rob balucas

Catalyst. Creative. Triathlete. Speaker. Cigar Aficionado. Amateur Behavioral Psychologist. Fresh Spring Roll Addict. Paraplegic at the moment.

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coffee love | year 7 update

Seven years ago today was the day I suffered a paralyzing spinal cord injury.

As you know, I had started a streak of celebrating with food .. that has not held up.

Year 1 was chicken fried steak and eggs, 
year 2 was a fancy milkshake, 
year 3 was fresh spring rolls,
year 4, 5, 6 .. I’m sure I did something, but I didn’t write about it and subsequently forgot.

This year I have nothing planned on this day, but I did smoke tri-tip with my cousins last weekend and that’s going to count.

Today is a big day of reflection for me. I’ve been reading my annual anniversary updates and looking back through pictures of all my exploits. 

For some reason this picture from the day before my injury sticks in my head: 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rob Balucas (@robbalucas)

It represents my normal routine back then, working from a favorite coffee shop in the city. It also represents finding joy in everyday things like this coffee cup.

I believe that taking a minute – before getting on with work – to recognize and relish in such a small moment is a key component to the attitude and underlying character that allowed me to quickly get back to living after paralysis.

It’s a choice to take a minute. A choice we all are capable of making.
(And this is the whole thesis to this writing and most writing I do.)

Which brings us to today.

We’re 7 years into this wheelchair journey. 
I’m 45 years into life as of last week.
We’re 31 days from the IRONMAN World Championships in Kona.

The biggest thing that has been coming up in the last year is what I call ‘Cynicism Creep’.

Reading my past entries, there’s a LOT of positive. A lot of excitement and a lot of high vibration. But last year I missed writing an annual update. I wrote about the circumstances in last week’s blog. 

Add to that the pandemic, the state of conflict both in our country and around the world, and – this particular week – the HEAT wave here in the west.  The tone of our world gives plenty of reason to get cynical.

So where does that leave us? 

Here’s where it leaves me: Focus on what we can control. Create beauty, create smiles where we can.

What if we all were more attentive to our Cynicism Creep? Could we change the course of things big and small in our world? I think so.

Some experts also think so:

Kona, this blog, and pictures of my coffee cup are my efforts.

What are yours?


So about the wine

I tried to NOT ask for support this year. But I’ve found most days are battle to decide which gets more attention: training/rest/recovery or work. Working for myself, I only get paid for the time I work. Travel, physical therapy, tires, tubes, little incidental things – they have been adding up.

So one last time for my personal journey.

Any contribution is welcome, if you’re willing and able! It means a ton financially – and I kid you not – emotionally it means just as much, if not more.  Links are below.

And if you’re down with great wine, at $200 we’ll ship you a bottle of Housley’s Century Oak Winery 2017 Cabernet Sauvignon with a custom #teambalucas label (shown above).

Details below. Links here:

works too (better actually) »

contribute now »

Use this link to send me your mailing address – click here.


progress report 88%

$5,000 of $5,000


Details:

Shipping: If you are in Southern California and we’ll most likely see each other soon, you can subtract $20 in shipping costs if you choose. 

Timing: we may still wait until favorable wine shipping weather (read: not so hot). But expect it before Halloween.

If you don’t want wine or want to contribute less: that’s perfectly fine too. Just send me a message/email/text if you don’t want the wine.

How the wine came to be: read about my connection to the Housley Family.

September 5, 2022

9/5/2020 update | Year 5

Today is the 5-year mark since my injury.

Yeah. Time flies, right?

There is so much to share. So much has happened in the last year alone…

But what’s pressing on my mind is a realization I had while watching the documentary Crip Camp on Netflix:

Netflix describes it as “On the heels of Woodstock, a group of teen campers are inspired to join the fight for disability civil rights. This spirited look at grassroots activism is executive produced by President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama. … A groundbreaking summer camp galvanizes a group of teens with disabilities to help build a movement, forging a new path toward greater equality.”
It basically tells the story of the group of teens with disabilities who fought for eventually what became the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).

