In 2013 I was diagnosed with sarcoidosis, an autoimmune disorder that chewed a hole in my cerebellum, atrophied various muscles, impaired my vision, balance, coordination and consequently stole my ability to run. I have dedicated the summer of 2018 to regaining my strength, coordination, balance, and relearning how to run. I am participating in a 5k run on September 23rd in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This is my training journal. This is my attempt to grow physically strong again.
Write on. Fight on.
The previous training sessions can be found here, under “Fight on- Summer Training Log”
5:46 am to 7:06 am
Outdoor- 75 degrees
*This week I’m training in Wildwood, New Jersey.
No hurry. No pause.
1 hour and 20 minutes of walking/jogging intervals. Today’s training also included:
- 60 push-ups
- 60 squats
- 40 calf raises
- 40 (each leg) up downs
Jogging block intervals. About 1 mile away from home I came down off the boardwalk and jogged along the sidewalk, only to stop and walk across intersections until I was home.
Quote I’m Thinking about Today:
“I am not going to die from this. I am not going to die from this. I am not going to die from this.”~ Ryan Holiday
During training I visited the Wildwood Vietnam Memorial.
If you’re ever in need of perspective (which I am, which we all are) I suggest visiting a war memorial. It’s humbling. It reminds how fleeting and precious your life is.
I’m proud of the physical accomplishments I have made in the last 27 training sessions, but there are still plenty of moments of doubt. In fact I had a case of can’ts this morning– I can’t do this. It’s too hard. Too painful. I can’t train because I have a blister on my toe. I can’t train because I’m on vacation.
Scanning those engraved names I pictured all those soldiers standing before me. They were alive but dead. They were in their military uniforms. Some had red-stained bandages on their eyes. Some had bowling ball-size holes in their chest. Some were missing limbs.
They were quiet, just waiting for me to say something.
I cleared my throat and thought how they would react to my complaints. Thousands of dead men, most 20 years younger then myself, listening to me bitch about how difficult some things are.
Shut up and get to work.
I moved through the memorial and read the engraved names. I read the last name on the wall, Jessie Alba, and I stood for a quiet moment. A moment where I am alive and breathing and Jessie and the rest of the men are dead. Their fate is our fate. We will all end up names on a wall. We will all die– a simple declaration providing our life with some needed perspective. And a reminder of how brief our time is to live.
From The Previous Training Session-July 2. (July 3 was a planned rest day):
I thought about my teams: my family, colleagues, students, friends. What value do I bring to those teams? Does my presence improve the culture and perspective of the team? Do I increase our chances of success?