rob balucas

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

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© Rob Balucas
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Times they are a changin’

change being thrust upon us is a funny thing.

It’s not so much the change being funny, but us being funny in how we react to change.

A spinal cord injury (SCI) brings this funny business into clear view in ways you wouldn’t have possibly dreamt. I was surprised by my attachments and the meaning I made up about why those things are important. It took some pretty funny catalysts for me to let go of these attachments and redefine the meaning I gave them.

In my journey, a great example of attachment and making up meaning is driving a car. I was given the basic information on how to get back on the road, driving as a paraplegic, while in rehab:

  1. Get instruction and sign-off from an accredited adaptive driving instructor
  2. a certified installer will install hand controls in your car.

The process is pretty straight forward.

but what I had made up in my mind was not so simple.

In my mind, if I gave in to driving with hand controls, then I was giving up on my focus and belief that I would walk again. And as any new SCI will tell you, the desire to walk again is very potent stuff.

But as human beings, we don’t always attach our desires and drive to the most logical and helpful things.

Sometimes, we need help unpacking our attachments – whether it be through peer counseling, professional counseling, or just sheer necessity of our circumstances.

This is a story of sheer necessity:

When I was released from rehab I moved in with my parents.

It was a shock for me, a very independent thirty-something-year-old, and it was a shock for them, as very content empty-nesters.

It didn’t take long for this living situation to break me of this meaning I had attached to driving. After six weeks of confinement to my parent’s house, I needed to get out and about at-will and ASAP.

A mentor of mine likes to say, ‘Guess what? You can walk, chew gum, and cry all at the same time.’

I decided I could still retain my desire, focus, and belief I’ll walk again; AND at the same time learn to drive with hand controls.

Once I made that simple but not-so-simple shift in mindset, I didn’t wait for the instruction, certification, and hand-control installation process. I bought some bolt-on controls on Amazon, got in a car with a friend, and drove to Starbucks. I didn’t even let not having my wallet stand in my way.

I have been on the road ever since. I’ve driven to San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Tucson multiple times by myself with no trepidation.

Eventually, I got the certification and had permanent, secure hand controls installed in my car.

fast forward to today and I have another attachment hiding in plain sight.

My social media profile picture.

Every few months, Facebook has been not so subtly reminding me that my profile might be old and not representative of me today.


Oh Facebook, how did you know?

You see, Mr. Zuckerberg et al., I’ve been holding on to that 5-year-old picture for very personal, measured, vain, irrational, and intentional reasons.

This picture was taken by a friend as I crossed the finish line at the 2015 Wildflower Triathlon. I was proud of that picture because of the accomplishment, but also because it was looking buff. I was getting into the best shape of my life and I was getting close to 40.

I decided that I was going to keep that picture as my social media profile as my last bit of resistance to the physical specimen that I am now, confined to a wheelchair.

I’ll give in to hand controls and I’ll give in to handcycling and racing wheelchairs. But no, Universe, I’m holding onto this profile picture as my last daily reminder as to what was and what I want my life to look like again.

But you know what, I’m ready to admit I’m being silly.

I’m just ready. I’ve actually been ready for awhile now. Ready to change my attachments and meaning I give to this wildly insignificant thing.

Times they are a changin’.

It might be a good time to assess your attachments and reassess the meaning given to them. What is holding you back in silly or maybe not-so-silly and significant ways?

#youcreateyourlife

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.


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 😉

 
 

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!”

 
 

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

2019 IRONMAN 70.3 Lubbock Race Recap

I rarely get what I want…
… when I want it.

I went back and read last year’s recap about this race and I was livid at the end of that race. By ‘end’ I mean when I threw in the towel after the 1.2-mile swim and 56-mile bike. I didn’t even start the 13.1-mile run (push). A friend of mine told me she was really concerned about me mentally the days following, with good cause. It’s tough to put in so much work and sacrifice and not finish the race.

The week leading up to this year’s race, I heard Tony Robbins say on his podcast, ‘Most people overestimate what they can do in a year and they underestimate what they can do in two or three decades.’

And this is 100% my pattern in goal-setting. I rarely get what I want when I want it.