I really encourage you to watch it, I won’t give more of the story away.

But what I really got from it is that I stand on the shoulders of giants.

Giants with every kind of disability.

Giants with wheelchairs.
Giants with crutches.
Giants with congenital birth defects.
Giants who got hit by buses (watch the documentary).
And other all other kinds of disabled GIANTS.

Now when I walk my dog and cross a street at the curb cutout, I think of this group who occupied a Federal office building in San Francisco for 26 days with all the health issues and risks that I have.

When I park in a handicap parking spot and have the ability to open my door wide and pull out my wheelchair, I think about how these warriors lived life with none of these conveniences.

Many fellow wheelchair users consider me a baby wheelie even at this 5-year mark. I used to refute that moniker.

But after watching this documentary, I realize: yes I am a baby in this new world for me. These people who fought for my ability to access the everyday world with ease are my defacto elders.

—

There’s a part in the documentary where some guy in the Nixon administration says that curb cutouts and dedicated parking spots, amongst other things, were a difficult expense for the budget when compared to the percentage of people who would benefit.

I remember one of my first managers at my first job out of college (many, many years ago) said in an off-hand comment during a happy hour the same sentiment. I didn’t think too much of it back then, but it stuck with me because I think I knew it wasn’t right.


“Prejudice can’t survive proximity…”

// Stephen Beresford

What became the ADA isn’t perfect. Enforcement and compliance aren’t perfect. People don’t comply and block/park in/use fake issues in handicap parking all the time.

But holy shit would my life be different if these people’s point of view won out. It would be incredibly harder and more frustrating to operate in this world.

I physically shudder at the thought.

I didn’t have an appreciation for wheelchair living before now because I didn’t have any proximity.

Now that I’m a part of this world and the proximity is my everyday life, I obviously see it from a different angle.

…and I’m not talking about the 4’2” perspective I now have, sitting in a wheelchair.

There is a quote I love by Stephen Beresford, “Prejudice can’t survive proximity, it melts away when you meet and speak to those you fear”.

It’s so relevant in today’s world.

It’s so easy to write off those who are different, especially if we’re not exposed to those people.

But when suddenly a family member comes out of the closet; or someone close becomes disabled … that’s when people’s hearts change and their eyes open. That is when the preconceived notions and priorities change.

It’s disappointing we humans operate that way at times.

But not all humans. And not all the time.

I’ve been fortunate to meet MANY people who have open eyes and open hearts. I make sure to surround myself with them.

It’s a matter of choice, I believe. It’s a matter of whether you’re able to be open or not.

And yes, proximity.

Are you looking down only at your own two feet? Or looking out to see the other people around you?

When you look out, do you do so with judgment – possibly driven by fear? Or could you look out with curiosity – maybe seeking to understand?

Sure it takes a little more energy. But the return is a little bit of connection.

And I’ve never heard of genuine connection as a detriment to one’s life and well-being.

Especially right now.


In honor of year 5, I set a goal to raise funding for Angel City Sports.

A lot of the media I’ve gotten recently is on their behalf, and it’s because they really make sports accessible. When quarantine came, they got creative and went virtual with their annual Angel City Games. And now they’re working on being able to survive.

Here’s the deal. I know if everyone who sees this donates $25, we would triple this goal.

Since I’ve moved to LA, I’ve found an awesome local community of challenged athletes and supporters in Angel City Sports (ACS). In these quarantine times, all non-profits are facing deficits and ACS is not different.

I hope to contribute to the ACS community as they rise LA youth and adults into the Paralympic Games for years to come.

If you have it, drop it in the bucket!

More Information and Contribute Here »

September 5, 2020

you don’t really care | year 4 update

You don’t really care.

You don’t.

You really don’t care about my races and how I do.

I really care.

See, you don’t really care about what place I finish in; or if I win or not.

But I do. I had really high expectations about a triathlon come back and how I’d surprise people.

