Flashbacks

I hope everyone is well. Thanks for all of the ideas on how to get stronger both mentally and physically that many of you sent me regarding my last blog. It was much appreciated.

It was a tough weekend. As I mentioned, my dad threw out his back and gets his MRI results today. As I saw him laying there in pain and not really wanting to talk, it reminded me of myself when I was on IV’s and would not talk to anyone. I don’t know if my dad will go into depression or have other issues but I sure did. It visibly affected me and I know that Andrea could tell. Seeing him brought back the flashbacks of being lazy, being a terrible family man and finding myself in a very dark place. Then I saw my mom and saw how hard she was trying to help and it reminded me of Andrea, who at the time was pregnant and dealing with a 2 year old, and how hard she worked to make my days less depressing. Yet still I made it very tough on her during that time and even after. I remember my friend Jonathan stopping by during that time and saying I didn’t look like the same person. It was as if someone took the life out of me and it took me a very long time to get it back. I wish I’d seen a therapist earlier in my life. I needed it.


I hinted to many of you last time about my childhood traumas growing up. One of them includes being beaten up by a babysitter when I was in grammar school. He would hit me constantly. It always seemed to be on a Friday night when we were watching the Incredible Hulk, which was quite fitting since he would hit me like he was an animal. I talk more openly about it in the book but I believe that those actions caused me to be afraid of conflict today. I also think that’s how I learned to keep secrets initially. I was afraid to disclose things about myself. I think that is also why I was shy growing up. He threatened me that if I ever told, something bad would happen to me and he would be the one to hurt me. Between those actions, another traumatic event that I’ll discuss another time and finding out that I had a life-threatening disease that would someday take my life, I had a very rough early grammar school period. My formative years were full of tough learning experiences that I believe even an adult would have had issues trying to cope. It also didn’t help that several of my classmates asked me if I was going to die from CF. I was an emotional wreck then and really that never stopped. I just got better at hiding it.

I'm thinking of writing a letter to that babysitter one day and just not sending it. I feel like I need to get this anger inside of me to go away and I never got closure on this issue. I saw a picture of him on Facebook a couple of years ago so I know he is out there. He probably thought that the kid with CF would not live a long life and he wouldn't have to worry about me confronting him. Maybe he'll get the letter he never expected one day from the kid he never should have beaten.

It is 6 days till the Peachtree and I think I’m more nervous for this one than my first one. First of all, it’s been over 100 degrees with humidity the last few weeks. Secondly, I can’t train out here. It will kill my lungs. Third, our start time on Sunday is pretty late which means it will be really hot when we get started. Fourth and finally, this has been a tough health year for me and it will not be easy to complete 6.2 miles with a less than 100% me and extremely humid conditions. This will be my 14th Peachtree. I never thought I’d run one so I’m going to go into this thinking that I’ve done it 13 other times. I can do it again.

I’ve increased my workouts the last few weeks as far as weights go. I’ve been lifting more weight and doing more sets. I like to beat myself up before the big race. I know that’s probably the opposite of what I should do but it prevents me from getting soft. It must be working because I was carrying a few big screen TV’s this weekend and carrying the kids while we did the trampoline at Play at Roswell, which I highly recommend for those of you who want to tire out your children on a Saturday or Sunday. I look at it like Rocky in Rocky IV where he was finding new ways to train. Instead of picking up a carriage with several people in it though, I’m carrying 2 rambunctious kids and a Panasonic 42” TV. Close enough.

So while at Play yesterday, Avery stopped me in the middle of our jumping session and said “Daddy, I love you.” During my depression-filled days, I took these moments for granted and there were fewer of them anyway. Now though, I take this moment and bottle it up and consider it as big an accomplishment as writing a book or running with the Torch. Having your daughter, without any prompting, telling you that she loves you is better than anything I could have ever imagined. Ethan, still a daddy’s boy, says “Dad-dy!” in the sweetest voice and then he runs to me and puts his head on my shoulder. Again, those moments can’t be replicated nor can they be replaced with anything. I’m truly grateful to have a loving family. Now it’s my turn to return that loving to them.

Well, that’s enough rambling today. I hope no one has a case of the Mondays (Office Space reference).

Andy