I get it AFTER I want it.

Could be ‘right after’. Could be ‘not soon after’. Could be ‘a long while after’.

If I’d just extend my timeline in goalsetting by 200% I’d probably be a constant, consistent achiever. It’s a testament to me about the zen of persistence. Also, it’s a lesson in being realistic.

Why do I bring it up in this post-race recap?

Because I officially finished my first IRONMAN 70.3. I qualified for the IRONMAN World Championships in Kona, Hawaii.

I GOT my goals for 2018 this past weekend in June of 2019.

I qualified for Kona. And I’m not going.

I started coaching this year with Carlos Moleda (5-time IRONMAN WC Kona Champion) and Dr. Ralf Lindschulten at Nexus Endurance. We started with a very specific and measured analysis of my endurance and fitness.

Using that baseline, we set goals. Better said, I set my goals and they set my timeline.

I flirted with the Olympic path these past 10 months and I’ll talk more about that in another post.

But I decided to put IRONMAN 70.3 Lubbock (formerly Buffalo Springs Lake) on the race schedule for two reasons. (1) it’s a well-supported handcycle-approved IRONMAN and (2) it will give me experience on the course I need to complete to qualify for Kona – which is the ultimate goal.
…and maybe (3) redemption.

‘And if Kona is the ultimate goal, then the timeline is 2020.’, said coach.

I COULD go if I qualify, but I would most likely just have a miserable experience because my swim needs more work. That’s not the type of experience I want to spend time, money, and effort to create.

It was really tough to say, ‘no’ in the moment … but I did.

That opened the door for us to go to the IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships! (this is the ‘half’ IRONMAN distance = 70.3, as opposed to the full distance in Kona = 140.6)

The Race

As for the actual race, everything was different this year.

The temperature was 95°F on the day, versus 103°F last year.
The morning had no wind, versus last year with 20+ mph sustained wind.
There was 2 of us in the handcycle division this year, versus 5 last year.

My buddy John is an amazing sherpa, but my girlfriend Erika is an exceptionally detail-oriented person, not to mention we have more room in the hotel with only one bed. For those of you who haven’t met her, she competed on the UCLA Triathlon Team and so having this sport and general fitness in common is an incredible connection for us. Having her there at every transition was special … not to mention she carried my gear.

Most everything went to plan. Except…

… mile 9 of the bike when my hand pedal came off. All I could think was, “I’m not stopping. I’m not having another DNF.”

So I slammed it back on and made it work so I could keep going. Every now and then it would flick off on a hill or abrupt gear change. I would slam it back on and keep going.

And I did it. I completed all 56 miles of the bike. 47 miles with a loose hand pedal.

Major kudos to Marti and Mike Greer, who put have put on this race for 30 years. They have always been conscious of making sure their race is friendly (note: not easier, just accessible) for handcycle division athletes. Though there was ‘new course’ learnings, they do great by us year after year.

2019 IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships

I secured my spot in the 70.3 World Championships in Nice, France on September 6 & 7.

Continued training ensues.
And once again, I need support.

As you can imagine, the cost is going through the roof of what I can afford alone. I have a new list of needs to make a showing in Nice. There’s continued coaching, equipment maintenance/upgrades (new hand pedal), travel, entry fees, and so on.

I’ve decided to create a crowdfund through this site, using PayPal and Venmo, instead of going through the crowdfunding websites that charge in excess of 8% of the funds raised. After all, website design is what I do for a living.

I’ll be posting updates, tracker, comments, and other info to this page: robbalucas.com/teambalucas2019

How else do I say, ‘I can’t do it without you?’ I hate this process. But it works. And every time this tribe says, ‘It’s okay. We want to support you.’ So here I am again. Can we do this?

 
 

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

Team Chubby Donut Rides the Marin Century

In 2015, before my crash, I was in a training program towards my first Half IRONMAN and we quickly bonded as a group.

We met up Tuesdays and Thursdays at dawn to ride out of San Francisco, across the Golden Gate Bridge, up Hawk Hill, down the backside to the YMCA, out to Rodeo Beach, and then back.

