Been a while since I’ve posted anything … hope everyone’s well! I’m doing okay, overall … The last time I ran a 5K and really tried I was 43 years old, and my goal was to break 20 minutes – I came up short with a 20:50 (6:43 pace) … A few weeks ago we were at the beach and I entered a 5K “fun run” (something about saving the turtles) … it was as low key a race as you will ever see, but in some ways it was the biggest race of my life. My goal was to “run” the whole thing and break a whopping 40 minutes this time – I came in at 37 and some change (just over 12-minute miles). Slow as mud, but I was on top of the world! If my shaking manboobs and creaky knee hadn’t held me back, I think I could’ve approached 30. Unfortunately, I’ve had a few setbacks since then. I’ve been trying to get off the few meds I’m still on from chemo & surgery and either 1. My body still needs the meds, 2. I don’t really need the meds, but my body’s not adjusting well to coming off them, 3. I’ve got something else going on, 4. I’m a complete jackass and I’m pushing things too hard and expecting too much, or 5. Some combo of the above. Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details, but a lot of ups and downs physically (one day dizzy, crazy fatigue, etc., the next day I’m out running – hard to make sense of it.). One thing everyone has agreed on is that I am indeed a complete jackass and I may need to dial things back a hair. The other thing I need to do is go back in for a few tests to make sure everything under the hood’s working properly.
With all that being said, Paddle Boy (aka Logan Welsh) and I are signed up for the VentureQuest Adventure Race on 9/19. I think it’s a 6-hour gig … Logan promised he’d drag me around if necessary, but he has since discovered a big chunk of cartilage he’s gotta get removed from his knee. God-willing, I’ll get through this stretch and my scans in late August will be okay, Paddle Boy will recover quickly, and we’ll finish in at least 2nd-to-last place. I also really would like to get in a 5K in under 30 – manboob jokes aside, that’s a goal I’m serious about … oh, and one more update: I’m rockin’ curls for the first time in my life – like tight curls – like almost-but-not-quite Bradley Cooper in American Hustle curls – I call it my $100,000 perm, because it’s the only thing I got outta $100,000 worth of chemo …
NOW FOR THE IMPORTANT STUFF:
Other than the fact I’ve been trying to forget I still have cancer in my lungs, there’s a good reason I haven’t posted in a while. Several months ago, Ken Burns came out with his 3-part docuseries on Ernest Hemingway, and it really reignited my interest in old Papa. I’ve always been skeptical of Hemingway – both his abilities as a writer and the larger-than-life myth he became. Anyway, the docuseries had me doing a deep dive back into his work and I discovered a new appreciation for it. He had his highs and lows, but to put it in scholarly terms … the dude could write (The Snows of Kilimanjaro is as good as it gets IMO). As for the myth … fascinating case of a very conflicted human who created the persona he wanted and then got stuck trying to live up to it. The bullfighting, the hunting, the fishing, the war stories – I mean, c’mon, the guy traveled around with boxing gloves and offered $100 to anyone who could drop him! Don’t get me wrong, Hemingway was a legit badass in many ways, but there was something there I could never quite buy into – he just seemed to be trying awfully hard. Side Note: funny thing is, I can remember boxing with my buddies when we were younger … I distinctly remember 3 things about that: my college roommate’s (that’s you Mase) long curly hair flopping around like a character outta Fraggle Rock (it was very distracting); a friend (that’s you Stokes, if you’re out there) knocking me clear over our living room couch one time; and another buddy (yes, Ray Ray Santangelo, wherever you are), ducking and dodging around a steel support pole in the basement of Z’s parent’s house on Martha’s Vineyard (totally not fair to use the pole like that, man). Double Side Note: I joined a real boxing gym in Atlanta after college, and I got to spar with the Georgia State Middleweight Golden Gloves Champion (for my benefit, not his). His name was Leroy Brooks. He ended up just missing the 1996 Olympic team by one fight and then turned pro and went 12-6. I actually have a video tape of us in the ring. It’s very sad. I’m supposed to be honing my defense, and you can hear the coach yelling “uppercut Leroy,” and a microsecond later my head snaps back … then “left hook Leroy,” and a microsecond later my head snaps around. On and on we went, the coach telling Leroy how to hit me … then Leroy hitting me. Just before the video cuts off, you can hear the coach yelling at me to stop closing my eyes. Sad, indeed.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the important stuff. One thing that always irked me about Hemingway was the way he talked about writing. All this melodramatic mumbo jumbo about the “craft” etc. He’d say things like “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed,” and he was fond of talking about writing “one true sentence,” as if such a thing exists and as if the discovery of said sentence was akin to finding the Holy Grail. Let’s just say the guy took writing seriously. Well, I’ve been taking writing a little more seriously myself the past year or so (more on that to come), and somewhere between watching the docuseries on Hemingway and re-reading his works, I stopped mocking the man and started appreciating his lifelong devotion to his work.
