It’s comforting/humbling/nice and even a little weird to know that people enjoy reading my life.
And that after they hadn’t read a new post in a week, some people even contacted me and asked, “Are you okay?”
As a modern man I’ve been groomed to puff out my chest, stare with a set of steely eyes, announce, “I’m fine” and change the conversation.
But you’re here and the truth is: I’m okay. Not great. Not where I was or want to be. But I’m okay.
10 days ago, after an extended vacation where I jogged/walked 3 miles, swam in the ocean, rode in boats and airplanes and cars, I returned home exhausted and feeling “off”.
My balance was unsteady like I was still on a boat. I was physically and emotionally tired and surprisingly lacking enthusiasm to train.
For seven days I moped around the house, moving from bed to couch and binge watching Dwayne Johnson movies on TBS. I felt like a fraud. I had spent the last 9 weeks training and writing about the benefits of training, hoping to help you accomplish your goals and here I was unmotivated and uninspired to change out of my pajamas.
Then this past weekend I went on my 20th annual “Mancation” trip with 9 lifelong friends. Friends, some of which, I only see once a year yet our conversations are magically uninterpreted by time and life.
“Mancation” is uncomplicated. It’s about cheap beer and old friends.
It’s about ball-busting and laughing louder then you have in awhile. It’s about carving time to be with people who’ve been with you the longest and know you best. There is nothing pretentious or forced about what we do.
We descend on a Pocono Mountain resort on Thursday, hang out and act like fools until Sunday winks and reminds us to return to home.
I’m writing this on Post-Mancation Monday and I’m okay.
Physically I’m still “off”. But I remain steadfast in my immediate goal of running a 5k on September 23rd. And my long term goal of healing and triumphing over my autoimmune disease and subsequent brain damage and helping others overcome their own limitations has not wavered. I know, in time, I will physically heal.
Mentally I’m better. I’m better because I’m lucky enough to have old friends who reminded me to not take myself too seriously and that cheap beer served with hearty conversations are always good medicines.
I want you to know I’m okay and thank you so much for asking.