If you’re a cyclist in San Francisco, you know this ride really well. And you post pictures of the sunrise. And you get really grateful to live in such a cool place.

But if you’re us .. you take it to the next level. You give yourselves a name, you make it a club, make it semi-exclusive (meaning when people would ask we say yes), and then start talking about making cycling kits for no real reason except you really love how funny it is.

There is another group in our neighborhood of cyclists who would pass most of us on those morning climbs. They are called Fat Cake. We decided to call our team …

Chubby Donut.

While I was in rehab we designed a logo and cycling kit. It was purple, pink, accented in sprinkles, and said ‘Fresh and Tasty’ across the butt.

Marin Century | Metric Century Distance

The Marin Century Ride goes up and over and back down the hill I crashed on two years ago. With the support of Team Chubby Donut, I ride in the Marin Century and we ride together down Lucas Valley Road from Big Rock to commemorate the occasion.

The Marin Century happens every year about a month before the anniversary of my crash and a couple of weeks before my birthday. So it’s a very introspect time.

Team Chubby Donut wanted to do the 60-mile metric century route of the ride this year. Last year Peter and I did the easy 25 mile route.

3,500 feet of climbing

The distance was fine. I’ve done 60 miles in my handcycle before.

But what intimidated me was the climbing. 3,600 ft of climb, which is 1,000 more than I’ve ever climbed before. But I told the team .. if you’re willing to rock the hills at 3.3 mph with me, then I’m down.

And rock 3.3 mph we did. Until the last hill, Red Hill Rd in Petaluma. Different things started to strain, the road got narrow and curvy, the heat of the day pounded on my chest and face, and I took a bunch of breaks. That’s where I hit about 3,000 ft of climbing and thought this could be where we have a support vehicle pick me up.

But I hadn’t descended my hill on Lucas Valley Road.

So I got really present. Take breaks if needed. Take fuel. Go a little more and a little more. Keep cranking. Don’t tell me you think we’re near the top, Peter.

And what comes after a climb? A descent. I got to take a rest while traveling upwards of 35mph with my butt 6 inches off the ground. In the video, it’s towards the end where you see Paul catching up with me on a long road.

After that was only one more climb that mattered. The climb to Big Rock and then down the other side where I crashed. Ironically that climb, while not nearly as difficult, was made easier by a deep, involved conversation with Sarah and Peter.

We paused for a break at the top and to turn on all our GoPros. And then we went down the hill:

Nothing has power except that which you give it

A mentor once said to me, ‘Nothing has power except that which you give it.’

I recently met someone who doesn’t ride places they crashed. They give power to those places.

I decided that that hill is just a hill. There’s nothing inherently evil about it. The hill didn’t do anything to me, it was just there. It was there long before me and will be there long after me. So decided not to give any power to this hill.

The guide for this ride says about this descent: “This hill dislikes males age 25–39 (yes, you guys crash here).” I have a secret to not crash like I did: go slow.

So that’s it. We went slowly down the curves at the top. After that was a few miles of 25mph straight descent – and that’s the fun part.

Relive ‘2018 Marin Metric Century’

People ask me what I feel riding down that hill.

Honestly, I don’t feel much. I think about people who think it’s amazing that I’ll ride this hill again. I wish I could show them how powerful this idea – this tool – can be. This hill as no power except that which I give it. And so I decide to give it none. And life goes on.

Now, what else do I give undo power to?

What do you give power to?

—

An Ask: support my ride for the Challenged Athletes Foundation

Not two or three weeks after my crash, I got a text from someone at CAF who’s since become a great mentor and friend.

Since then CAF has supported me by sending me to a paratriathlon camp; awarded me grants for coaching and travel to IRONMANs; gotten me entry into the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon twice, the Oceanside 70.3 IRONMAN, the CAF B2B NorCal Ride, the Xmas Coma, and numerous others.

Needless to say, this Foundation enabled my goals in sport which I realize more and more every day how much that meant for my recovery overall from this spinal cord injury and paraplegia.

Will you support CAF? (imagine my doe eyes) I’m riding my handcycle with a team during CAF’s San Diego Triathlon Challenge in October. 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 back into life.