But no one really seems to care about how I finish or if I win.

And that’s why I love my tribe.

Last year I had a hidden agenda that I wanted to qualify for either the Kona IRONMAN World Championships or the IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships (70.3 is the half IRONMAN distance).

It was an incredibly silly premise. Before the injury, I was a middle-of-the-pack age grouper who took up triathlon in his 30’s.

Last year I was a 40-year-old paraplegic, with barely 6-months of legit training.

Needless to say, one of my biggest lessons in this process has been patience.

This can also be said for the entire journey of life in a wheelchair.

fast forward to today

Today we are … 21 … days from the IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships in Nice, France. We are also 18 days from the 4th Anniversary of my crash.

To recap, 😉
Year 1 we celebrated with a handcycle ride and a massive Chicken Fried Steak.

Year 2 was celebrated with an amazing milkshake.

Year 3 I nommed on Vietnamese Fresh Spring Rolls, which are one of my top 2 foods (???? tacos fill out the list).

This year, on the Year 4 anniversary we’ll have just landed in France in preparation for the IRONMAN race. So most likely a crepe or something more Mediterranean French Riviera will definitely be in the works. If you have any suggestions, let me know.

I’m getting a little ahead of myself with writing something on the anniversary of my September 5th crash this year. However, the retrospect begins in the month of August. Primarily because I ride the Marin Century bike ride every year in early August which includes the hill I crashed on.

People ask me what it feels like riding that hill and, like all previous years, I tell them I’ve got no energy on it.

marin century ride recap

When I was first in the hospital at Marin General, I was put in an ICU room with a great view of the hill I crashed on. For the better part of a week, I watched the sunrise and sunset on that hill with no ability to sit up, turn away, or move without assistance. I had a lot of time being confronted with that hill and what it would mean to me.

I realized I don’t mean anything to that hill. It’s been here a lot longer than me; and will be here a lot longer than I will be. So I decided that hill doesn’t mean anything to me.

Ironically, I love to ride it. Descending through the redwoods and into Nicasio is beautiful. It is some of the most beautiful riding in NorCal. It’s fast and in my handcycle, I pass everybody which is a rarity for me.

It also included some riding/climbing I thought I’d never see again, including Marshall Wall and Point Reyes

Big, big shout out to the Challenged Athlete Foundation NorCal Cycling Club and Staci for answering the call to ride with me this year! I couldn’t have ridden by myself and they answered the call on short notice after my buddy Peter came down with a case of a sick newborn. (The baby is all better, just FYI).

I rode the metric century (100 km = 62 miles) that also included 3,300 ft of climb. It’s usually the most climbing I do every year.


2019_Marin_Century_03
2019_Marin_Century_05
2019_Marin_Century_01
2019_Marin_Century_02
2019_Marin_Century_04

This year, it was a litmus test for how I’ll do in this coming IRONMAN 70.3 in France. After swimming 1.2 miles, I’ll have 56 miles of handcycle with 4,400 ft of climb, then a 13.1-mile push run.

Let’s see that again .. 4,400 ft of climb.

Yeah.

Buffered by a swim before and a push run after.

So I train:

There’s nothing glamorous about the pain cave, the 100ºF summer heat of master swims, nor my orange headband.

But hey, you don’t care. (And that’s why I love my tribe).

As long as we’re doing it, that’s what you care about.

#teambalucas does france: fundraise update

We are oh-so-close to completing this crowdfund. 82% there!

The plane tickets are purchased, the hotel booked, the transportation booked, handcycle-fixes and upgrades installed.

Like for most of us, making this ask is really uncomfortable to do. But I’ll be damned if every time this tribe says ‘Don’t be silly’ and willingly gives.

And I can’t tell you how much it helps me combat those inner ‘why not’ voices.

So if you’ve been meaning to, but just got busy, here’s your reminder.

