Attack Challenges but Know Your Limits...or Friends: The Best Motivation

I had trouble titling this blog, so I gave it two titles. I hope you don't mind.

My earliest memories involve family, friends, and doctors educating me on the importance of keeping up with my medications and therapy along with staying fit and active. This is sound advice for anyone, but for a person with a chronic illness, following this advice means the difference between spending long bouts in a hospital bed and spending weeks living life free of being hospitalized. I am very fortunate to have been instilled with a great work ethic and motivation to stay healthy. Until recently, I prided myself on having the outlook that I am capable of doing anything that anyone else can do--Cystic Fibrosis be damned. This outlook faded quickly the day I geared up for Loveland, Ohio's Amazing Race.

Before getting into the story of my overestimation of myself, tragic downfall, and self-realization--similar to Aristotle's tragic hero but without the noble birth part--I believe it relevant to detail some of what Loveland's Amazing Race entails. It is a long day of fun-filled, competitive activities that only light-hearted yet sadistic minds could create. Activities like moving a bowling ball through an obstacle course with a fire hose or filling a barrel of water using a bucket brigade or sliding down a 20-foot hill into a pool of mud without spilling your cup of water are just a few of the ridiculous challenges that must be completed along a several mile stretch that a team must run, walk, bike, and swim. Looking at the list of events and the distance that must be travelled, my teammate, Justin and I thought, "Heck, we got this!"

And we might have had that until I developed a severe lung infection two weeks prior to the start of the race. I had to be placed on inhaled antibiotics for one month. I considered bowing out of the race, but Justin and friends convinced me otherwise. "We'll take it slow and see how you feel," Justin encouraged, "Come on; it'll be fun." I decided to give it a go, but I underestimated Justin's competitive drive, and I overestimated by damaged lungs' ability to cope with nearly three hours of intense physical activity. I kept up with Justin for the first ten minutes of the race, and then I felt my lungs tighten and my strength dissipate.

Never before did I feel like I let someone down as I took break after break while Justin peddled his bike nearly a mile ahead of me, maybe in hopes of motivating me to put forth that extra effort. Several minutes behind Justin, I would arrive at each event gasping for air and barely able to complete the challenge. After dragging behind for over half the race, I detected Justin's competitive spirit transition from what appeared to be disappointment into a spirit of motivation. This race was nothing like U.S. Marines carrying a wounded comrade miles to safety, but it was as close to that experience as I have ever come.

I was in no danger (except for being on the brink of passing out), and Justin was under no obligation to stick by my side as we painfully watched other competitors, including his wife and my fiance, pass us by. Sympathetic words of motivation pushed me to dig deep, to conquer my lungs' inability to expand. I stopped trying to take deep breaths and started to take short, choppy breaths. This irregular breathing pattern created a pain in my chest, but Justin was there to help me push through it. "I'll help you up if you fall down; I'll carry you if you can't run; I'll pull you if you can't swim," encouraged Justin, "but if you want to quit, we can quit."

His words resonated through my mind. "No. Just give me a minute," I gasped as Justin waited, hands on his knees, watching me struggle to find a breathing pattern that didn't send jolts of pain throughout my exhausted body. I saw a different Justin that day, and I haven't seen that Justin since that day. He still has no mercy on the basketball court, hasn't stopped asking me to run a full marathon with him, and he doesn't talk about helping me to complete The Amazing Race. He doesn't treat me like a "CF kid" as coaches and players have done throughout middle and high school. He made me realize that I could finish that race. And we did finish: 31st place in our division.

Justin and I at the finish line of Loveland's Amazing Race 2010

After that race, two questions worked their way into my psyche: Am I at times overconfident about my physical abilities? And can anything signficant ever be accomplished without a friend's encouragement? I believe the answer to the first question is that one must be confident; otherwise, nobody would challenge themselves. In regards to the second question, the answer is a resounding, "No!" So, surround yourself with people who won't just tell you to keep going, but people who truly believe you can.

~Scott 

Is It in the Cards?