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

Support CAF »

IRONMAN 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake Race Recap

There’s a recent pop-rap song with the line, “I live my life like my blood type: B positive” and I cringe at how dumb that sounds. And I say that as someone who is super positive most of the time.

But what I’ve been feeling isn’t positive and at the same time, I don’t want to rant like a victim to you here. Today I finally broke through my anger with a powerful thought (at least for me in this moment) that I’ll share at the end.

You have Reasons or Results

I wanted to crush my goals this year. I wanted to crush in my races. I wanted to surprise everyone. Instead, I’ve racked up 2 IRONMAN 70.3 DNFs (Did Not Finish) and a flat tire finish at the LA Marathon.

The first DNF at Oceanside, as it turns out, was because the bike shop set up my chain through my rear derailleur the wrong way and it cost me power – which becomes a big deal over 56 miles and 4 hours and 2,800 ft of climbing. Basically, the chain was rubbing across a piece of metal the whole time. I missed the bike cut-off time by 12 minutes. Had I not had the problem with my chain I would have made the cut-off easily.

At the LA Marathon, I popped my front tire while braking on a steep downhill in the first 2 miles of the race. I locked up the brake and the tire skidded across the pavement, burnt a hole in the rubber and it popped. It was so early in the race, and I had every wave of the Marathon coming soon behind me I just figured to keep going as far as I could. I made it 24 more miles to the finish, but much slower than I could have without a flat.

After so much mechanical issues early in my season, I was really ready to have a clean race at Buffalo Springs Lake.

IRONMAN 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake

The IRONMAN 70.3 Buffalo Springs Lake in Lubbock, Texas is the Handcycle Division qualifier to go to the 70.3 World Championships and/or full 140.6 IRONMAN World Championships in Kona. While it was a long shot, it was possible with only 5 Handcycle racers racing. My ultimate goal was to experience this course, have a solid swim, and stretch-goal to qualify for 70.3 World Championships.

It was the first time I’d be travelling by plane in a wheelchair … and with a very big handcycle and racing wheelchair and medical supplies in tow. I’m now a life-size action figure with a lot of accessories. I will save the air travel story for later. The great thing is, things went off without a hitch and the airport personnel were awesome at every turn.

The Race

The weather forecast was comical going in. It was low 90’s the days leading up to and after the race. But race day was forecast at 103°F.

When we left the hotel at 4 am it was REALLY windy. Turned out the day had 27 mph sustained wind with gusts up to 48 mph. Already things looked incredibly rough.

The Swim

The water temperature was 74.8°F which is warm. Add to that some good chop and current because of the wind and you have really tough conditions. But used to train in the San Francisco Bay on the regular so I can handle this … right?

2nd from the left is me
 

Turns out no. I paused about a quarter of the way thru the 1.2 mile swim to regain my heart rate and breathing and neither would cooperate. I kept playing a game with myself to get 30 good strokes in and I can have a quick pause. Nothing worked to calm my body. My left arm started cramping, I was really hot, and I just had to keep telling myself to get ‘home’ to transition and end this nightmare.

The Bike

I got back to shore where I had to navigate bad pavement in my wheelchair back to my transition area – by rule, I have to push myself. After a decent transition amidst already being frustrated and exhausted, I was off on my favorite and strongest leg = the bike.

releasing the brakes and shaking it out in transition
 

And then .. right out of transition was a hill ala Wildflower Tri but maybe a third of the distance. In a handcycle, it’s the same challenge as Wildflower for a regular cyclist. That was followed up by 5 more miles of really rough pebble pavement. Rural Texas uses this pebble pavement that even in our minivan scoping the course we could tell it was a rough road for much of the course.

The aforementioned wind was blowing North by Northwest so for the first 10 miles of the primarily North/South course I didn’t notice the wind because it was at my back. But then the course turned South into the wind and my average speed went from 18mph to 10mph. It was like staring down a flat road but cranking like you’re on a climb, which it was mentally frustrating. Especially as the day went on and it got hotter and hotter.

