll never fail
I'll just get up and try again

Never lose hope, never lose faith
There's much too much at stake
Upon myself I must depend
I'm not looking for place or show,
I'm gonna win

When it's all said and done
My once in a lifetime, won't be back again
Now is the time, to take a stand
Here is my chance, that's why I

Never give up, never give in
Never let a ray of doubt slip in
And if I fall, I'll never fail
I'll just get up and try again

Never lose hope, never lose faith
There's much too much at stake
Upon myself I must depend
I'm not looking for place to show,
I'm gonna win