According to a 2008 study from the CF Foundation Patient Registry, the median life expectancy for a person with Cystic Fibrosis is 37.4 years of age. I'm 29.2 years old. I don't want to live life like the last few grains of sand are about to slide into the bottom bulb of my hourglass as Tim McGraw suggests in his song "Live Like You Were Dying." Nor do I want to live life as if tomorrow is a guarantee. I find myself basking in-between these two outlooks. Allow me to explain.

If I pursued every dream and every goal as if I had a finite period of time to accomplish these things, then there would be very little enjoyment in each experience. My life would be one large checklist. Who wants that? (Now, I’m not dismissing the importance of checklists; they're great for things like groceries and holiday shopping, but they are simply not ideal in regards to life events).  The opposite school of thought would then be to live life recklessly with no regrets as Hinder’s Austin Winkler sings about in “The Best Is Yet to Come.” Though little responsibility sounds appealing, I personally would regret missing out on conquered challenges and achieved goals. In fact, I would regret my lack of achievements. This is not to take away from Mr. Winkler’s achievements; he achieved rock stardom and has affected millions of lives with his lyrics. I am a teacher. I have positively impacted thousands of lives with my guidance, experiences, and compassion...maybe more with this blog.

The other side of the coin suggests that I should live my life as if I don’t have a disease and take my unlimited days for granted. Well, that just sounds foolish and unwise, yet we all do this. Have you ever said or thought, “I’ll get to that tomorrow.” What if there was no tomorrow? I guess you just won’t get to that thing…right? I will leave you with this final thought and comparison.

I like to think that I play my hand in life like Maverick (Mel Gibson) plays his final hand of poker in Maverick (1994). He allows the last card to lay face down and makes his bet while believing that card is the card he needs: the ace of spades. I’m the type who doesn’t like to look at my cards. I simply believe that the card I need is going to be there. Whether that card takes the form of another birthday celebration or a short trip to the grocery store with my lovely fiancé, I neither want to plan for it or expect it to happen; I just believe it will happen. That does not mean that I don't play the odds. I do what I can to maintain my health by staying active, keeping on top of colds, and following doctors' orders, but I do not allow my opponent to bluff me out of living my life. Who knew, other than Phil Hellmuth, that one could create an extended metaphor of life using five-card stud? Go me!


~Scott

Ignorance Is Hardly Bliss

"Ignorance is bliss." Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) so casually states while enjoying a luscious bite of digital steak in 1999's blockbuster hit The Matrix. Despite having the knowledge that the world in which he was living was a utopia designed by human-hungry machines, Cypher's words have stuck with me. If I just pretend like I don't have a disease, then maybe I won't have to deal with all that having Cystic Fibrosis entails. That idea works well in theory, but if George Bailey (James Stewart) taught us anything from one of my all-time favorites It's a Wonderful Life (1946), it is that life is difficult, and a person must face and own his demons, which will make him a better individual.

Riding high through high school because everyone knew that I had Cystic Fibrosis and they were okay with that, made college an eye-opening experience. It was in college where I developed relationships with adult motives. When a significant other and I would begin to talk about the future, she would reply, "What future? You can't have kids, and if you could, would you live long enough to help raise them?" Good question. That is something that my ignorant mind never had to deal with in high school. I did not think about that aspect of the future. I was more focused on college graduation and finding a career. The truth is, that girl's concerns were legitimate. I didn't have the answers for her, and we inevitably parted ways. This scenario played out multiple times before I met my current fiance.

"We'll face that bridge when we come to it," is her reply. We have already considered options such as in vitro fertilization or adoption. We still haven't come to that bridge, but it is on the horizon. It is difficult to watch a relationship fall apart because of your inadequacies. If your partner wants a family and you can't produce that, then like so many celebrity marriages, you testify irreconcilable differences and go your separate ways. For awhile, I wondered if that was how my life would turn out - lonely and bleak. Though I adore Edgar Allan Poe's writing, I didn't want to suffer the same end. I maintained my attainable goals and let the rest up to fate. Now, I'm proud to say fate has dealt a hand in my favor.

Although it's so easy to be ignorant, and far less painful, it is not a way of life as Cypher suggests. So, make like Montressor from Poe's "Cask of Amontillado" and confront your problems...just don't wall them up within the catacombs.

~Scott