The last 10 miles were again just a mental game of letting go of what I expected to do and just doing whatever it takes to get ‘home’. I was really disappointed. I thought I had already missed the swim cut off with a time of 10 minutes worse than my prior 70.3 in Oceanside. I was going longer on the handcycle than I had in Oceanside which had nearly double the elevation.

I was fighting a headache because my headrest sits above my back axle and it takes every bump or crappy road vibration and drives it directly into my head. Most of the time it’s occasional and that’s fine. But the consistency of the pebble roads took its toll in this race. I literally had to take my head off the headrest to be able to focus on the road clearly.

The End

Once I got ‘home’ into transition I decided I was done. My tank was on empty and with the temperatures and climbs in the run, I didn’t think I’d make it. I decided not to go all the way to failure on course.

In the end, only 2 of the 5 of us hand-cyclists made it to the finish line. Turns out, my swim time did NOT disqualify me. If I had only finished, I could have punched a ticket to a World Championships (WC). But even as I sat there in transition doing the math, I decided I wasn’t ready to go. I don’t want to go just to go. And the couple of months between now and the 70.3 WC I was going to improve enough to not be flailing again on the next stage.

2018: DNF

And so goes my full season and first races. A marathon back-of-the-pack finish and 2 DNFs at 70.3 IRONMAN.

I wanted to be the one that surprised people. I wanted to have solid performances to talk about and not this shit I’m writing right now.

expectation is the root of all evil

They say money is the root of all evil.

I say expectation is the root of all evil.

I believe most frustration and disappointment comes from when we get attached to an expected outcome, and then we don’t get it. Usually, the frustration is biggest when it’s from a person. It’s exponentially bigger when the expectation is of ourselves.

I’m my prime example and I’m no better at handling it for being the wiser.

A Week Later

As I mentioned, in the beginning, I had a thought today that melted away all my frustration and disappointment. Here was that thought process:

“I’m ready to just quit. I don’t have to do this.”

“Actually… I get to do this.”

“There are so many people struggling with bigger things than this.”

“I get to do this because there is a tribe behind me who supports me every step of the way regardless of the outcome.”

“And I couldn’t do this without them.”

Which is completely true. I put out a crowdfund to a small group about a month prior to the race because I realized I didn’t have all the funds to travel to this race with all my gear. They put up $2,000 in a week.

I hated asking. Until some of the comments that came with contributions:

“By the way, Rob, you aren’t racing for you…you’re racing for all of us.”

“Keep it up and don’t hesitate to let us know how we can help support you brother!”

“You are an incredible human being Rob. Keep at those goals! We love you.”

Add to that some contributions of time from some specific people:

My friend Kristin and her daughter, Cayla, got me to and from the airport at home at VERY inconvenient hours. They also helped me with race chair training on weekends.

My cousins, the Loefflers, took time from their busy schedule with two young kids during weekend mornings and took me to the lake to swim open water. Daniel also helped do the heavy lifting on a number of occasions and sought out phantom studs in my ceiling.

There’s my competitors in the race: Evan and Daniel. Both Evan and Daniel gave me pointers on training, nutrition, but most importantly travelling with all this gear. I was intimidated at first, to be honest. But I reached out anyway. I find in triathlon, there’s a ton of camaraderie amongst ‘competitors’ that makes me appreciate this sport more.

For both the Challenged Athletes Foundation for the racing grant and Kelly Brush Foundation for the equipment grant!

Coach Matt Hurley at Purplepatch Fitness, who laid out the plan to be fit and fresh on race day and kept my head in the game!

And certainly saving the best for last here: John. Who I know I’m not the only one who’s benefitted from his generosity with his time, flew with me from Denver to Texas. He’s the best friend/sherpa in the business and I REALLY could not have done many of my races without him.

 

This may seem like a redundant theme in my race recaps this year.

So be it.

I’ve found that surrounding myself with great people is one of the few things that really matter in life.

I’ve found that getting over myself and my ego and asking for support gets me what I need and also allows others to give, and they’re ready to do it.

Focusing out and gratitude are powerful elixirs for self-pity.

I wasn’t ready to publish this blog on a positive note until the positivity was genuine, not some platitude of the right things to say. I knew I was there when I was wiping my eye as I wrote.