Tag: RFOL2020

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Deadlines

If you’ve spent any amount of time here, specifically over the last ten months or so, you are likely well aware of what’s been happening with my family. I’m speaking, in general about my son Ryan’s struggles with PTSD, but in particular, I’m speaking about Run For Our Lives and the effort Ryan and Danielle are making to call attention to, and raise money for, Illinois Firefighter Peer Support (ILFFPS) which is the resource they turned to when he was in a crisis state and almost added to the 130 firefighters that died last year by suicide.

One of the few ways Ryan has almost always been able to find solace, especially when he was deep in the throes of his PTSD, was through running. He’s been a runner for pretty much his entire adult life. The joy he’s found on the road or trail as he runs has helped him find some peace, even at times when that felt like the last thing he would ever achieve. So running was a natural way for him to try to raise funds to pay forward on behalf of firefighters that may be dealing with demons similar to those he’s fighting.

When Ryan and Danielle explained to me what they were doing; that he would run one kilometer for every firefighter that died in 2019 by suicide, and how it would work; that they would have people sign up to run “alongside” him in a virtual 130 km run, the skeptical part of my mind kicked in. Fortunately, I kept my big mouth shut. The last thing either of them needed from me at the time was doubt. But as they told me their goal was to get 50 people to sign up for their virtual run, which would take place from February 1st to May 30th, I thought that might be pretty tough to reach.

Let me just say, HAH!

I have rarely, if ever, been more glad to be wrong about something in my life. As of last night the registration total stood at 90. Which is incredible, to say the least.

But really, to be thisclose to DOUBLING their initial goal? I stand even more amazed at the fortitude those two have shown in the face of incredible adversity. I’m always, always, always proud of all of my kids. My bonus kids too. So the very least I can do is put this out there for any of you that have been thinking about signing up to be a part of this. Today is your last day to sign up.

As a reminder, $100 of the $130 registration fee will go to ILFFPS to help them provide essential service to firefighters, and their families, that find themselves teetering on the brink. You’ll be sent a Google Doc to track your mileage (in case you’re wondering, 130 km translates to 80.7 miles), you’ll be invited to a private Facebook group for encouragement, you’ll get, upon completion, some cool race swag in the form of a t-shirt and a medal. And, maybe best of all, you’ll be playing a role in helping to save someone’s life.

Think about that for a minute. Does it sound hyperbolic? Maybe. But it’s the truth. The $100 sent in from your registration will help save lives. What better feeling is there than that?

I’m keeping this one short today. A.) I don’t think I can top that last point and B.) I want to get this up on the interwebz as soon as I can. So I’mma end with this. If you’ve signed up already, thank you. If you’ve contemplated signing up, please do so, today. If my tired, old, ass can do this, your’s certainly can. It’s super simple to register, just follow this link to the form and don’t forget to submit your payment info at the bottom (I almost did when I registered. Don’t be me). Piece of cake.

And, of course,

Peace.

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Forty Isn’t Old, If You’re A Tree

Jesus I’m old. This is not some new phenomenon btw, but today, it got reinforced in an unforgiving way. Today, my second child hit 40 years old.

Sigh.

I’m not even going to ask how it happened, I mean, duh, right? But there are questions in there. How did this cheesy little tow-head

get so old so fast? That picture feels like it was about two years ago. It also provides further documentation that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, since closer inspection reveals he is holding a chocolate cupcake. He’s also already got a well developed, if subtle, “Really Dad?” look on his face. Although I must say, I never got too many of those from him over the years. Unlike a certain unnamed sibling.

As I thought about what I wanted to say to mark today, I knew I had to include one of my fondest memories of his childhood. The day I was convinced he was going to play in the big leagues. He was a toddler, probably between 16-19 months old. We were all out in the front yard, doing I have no clue what. But he had his new, plastic bat in his hand. I was sitting on the front step of the house and he was eight or ten feet in front of me. I grabbed the plastic wiffle ball that came with his bat and tossed it to him. First time ever. So, obviously this was the first time he’d ever swung a bat at a “pitched” ball. He lined the ball off my chest. I mean like “THWACKTHUMP” quick. And that rocket shot was produced by the sweetest little, natural, left-handed swing. Now, this may not seem like anything to many, maybe most of you. But at this, still early stage of parentdom, I was convinced this kid was going to be a professional ballplayer.

Of course, he didn’t become a ballplayer. It’s safe to say the gene card deck was stacked against him. But, too, I don’t believe that was ever his passion. You don’t throw yourself into something you’re not passionate about. You don’t try to change the way things are if you’re not passionate about why the change is needed. You don’t take up the fight that benefits others more than yourself (since your ship has already sailed) without passion.