Right about this same time (this was back in late May or early June), I went on a walk with Frankie Two Phones and when he asked how I was doing, I told him I was afraid … afraid of all the things one naturally fears when faced with a very uncertain future, but most afraid of this: losing all the truths I was blessed to discover during the worst times of diagnosis/prognosis/chemo/surgery. You see, I was on an upswing at the time – I’d gotten the surgery I wanted and was recovering quickly, and I’d just had a scan that showed the cancer in my lungs was stable and I was good to go til the end of summer. I’d started having visions of living another 20 or 30 years (still do, damnit!). But as I accelerated away from the nightmare of the previous months, I quickly found myself back in the grip of daily life – back in the center of the river if you will, getting swept downstream by a whitewater current of petty distractions and worries that are, in the end, meaningless. That got me thinking about last winter, walking up and down my driveway at night in a mixed state of profound depression, yet profound understanding. Depression, for obvious reasons. Understanding, in that I’d somehow been given brief glimpses of something previously unimaginable … like the curtain had been pulled back for just a moment, and for the first time in my life I understood it all: purpose, time, life, love, God. Cancer has 4 stages, and I’m in the last one. But somewhere along the way I’d been given a look at something beyond, something that transcends everything – I like to think of it as Stage 5. And I can remember praying that I would get to live a while in this new stage, with this new understanding. I know what you’re thinking … “Wow, speaking of mumbo jumbo – Hemingway’s got nothing on you, brother!”
Anyway, on our walk back in May, I ended up telling F2P I was going to go home and try to write this “understanding” down – put some of these “truths” I didn’t want to forget on paper, before they slipped away from me completely. You can guess what happened … next time you want writer’s block, try to capture a “glimpse behind the curtain” with words. Damn, that’s a lot of pressure. Add on the fact I had Hemingway in my ear talking about writing “one true sentence,” and it was all too much. I was afraid to try and write anything, let alone a list of purported “truths.” But it’s time. Here are a few things I’ve been reminding myself of each morning I wake up. Call it the beginning of my Stage 5 list. It’s nowhere near exhaustive, but I’ve got to start somewhere. Also, let it be said in no way is this intended to be a list for anyone other than myself. We each have our own paths to follow, our own set of beliefs, our own ways of articulating our own truths, as they’re revealed to us in our own lives …
Today is the only day. The past and the future exist only in the thoughts and emotions I allow myself to have about them right now, in this moment, today. So, get busy living. Take things in stride. Do good. Savor all the blessings, big and small, that come your way. But most of all, stay in today.
What’s my mission? God has a purpose and a plan for me, but only to the extent I’m willing to seek out that purpose and accept that plan. If I’m open, if I’m seeking, if I’m accepting, there will come at least one moment today when a purpose will be revealed. It might be big (running into a burning building to save a life – not likely, but you never know – hey, maybe that’s why I need to get faster?). It might be mid-sized (dropping what I’m doing and reaching out to someone I know is in need). It might be very small (just holding the door for someone at the gas station or bringing a smile out in someone that really needs one). Regardless of import, if my heart and mind are open, I’ll recognize these moments, these purposes. And when I fulfill them – when I become an instrument of God’s will – I’ll feel great joy and peace.
