Coming Together for Chris

Chris is alive.

Chris, take a deep sigh of relief. You're at the other end now buddy. You are alive and as healthy as can be. You've got a beautiful girl, the best family I've ever known, and a group of friends I've secretly been making my own.

The training Kim, Jen and I are doing is supposed to be a sacrificial symbol of the struggles you endured to beat cancer. But how can I say that the training we're doing is a sacrifice? Kim's running and I know it exhilarates her. It seems that she is being who she is - a competitor. Someone that goes after something she wants. She has a marathon to run. Her first ever. So what did she say to me yesterday? "I'm not worried about finishing it, I'm worried about not going fast enough for us to win."

Jennifer? It is 9pm as I write this. Jen is swimming a couple of miles right now. Is it a sacrifice? No. She's living, she's breathing. She's in her element and giving the same uuumph that she gives on her desk everyday. I have never seen her so focused and happy. And I've never been so proud of her as I am today.

Me? I haven't ridden my bike in 4 years before this event. My last race was against some pretty fast pros and Olympians before I happily disappeared into babyland. But I missed 'the race.' You got me back on my bike again. It's like I've been sleep-deprived dormant for 4 years. I feel awake now. I feel alive.

Thank you Chris. It is around you that a large group of family and friends will travel across the country to celebrate your life and each other.

Cheer us on everyone. Make that cheer loud. Make that cheer echo for a lifetime.