You Don’t Want It Bad Enough

At the end of my physical limits, I slowed down then fell to my knees. My high school track coach, now hovering over me like a bird of prey, let loose a primal scolding: “Get back up! Keep running. Arnette, you don’t want it bad enough.”

After pushing myself so hard that I vomited on a daily basis, my weak ankles were taped before each practice and iced after, I still set records in high school but that was not enough. My coach had confused motivation and intimidation. Neither worked that day as I looked up at him and simply said “Coach, maybe you’re right.”

That was almost 40 years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. His methods were harsh and ineffective but his message had a ring of truth.

As I approached the Balcony on Everest in 2008, my body began to shut down. I stepped off the route, unclipped from the fixed line and watched 40 down clad climbers pass by in silence. I knew I could go higher but also knew if I did, I could not go lower. I could hear my coach saying “Arnette, you don’t want it bad enough.”

I wanted that summit bad, perhaps as bad as I had wanted anything in my life. But something was more important.

That night on Everest, on my knees at 27,500 feet, I knew if I wanted to summit Everest, and survive, I had to do many things differently. I had the opportunity, the means and most important, the desire. On May 21, 2011 I stood on the summit of Everest. I felt tiny, insignificant. I thought of my mom.

Sitting in my mom’s room we looked at her childhood pictures. “Now, who is that?”, I asked her pointing to one of her brothers. “Well, that is.” she stuttered. “Well that is. Hmm, I guess I don’t know who that is.” “That is your brother Bill.” I said gently. Pointing to a picture of her, she had no idea who that woman was.

My mom’s Alzheimer’s was advancing.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted it beyond wanting it “bad enough.” I wanted – more than anything in my life – I wanted.

I wanted her to remember her brothers and sisters, her husband. I wanted her to remember me.

But I was helpless to stop the disease. I was powerless to cure my mom. Four years ago today, she died from Alzheimer’s Disease.

I don’t want another family to go through what we did, what my mom did. I want it bad enough

In the last four years, we have learned a lot about Alzheimer’s. For example that maybe it starts 10 or 20 or even 30 years before symptoms appear. We have learned that a generation of promising drugs and therapies did not work – a new approach is needed.

We learned and experienced that the financial consequences are severe. That the impact on caregivers and kids in Alzheimer’s homes is devastating. We have learned that we are not spending nearly enough on this horrible disease.

I have learned that talking about Alzheimer’s is hard. Most people don’t want to talk about it … until it hits their family. I understand. I didn’t know what I didn’t know until it hit us.

So today, August 16, 2013 take a moment to learn a bit about this disease. The warning signs, research, what the US Government is doing, the world view.

If you already know a bit, then consider a donation. If you have already made a donation, then take a short walk. We do know that the defense against Alzheimer’s is taking care of ourselves through exercise.

Don’t do it for me, or for yourself. Do it for your kids. It is not too late for them.

 Climb On!
Alan
Memories are Everything