Have gratitude. You feel closest to God in moments of gratitude. It’s a direct line to the Big Man, and it never fails. All things you’ve been given, all blessings bestowed on you, everything you have or ever will accomplish, come from above. Big and small. A good scan, a nice vacation, a positive book review? Thank God. A great cup of coffee, a favorite song coming on the radio, or finding the kids somehow overlooked the leftover pizza in the fridge? Thank God. You’ll have a thousand reasons to be thankful today. Try to recognize them and give thanks.
You are not alone. 7+ billion lives. There are 7+ billion lives, other than your own, unfolding on this planet, right now. Stop for a moment and imagine: An old dude farming a rice paddy in China, a single mom juggling work and kids in Nairobi, a snazzy banker in Switzerland, a newborn baby in a NICU in Sydney, a roofer pounding nails in the Texas sun, a homeless teen in Tacoma, a monk in Tibet, the Queen of England … 7+ billion lives, right now … and you are connected to each of them. Close your eyes and you can feel that connection, in fact. Regardless of our differences, we’re all children of God – all manifestations of the same life force, if you will. And we all share the following: each of our lives is filled with triumphs and defeats, hope and despair, joy and suffering. Life is messy sometimes, and we are all imperfect. But life is a beautiful blessing too, and we’re all in it together. You are connected, you are a part of something bigger, you are not alone.
Your life is the blink of an eye. No matter how you approach it, from the known history of the cosmos or the concept of eternity as put forth in scripture, your life in this world is the blink of an eye – finite and fleeting. That’s okay. In fact, take comfort in this. Don’t take things so seriously. There’s more than this – more to life than … life. You know it. You feel it. Eventually, you’ll get to experience it. In the meantime, don’t seek heaven on earth, eternity in this life, just focus on doing good and taking pleasure in the small blessings, the beautiful moments, the clarity, and the connections.
Have faith in your faith, as imperfect as it is. Foxhole faith is real, because foxholes are real. Don’t doubt your faith because it drops out of focus a little when things are going well. No matter how blessed a life you live, one thing is certain: you will eventually find yourself in a foxhole, and the faith that comes out then, the comfort you take in it, is real. Respect that faith. Grow that faith. If this is a bad day, lean on that faith. If this is a good day, don’t forget to pay it its due. And while you’re at it, speaking of faith, don’t be so clever that you end up a fool. Remember what you once wrote: “I won’t deny religion can’t seem to get out of its own way. It’s as primitive and imperfect as we are, I suppose. But it’s what we have. We have to get the nail in the wood somehow, don’t we? We don’t look at a hammer and list its inefficiencies. We pick it up and let it swing, right?”
Know your legacy. If every ambition you’ve ever had in your entire life somehow came to fruition, at best, in a few generations, you’d still be just a footnote. You only have one legacy on this earth: how much and how well you love, and how that love impacts the lives around you. So, go ahead, have ambition, set goals, chase dreams. Take pleasure in the chase, and give thanks when things work out. But don’t mistake any of it for the real thing. Live today knowing what your true legacy will be.
Okay then, well, at least it’s a start … a couple of important closing notes … Shout out to Margie Hernandez, who took a chunk of her day to hop on the phone with me last week to discuss my meds (she’s a pharmacist). Thanks Margie, for the commonsense insights and the compassionate pep talk!
Also, I mentioned above there’s more to come regarding the topic of writing … I’ve got a few things I want to get down and out there on this subject, as it’s loomed large in my life the past year, and I’ve recently gotten to the finish line on a few things. So, we’ll be talking again soon – i.e. I’ll be talking and you’ll be ignoring, skimming, or losing another chunk of your day that you’ll never get back …
Finally, I’d like to humbly ask all the folks out there who’ve continued to keep us in their prayers to maybe shift some over to somebody who’s played a huge role in my life, my cousin (more like a brother), Jim Pendergast. Jim has been a soul-brother of mine from the day I showed up in Colorado half my life ago (he was the only person I knew in the state at the time!). I’ve learned a lot from him over the years, about life, living in the mountains, and more recently, about dealing with cancer. Jim’s a fellow Stage 4 man, but he’s given me some Stage 5 insights over the past year too. Anyway, he’s been through a real tough stretch the last month or two … Jim, we got your back, man! We’ll keep up the prayers, and you keep up the fight. We love you, brother!
Peace out …