Thank you for caring, even though you don’t 😉

 
contribute now »
works too »
 

One last note: post images to the teambalucas 2019 page about the support. Comments about the race below. Thanks!

comments from contributors:

“Because you say, work hard and do. . . . . period”

“Thanks for changing my life by getting me into Tri and being a constant inspiration.”

“Stop being a lazy ass.”

“GO Robby, you inspire me! The Alluv Place is proud to support you in your dreams.”

“So proud of you Rob. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to be a part of your incredible journey.”

“So proud of you, Rob! Admire you so much.”

“Congratulations Rob! I will be in Nice racing too and will keep an eye out on Sunday to cheer you on, reach out of you need anything while there. Congratulations also on Kona, and also passing it up until you are ready.”

“You are an inspiration to all athletes out training for something!”

“Go Rob! You inspire many!”

 
contribute now »
works too »
 

One last note: post images to the teambalucas 2019 page about the support. Comments about the race below. Thanks!

August 18, 2019

9/5/2018 update | Year 3

Man, he really wants an arm workout.

When I’m riding on my handcycle on a given day and not competing, I sometimes wonder what people think I’m doing. I get all kinds of facial expressions. I have boiled it down to a few choice guesses as to what people might be thinking.

My favorite is this: the confused stare.

I think the confused stare is thinking, ‘Man, he really wants an arm workout.’

‘There’s a million ways to work out your arms. Maybe he just really wants a tan too.’

And then today of all days, it happened.

While I was taking a break on my ride, this older gentleman started up a conversation and asked if I do this to work out my arms.

I wanted to say yes and go with it. You know I would have done that with a completely straight face. But I didn’t. I explained that I’m paralyzed from the waist down, etc, etc.

My gopro just happened to capture it all:

3 Years Today

Today is the 3-year anniversary of my injury. No milkshake commemoration like year 2. No chicken fried steak commemoration like year 1. I’ve been off the wagon in both diet and workout since the last IRONMAN 70.3 flame out, so I’ve exhausted my appetite for gluttony.

I am about to embark on back to back to back weekend riding/racing for the rest of September including the Giants Race, Nautica Malibu Triathlon, and BORP Revolution Ride. So I’ve got a lot to focus on and that’s fine.

Identity

Last month I rode the hill I crashed on, as I plan to do every year, during the Marin Century ride and that sparked off a lot of introspect as to what was it that drove me to rebound so quickly back into my life and not spiral into the depths of despair like many do and many others expected me to do.

I believe it’s the fluidity of my perception of who I am. My identity.

I have actually spent a lot of my life thinking about my identity and taking a proactive, ownership role in who I believe I am. I spoke about it, in part, a year ago at an event for Filipino-American college students.

I say ‘in part’ because my mixed ethnicity is only one dimension of who I am. But it kicked off the awareness for me at a young age because I looked far more Filipino in grade school and was raised primarily by a single, white Mom. You can watch the speech I gave for more about that.

But that led to a lot of awareness and understanding of how others perceive me. Somewhere around the end of high school and the beginning of college, I realized I could shape that perception and began to experiment.

And that experimentation continued deep into my twenties.

I tried on corporate life, I tried on entrepreneurship, I tried on real estate investing, I tried on teaching, I tried on speaking, I tried on living in the big city, I tried on living in the big city on the East Coast, I tried on triathlon, I tried on open water swimming, I tried on dating women an earlier version of me would have shamed me for, I tried on dog ownership – the list goes on and on.

What I learned was that none of those things are my identity.

My identity is something far more core.

It’s composed of values and priorities.

It’s refined and discovered by me trying on the list of stuff above.

And Then, The Accident

And then, the shit hit the fan. I broke my back and added titanium rods and screws, wheelchair, rehab, transfers, constant neuropathic pain, catheters, bowel programs, erectile dysfunction, standing frames, hand controls for driving, being 4 feet tall and looking up at the world, amongst many other spinal cord injury-related things to the list I’ve tried on.

When my accident first happened, I was very quick to reconcile that this injury and the growing list of aforementioned atrocities do not change who I am.

… if I don’t let them.

