The Narrative To Come

 “Narrative is one of the best intoxicants or tranquilizers.” ― S. Byatt, Still Life

I imagine most, if not all of us, have stories we tell ourselves, songs we listen to, something that makes our inner self release what we want to come out. Maybe it's right, maybe it's wrong, maybe it's neither but life with a better flow makes a little sense. 

People have said about this blog, or my speeches or even work presentations that I'm good at narrative. I may just be doing awake what we all do at night, writing a story that connects the randomly received to the remembered reality. But here I am again, reflecting on one more year of cancer. Remember, remember the 5th of November, 13 into them, 12 anniversaries where the damage in my brain is relegated to still being secondary to life. 

I celebrate it or acknowledge it in someway every year, every year. That is more times than I have acknowledged my birthday in the entirety of my life and if it makes will surpass the wedding anniversaries I've celebrated despite being married twice. This year, acknowledging that some people you adore and appreciate deserve quality level stuff, I had a "what ages well" themed celebration Saturday night asking people to bring fine wine (even throughout the dare that whoever brought one from the same year I was diagnosed got extra points). 

There were more bottles brought than drank but early on, someone brought one called Austin Hope and as they did they asked me to make a toast. It was off the cuff and I don't remember it all but it started with a joke about how I often get paid to speak and they weren't paying enough for me going very long. I shared the appreciation of those in the area and those not there and I finished remembering that almost to the minute 12 years ago I was being admitted to a hospital and because I had shared that I had something going on in my brain, good friends were coming into the room. When others showed, the nurses asked them "Are you here for the party room?" and pointed them the right way. 12 years later, the party goes on! Who can't say cheers to that?

It was low key, talking to old and new friends from the one who helped raise money to get me to brain surgery, to the one who ran with me outside the hospital and helped keep me safe in the marathon I put off brain surgery for (they just had a baby!), to the one who flew me back from Duke to different ones along the way, most more established friendship but some brand new ones to though those I could count on one hand; this was a more established relationship invitation primarily. Even Kiana realized how important it was because while she was supposed to be at her mom's for the weekend she was there for it. 

We broke in the newly built patio (the previous one rotted) and it was the first real gathering since pre pandemic with roughly as many years as I've been alive people coming through and going. At the end of the night we had finished exactly 12 bottles of wine, some light, some dark, some blends, one non alcoholic. Speaking of good stories that seemed like a good parallel to the last dozen years. 

It would be dishonest to say that between year 11 and 12 was not by far the suckiest time of my life ever and well... that's saying something. But it took a little bit of fire and hope to realize that even during the rough times, I want s'more. 

The next day I ran a 10 mile race that I once ran by myself in under 60 minutes, that I once ran with Kiana in a stroller in 63 minutes and that I ran next to Kiana in about 75. The muscles are worn and tired these days and still have unexplained deficiencies. I barely beat Kiana's time. But at the finish line and now, I realized that while it may be what got the world's attention, my speed was a release point not the point itself. The playlist I have made for the last few races have had different music and it was as I cheered friends in that I realized the angry songs don't make my playlist anymore. There's no more Eminem. They are still up beat and rhythmic but I don't have much anger left in me. I'm not sure, despite my damaged memory, I even completely recall what I was so angry at and why that needed to be absorbed through shock on concrete and pavement. There was a point late in the race when I knew that my competitive spirit it at least not what it used to be if not entirely gone when a woman in a stroller past me about 3/4 past the race and I was more proud of her than I was ashamed of me (but both were true for the record). 

But focusing too much on the past was never my style no matter how good or bad so I ran and finished and smiled. And I cheered people in and I loved that I am still part of this community and part of the run of it. 

I don't know what life holds next but that's always been true and the guessing game of just reading this blog shows you that it's about as reliable as Texas weather reports. I may be true to my word but there's other people and circumstances that I wouldn't have ever ever guessed. 

It's Election Day as I write this. In this representative democracy where we each should do our own part and really all do whether it's passive or active, make a choice in what comes next. But I'm going to keep focusing a lot on today and plenty on tomorrow and even on the nights that end harshly, I'm going to be thankful for each day, challenge myself and those I love to make tomorrow a little better in its own way. Perhaps, with that, there will be a dozen or more 5ths of November and days to make choices and the narrative to come will be not a perfect but a great experience. 

Immortal But Not For Long

Roughly 10 days ago, I was at the first LIVESTRONG Challenge weekend I had been at since 2018. I spoke briefly at the 25th anniversary gala, only a few days after I had remembered the adventures at the 20th one. The room had changed since then of course, CEO was different as were a good percentage of the attendees, but there were still a few friends in the room and in the display was my guidebook, a gift that keeps on giving. 

It was the first time I ever quoted Tolkien while speaking, that not all who wonder are lost, and that some of the tools and guidance they gave me helped me remember home in a time of disorientation. I’ve never grown entirely into being comfortable being a cancer guy, perhaps because I still have it and I never wanted to identify too closely with what I’ve always believed would kill me. But the people there were wonderful. Some of course only saw the idea of me since we only interacted briefly but there were friends there, who knew exactly how human I were and how helpful and hopeful they were to that humanity. It was not lost on me, however, that despite the smartest thing I ever said came from a LIVESTRONG video that ‘you have to work on the relationships you want to keep’ that I was the only person speaking at that event who came and left alone. Still, enough people commented on my speech and my fashionable outfit to where I left smiling.

