I don’t mind telling you my eyes welled with tears. It was hard to fight back and keep it from running down my cheek. It must have been 10 seconds before I took a breath, but it felt like 10 minutes. I was just told my wife does NOT have cancer. A recent medical issue has thrown yet another tailspin at my household. We don’t have every answer yet, but we have the big ones. So, I stop on the way home and pick up a cake. Silly, yes? It’s more for my daughters and we’ll just say mom had a healthy check-up, but tonight we celebrate.

It’s hard for me not to eat the cake, but I sat with my youngest – and ate grapes instead of cake. Jocko Willink says, “Those donuts aren’t food. THEY ARE POISON. Same with the chocolate chip cookies, the chocolate cake, the can of soda, the bag of potato chips….All that junk isn’t going to make you stronger, faster, smarter or better. It’s going to do the opposite. And you know this. YOU KNOW THAT YOU DON’T NEED ANY OF THAT JUNK.”

So, I stay strong,

I’m a heart patient. I am and will always be this. I cannot undo it. This isn’t a job. It’s not Monday through Friday and I get to punch a clock and walk away from it. This is my life. It’s Monday through Monday 24 hours a day, and no one is going to step in and fix it for me. No one can say, “It’s OK Craig. You’ve worked out. You’ve eaten well, you can take a break from that now.” My heart and my cardiovascular system don’t care what the reasoning is. It’s lined with narrowing deposits that could not care less about how someone feels about something.

So, I stay strong.

My niece sends me a message. It’s about camping in August. Where will we explore? Will we hike a mountain? How big is it? Is it a scary mountain? The questions pour in. She tells me how much she’s looking forward to packing things for our outings. We’ll need water and sandwiches and some snacks too. I need to be ready because little girls have big dreams and make big plans. My daughter needs me to be the cool dad who powers across the lake with each kid to a hidden destination full of summertime forest wonder. Then I need to get up the next day and take them on a hike and go exploring. They are depending on me.

So, when my will fades and I’m ready to give in I think of what my goal is. Being here. Being better. Not better than the next guy. Being better than I was yesterday. Better than I am today.

The kids are in bed and my wife and I enjoy peace and quiet as the clock hands point upright. “You want cake?” I reply, “No. It’s for you and the kids. I don’t need it.”

I don’t get to punch out from being a heart patient, and I don’t want to. I will fuel my body correctly and feed it what it needs to ride my bicycle farther. I’ll use that to paddle my kayak longer. I will bring the kids greater adventures. Someday I won’t be here, and I will only survive in their stories. One day I’ll be the uncle that a grandmother tells her grandchild about, who took her all over the place. My name won’t even be used and even if it is, it will mean little – But I will survive. I will survive in those stories and those stories won’t happen unless I do what I promised.

So, I stay strong.