I believe I have a choice. I get to decide who shows up in the ICU, in the rehab hospital, in the wheelchair, and in my life.

I wrote about my intentionally-crafted and battle-tested values and priorities awhile ago in another blog and you can read that at this link.

My point is that I have come to believe I get to decide what my identity is.

In many cases, people who suffer spinal cord injuries have a really hard time coping with their new circumstances. I understand why and I believe that’s perfectly okay to have happen.

I’ve seen that for many of those people, it’s a crisis of identity. They believe their identity is in the motorcycle they just crashed, in the arborist job that they had when they fell from that tree, in the club dancer they were before they were hit by a drunk driver, in the military uniform they wore before that IED went off.

The truth is, their identity is in their values. The value of riding free, wind in the hair; of working hard and making things beautiful and safe; in having a good time; in the being the warrior who is brave and willing to protect others.

And the application of that identity can be applied to anything.

It’s a matter of being willing to be adaptable and roll with the punches.

Spinal cord injury is a masterclass in being adaptable.

Yo Soy Un Lider

My accountability partner, Lili, and I have been in some form of holding each other to account since 2005. One mantra that’s come out of our partnership is this Spanish: ‘Yo soy un lider.’

I am a leader.

One interpretation of this mantra is this:

Based on how I lead my life, others will follow.

If all I ‘lead’ with is complaining about how hard it is to live in a wheelchair and lament all the atrocities I mentioned before (and side note to acknowledge: it IS difficult and real and painful) then people will follow and say, ‘I couldn’t imagine. It must be so hard. Poor baby.’

And so goes my life.

But if I lead with a smile – the same smile from before my accident. If I lead with the same values of challenge, endurance, and growth that I learned from triathlon and apply that to rehab, living with a disability, and now paratriathlon; then people have said, ‘Wow that’s amazing! Go get it. How can I support you?’

And so goes my life.

¿Eres un líder? // Are you a leader?

#youcreateyourlife

—

PS – I had to have something to eat to commemorate after I started writing about it. I ordered in Vietnamese Fresh Spring Rolls this year because I’m addicted…and they were nommed five paragraphs ago.


An Ask: support my ride for the Bay Area Outreach and Recreation Program (BORP)

One of the first things I was anxious to do, after getting out of rehab, was get back out on the road and cycling. I was pointed to BORP in Berkeley where I could ride their handcycles while mine was on order and being built. Their crew there and other riders were an immediate support group for the goal I had to do a triathlon before the one-year anniversary of my accident.

They allowed me to borrow a handcycle for 4-hour indoor ride and for my first triathlon in Oakland.

They enabled my goals and I could not have done it without their support. I’ve met countless others in the Bay Area who also benefit from there opportunities to participate in a variety of sports.

Will you support BORP? (imagine my doe eyes) I’m riding my handcycle with a team during their annual Revolution Ride on Sept 22. Every bit helps kids and adults have the opportunities I’ve had after a catastrophic life event.

Even better: come ride with us. If you’re a cyclist then join the team. I’d love to have as many people there as possible riding with me.

Here’s the link, do $25. Or $50. Every part gets me to my goal and gets people in my circumstances back into life.

BORP is a 501c3 non-profit, so contributions are tax-dedutible.

Support BORP »

September 5, 2018

9/5/2017 update | 2-year anniversary

It has been an incredibly busy summer to say the least.

Besides the in’s and out’s of taking care of myself and work and training for triathlons and doing triathlons and a birthday, I’ve had a few things going on and really didn’t have a plan to pause for this day until last night.

And I decided on a milkshake.

When I was first in the hospital at Marin General, I was asked what could people bring me?

I said, ‘A milkshake.’

And over the course of the next week I got 20+ milkshakes.

How did I know I was loved? Milkshakes. At one point I had to make a declaration to my friends and family: okay, no more milkshakes.