The next day I had a 10k that I am doing as part of this distance challenge series of races that are all or nothing. I’m still struggling with returning to running at my previous capacity and believe you me that’s frustrating so on a flat course I was riding a see saw of will power and vitamin deficiencies and potential. The playlist had some good songs previously quoted on here before but there were also some new ones, perhaps remembering that change is life’s constant. Still it was lyrics from the song here that stuck out to me as I was around mile 4

Sometimes the only payoff for having any faith is when it’s tested again and again every day

I’m still comparing your past to my future; it might be your would but they’re my sutures. 

I encapsulated that the past and the future were both versions of me but at least in regards to running certainly liked the past. I tried to close after that song was over and still wanting to believe that I was the 30 something year old that was daring to dream about maybe getting to 40, I was the 42 year old straining a hamstring. But of, of course, I finished because I would crawl before taking a DNF.  Almost 12 years into this journey, I am not certain that I’ll ever find someone to call when I can’t crawl anymore. Still, I had a friend Tim pacing me for most of that 10k and by pacing, it meant slowing down with my hamstring. We’ve raced each other before and perhaps will again but it was good to have company. 

From there, I went to the LIVESTRONG Challenge. Before I knew it would conflict with this race, I had signed up for the 100 miler but I biked 20 miles for the 20th anniversary, so I went for 25 on the 25th. I had company for the first bit and varying company on the return. I was slow going out but hauling on the way home. I’ve been all around the world and as a matter of fact, who says you can’t go home. It was different people at the finish line, some who asked some of the tough questions since we last saw each other, some who shared it in the silence. There was enough warmth there where you realize that there’s room for a new welcomes. New firsts that will can still exist at this point in life.  

I spent that afternoon reflecting on the friends I’ve made along this cancer journey, many, most of them better people than me. I still and will always struggle with the survivors guilt where people who statistically were supposed to alive did not outlast me. Some were better athletes, better partners, better fathers. I also remembered the last one and reached out to some of the ones who hadn’t made it. It was all a tough but healthy perspective. 

Then the next morning as I headed to run with Chris, the primary run with, in the street I’ve turned off since I bought a house 16 years before, I got hit by a car on my drivers side. I stepped out of the car and checked on the other drive. She was shaken up but seemed and stated she was fine. Someone pointed out I was bleeding. It was from my head on the passenger side, something I still can’t make sense of since the impact was on the drivers side. 

Three minutes or so after getting out of the car I was calling the friend I was on my way to run for telling him I wasn’t going to make it due to my car getting totaled. He immediately said he was on his way over. I  made a list of phone calls about missing work, to share that I was okay without someone even knowing I was in an accident, to make sure Kiana’s mom could pick her up from school. I realized quickly this wasn’t normal; I was holding a blood soaked towel while taking care of business. People have suggested this was the adrenaline but it’s what I did after seizures. It’s what I did after brain surgeries. Somewhere I’m not wired right. I wasn’t even going to go to the doctor but Chris insisted where I ended up with 20 stitches with my favorite joke being that I sure go to a lot of effort to get matching scars. 

Still, a friend who happened to have an appointment in the building took me to another friend who lent me a car for a week. I made my 11 am meeting, worked into the evening and had enough time to make a dealership to realize this is not a good time to be looking for cars used or new. For all that I’ve done wrong in my life, I must have done something right to get good friends. I’ve long stated that I have great friends but the great punchline comeback was someone who stated “Of course all your friends are good people; only really good people could put up with you.”

Still, Chris who had come immediately upon finding out and took the pictures said to me “3 feet further and you’d likely not be here.” It takes a cursory look at the photos to realize he was right. I grew up in a rough neighborhood, I have cancer and outlasted the prognosis for most people, I’ve had seizures in various places and now I’ve been through a serious car accident. I was at a run yesterday where as I took a picture of the group they said “get closer to each other, don’t make Iram go into the street; he’s cheated death enough times.” I don’t know if Leons, since they’re from the cat family, technically get 9 lives and with my luck I only get 8 probably but probably wise not to push the limits too many times. Still, strained hamstrings, vertigo, vitamin deficiencies and issues with my liver, I still insist that I may be more afraid of aging than dying. 

But of course, I was running 3 days later, I have a 12th cancerversary party this Saturday (like fine wine baby, like fine wine; which one are you sending if you’re reading this) and I’m running a 10 mile race on Sunday and I still believe I can learn to hope and love and live better. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks but I’m a Leon. 

So even today while I got a several thousand surprise medical bill for some of the oncological stuff I did earlier this year, I feel like my life has been a ‘day of the dead’ scavenger hunt, I remember that in Encanto and some of my culture the way those who have passed ‘stay alive’ is by being remembered. That’s charming in it’s on way but I am also trying to remember those who are alive now that I do so too. 

My life, love, my drive they came from pain. So even as life continues and continues to be strange, I’m a believer.