The 39th year was not an easy one for my son. He’s faced, and continues to face, a challenge that has bested many. And he keeps moving forward. Coming from a crisis state, which he was in last spring, to today, is nothing short of remarkable to me. The transparency, the openness of what he’s gone and is going through is inspiring to me. The fact that he chose to continue addressing his struggles with PTSD through the passion of his service to others is, to me, far more impressive than if he had, in fact, played major league baseball. Conceiving of Run For Our Lives to raise awareness of the very real problem of firefighter suicide, something A.) we weren’t even aware was a problem as recently as five years ago and B.) raising money for an organization, Illinois Firefighter Peer Support, (ILFFPS) that provided help for Ryan and Danielle on the day they realized he couldn’t go on, speaks to me about the type of man he has always been.

And it will always make me think about the day I got a text from Danielle that read, simply, “You have a minute”

The day he almost became a statistic.

The day he took his first step towards light.

So, at this point, I’m going to ask you to, if you haven’t already, click on this link and register to be a part of the Run For Our Lives virtual run. It’s pretty painless, mainly since you don’t need to run or walk all 130 kilometers on one day, like Ryan will. The virtual run opens February 1st and must be concluded by May 30th. The math is a little over a half mile every day between those two dates. The fee is $130 and of that amount $100 will go to ILFFPS, an organization funded totally by donations, so that they can continue to provide essential resources to firefighters, and their families, that find themselves in a crisis state. If you’ve already registered, invite a friend to do it with you. If you’re in a position to make a corporate type sponsorship, contact me and I’ll get you in touch with the right people. Before I give up this particular pulpit, let me also add a phone number or two; 855-90-SUPPORT if you or a first responder you know is at or nearing crisis. 800-273-8255 is the number for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline for anyone that may be in need.

Lastly, I think, I want to thank everyone that has registered so far. You’re helping to make a difference in the lives of people you’ll liklely never meet and that’s no small thing.

Ok, I lied, I’ve got one last thing… I just want to wish this guy a Happy 40th!!!

I know you’re a fan of naps, but I hope as you settle into this new decade on the planet, you find true value in their recuperative powers. Even if you no longer get to share them with Tobi the Jack Russell terrorist (not a typo). Have a great day Ryan, I’ll talk to you tonight. I love you.

Peace.

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Run For Our Lives

I’ve referenced titling these gems on occasion here, that sometimes it’s harder to come up with a title than it is the subject. Well, this one was easy enough to title, since my focus is on the ongoing efforts of my son and daughter-in-law to promote awareness, and prevention, of firefighter suicide. For those of you that haven’t been following along, Run For Our Lives is the fundraising effort they’ve started since Ryan “went public” with his PTSD. He’ll be raising money by running one kilometer for every firefighter to die by suicide in 2019. As compiled by Firefighter Behavioral Health Alliance that number is 130. So on May 30, 2020 he’ll take off on a run of 130 km (80.7 miles). The target of this fundraising effort is Illinois Firefighter Peer Support Group which is the organization Danielle reached out to for help as Ryan sank deeper into the depths of his PTSD. Their support, by my son’s own admission, helped prevent him from becoming a statistic.

The method for meeting the goal they’ve set, raising $10,000.00 for ILFFPS, is called a virtual run. As I said, Ryan will be doing his run on May 30, 2020, however the virtual run will take place beginning February 1st and must be completed by May 30th. So you can run as much or as little each day until you hit the 130 kilometer mark. In case I’ve left something out, or caused you confusion about how this works, here’s a short video explaining the virtual run –

I don’t think the video mentioned the registration fee, although I know it’s on the form (link to follow), but the cost is $130.00. Of this amount, $100.00 will go to Illinois Firefighter Peer Support to assist them as they work to support Fire and EMS personnel in crisis. Let me take a minute here to say I recognize this post is already link intensive, but there’s a lot of information to share, and it’s important that this stuff gets out there accurately. Also I’m not done linking stuff so…

For instance, late last week the Chicago Tribune put up this story about Ryan and Danielle and their path through PTSD to this point. It’s been picked up by numerous outlets and is helping spread the word that we need to stop stigmatizing PTSD and instead need to address it for what it is, a fact of life for many people, but one that need not destroy lives. I feel like I need to say something here, not that I’ve been shy about saying it to anyone at any time, but I feel like it needs to come out again. I’m incredibly proud of both Ryan and Danielle for what they’ve gone through, what they’re going through and dealing with what lies ahead of them. This obviously hasn’t been easy for either of them, but they’ve responded to the challenge placed in their lives wonderfully. I also want to acknowledge the incredible outpouring of support they’ve received to this point from so many people, thanks for that.

I think I’m down to one last link for this post but it is likely the most important one, the registration form for anyone that wants to take part in the virtual run. It’s a Google document so it should be easy for even the most computer illiterate among us to fill out and submit and, as I mentioned above, the money raised is going to an incredibly worthwhile cause. Clicking on this link will take you to the document and following the instructions there will get you registered. If you’ve already registered, thank you! If you haven’t please consider signing up today. Together we can make a difference. I know that sounds cheesy, but it’s the truth.

This picture was taken by Danielle and it is, to me anyway, one of the most powerful pictures I’ve seen in some time. Let’s hope through our efforts, no one on this job has to feel this sense of being overwhelmed again. Thanks.

Peace.