I won’t dive into the details of how I was on copious amounts of drugs including oxycotin and didn’t poop for the first two weeks I was in the hospital and the rush of dairy and sugar probably didn’t help. I won’t dive into details .. and maybe I just did. 💩

When I was going into spinal fusion surgery for what would be 10 hours, I had the whole medical team around me and they asked, ‘Any questions?’ I only had one: ‘How soon can I eat after?’ The answer was, ‘Immediately, but you probably won’t want to after being prone face down for so long.’ I thought, ‘You clearly don’t know me.’

When I woke up, I was hungry. I don’t remember how soon after I had a shake, but I’m pretty sure Amy Shaw & Neil Fraiser brought it to me and it was the BEST milkshake in history.

9/5/2017 Update

When I was in surgery and recovery, my friends wrote updates on my progress. As soon as I was able, I started writing regular updates myself. They’ve really fallen off since accomplishing the triathlon goal, and even prior they were more about triathlon training.

I know that some of you whom I communicate with less frequently are a little unclear on where I ‘stand’ physically at this point. So here’s a basic update:

I’ve regained feeling below where I was originally as a T8 complete – that’s the official classification meaning that I lose function and feeling below the nipple line, with no feeling or control below that. If I were classified ‘incomplete’ there’d be some sort of function or feeling below that T8 vertebrae.

Leaving rehab in December 2015 I was a T10 complete, so I regained feeling and function down to about the bottom of my rib cage.

Today I don’t know if my official classification would change, but I have a good amount of feeling down to my belly button. I have control of most of my abdominal wall in the front, but lose sensation at the bottom of my rib cage in the back. This level (T11) is the first vertebra that has screws securing my injured vertebra (L1).

Initial X-Ray
Initial X-Ray
Spinal Fusion from Right Side
Spinal Fusion from Right Side
Spinal Fusion From the Back
Spinal Fusion From the Back

The videos of me in the Exso Bionics and ReWalk exoskeletons are exciting, though they’re not meant to train me to walk again anytime soon. I have zero control of my legs at present. Walking in the exoskeletons are great for keeping the legs/bones strong, increasing blood flow, and helping with bowel and bladder movements.

My flavor of spinal cord injury comes with an insane amount of neuropathic pain. Basically I have a band of pain that starts at my spinal fusion and wraps around to my belly. Below that point I have leg pain that feels like my legs fell asleep but times that by 100. It can be debilitating at times – especially getting up out of bed in the morning when I’ve been sedentary for so long.

The maddening thing about neuropathic pain is that it’s not real. By that I mean, my legs don’t really hurt. The spinal cord damage I sustained is sending false signals to my brain. So it’s like the transmitter is broken, not the actual body part.

I had been taking Neurontin and a small amount of the infamous Oxycodone for the pain. But as expected, over time my body got used to the amount I was taking and requires more to give me relief.

I have zero desire to take more of either of these drugs. One of the ideas I was told by my physical therapists is that in some cases you find a new tolerance and your capacity for pain becomes a new baseline. I’ve been playing with this idea ever since. Basically the pain level that I couldn’t handle in the beginning – and would probably cripple the average person – could be my new norm.

I’m proud to report I haven’t been taking Oxycodone for nearly 10 weeks now. I still take the Neurontin, occasionally testing less amounts.

Some days, I succeed and remain productive throughout the day. Other days, I’m done by 3 pm and usually have to lay flat for an extended nap.

I’ve tried a few months of acupuncture, different high CBD medicinal marijuana varieties, along with many other suggestions. I continue to test different remedies. I’ve focused on CBD, but haven’t found the right mix or form for my body yet. I need something that alleviates pain, but doesn’t put me to bed.

There’s a lot of insights and updates – both big and small that I am furiously writing. Especially riding the hill I crashed on not once, but twice in the last month. Stay tuned, I have a steady stream of posts coming out in the coming weeks and months. I would love to know what you’re curious about. Let me know.

BTW: have a pain remedy or CBD recommendation? Leave it in the comments below. Interested in what will come out…

#youcreateyourlife

September 5, 2017

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