Kids Say the Awesomest Things

One of the reasons I augment my career in baseball with book-writing and public speaking is I know kids enjoy hearing my story. Kids - whether they're eager grade-schoolers, feisty junior high teens, or impressionable high schoolers - are all sponges. They soak up information and they're not afraid, ever, to ask questions. I like that. I also like that they're generally not jaded or disillusioned yet and believe they can make a difference in this world. Even youngsters who endure family tragedies or rough upbringings can still usually be convinced that they, their thoughts, and their dreams matter.

I really enjoy when that proverbial light bulb turns on over their head and they're motivated to pursue an educational, athletic, or career goal. I probably get a kick out of seeing that happen because I was one of those kids who wasn't sure if he could be a college student, baseball industry professional, or author until someone said 'yes you can' and 'here's how'.

That's why I worked hard at writing and now continually promoting Swinging for the Fences. That's why I am presently relentlessly gathering pre-sale payments for the next book, The Finish Line. I truly want to see it go into production and am paying for the publishing, which is scheduled for the spring.

I'm reminded of this goal whenever I receive letters, usually collected from teachers who assigned 'Swinging' as classroom curriculum. Kids can be blunt. Kids can be funny. Kids will always, always be honest. Here is a sampling of notes I've received recently. I'll share them in snippets, followed by my thoughts - and/or responses - upon reading them:

Mr. Montoya: I thought your book was so cool. I loved all the stories. I had no idea you work for the Padres football team.

Thank you and me neither, kid. I think I may need to educate the community a little better on what we do.

Alex Montoya, this book was so good to read, I just may read it again. I really liked your quote about, "You never know what you can accomplish until you try it."

That is music to my ears - or eyes, I suppose. If I can get you to read more and try something maybe you didn't think was possible...psssht...I gotta say it was a good day.

After reading this book and telling my friends about it, they wanted to know, so 'what's the meaning of life?'  I told them I didn't know cause I'm only halfway through life. 

Fair enough.

Mr. Montoya, the beginning to the end of the book was amazing and inspiring. You've taught me to never give up in life, no matter what challenges may be thrown at me...I will make my dreams come true.

With an outlook and determined spirit like that, yes you will. Adversity will come, it always does, but you can do anything.

What I learned was that in order to follow your dreams you must keep pushing to reach them. I also learned that it is okay to be "different" from people.

Very true on both accounts. Just like I view my physical difference from most others as a strength, you must be different in striving to be a leader and problem-solver. And whatever goals you have, you're going to have to push and work hard.

I cried when your brother Frankie was jumping up and down when you got into Norte Dame. He seems like a big help to you and a very important person in your life.

Frankie is the light of my life.

I thought my favorite part was when you said you can shave with your left foot. I didn't think anybody could do that!

Truthfully, that was something I USED to do. My stomach and electric razors started changing that. But the point is when you have a need, get creative and focus on what you have, not on what you're missing.

I loved your book and your quotes and am glad I have all four of my limbs.

You should be. We all gotta use what God gave us.

It was so cool when you fought to get an elevator put in that building. At first I thought, who would say no to an elevator? But then I realized there are always challenges and whenever I face a challenge I'm going to believe in myself that I can overcome it.

Egg zactly. Some challenges will make sense. Others will surprise you. But you have what it takes to overcome them all.

I liked that you wrote about baseball. Last year, before the last game, a cousin of mine passed away. I was sad and in the last game, hit a ball over the centerfielder's head. I was shocked 'cause I never hit it that far, always singles, never doubles. Then I figured it was my cousin who gave me the strength to hit the ball....I think I might want to play baseball again this year.

I haven't gotten a chance to write back to this student yet. But when I do I'll express my condolences and support. It sounds like he/she is a courageous youth who now draws inspiration from the cousin's memory. Maybe the book, but for sure that at-bat, taught the most important lesson of all: Always Keep Swinging.

What Heavy D. Meant to Hip-Hop and to Me

At work I have a close friend, Karen Madden, with whom I've attended concerts, participated in endurance races, and shared many conversations about likes and dislikes. We know each other well. So when she walked over to my desk today, stopped, didn't say anything, and kind of looked at me like she wanted to say something but didn't want to say something, I knew it was not good news. She's only given me that look once before in the five years we've worked together, when she heard something within our job didn't go well and I'd be asked about it. So I instantaneously knew this wasn't a crisis. But I knew it wasn't good.

"TMZ just reported," she said, and then paused, "Heavy D. is dead."

Whaaat?

It was so random and sudden. I looked online and verified it and still couldn't believe it. What was crazy was just days earlier I'd seen a new or recent video of his and he'd lost a lot of weight! "He looks good but what do we call him now?" I'd asked K-Mad. "Vitamin D?"

I can't believe that one of the first rappers I genuinely followed is gone, just like that.

I first started really liking hip-hop late in junior high. Previously, I knew of Sugar Hill Gang, but they were like disco era; Grandmaster Flash, who was cool but he and his Furious Five were just that, a little too furious; and LL Cool J, who I respected but he embodied the gold-chain, sideways hat clique that just seemed kind of silly. So admittedly I gravitated more toward pop and R&B.

And I'm still more of an R&B guy. But then 1988 happened.

We all have a year or period we tend to romanticize and this is one of mine. The Fighting Irish won the national championship in football and I fell in love with them. The economy was great. My favorite group, New Edition, had a comeback album. Fades were fresh and high and clothes were colorful. And a new breed of rappers were emerging, primarily from the East Coast, whose lyricism was being heard all the way in my corner of the country, San Diego.

KRS-One. Dougie Fresh. Kool Moe Dee. Big Daddy Kane. MC Lyte. Public Enemy. Tribe Called Quest. Slick Rick.

And one Heavy D., who I'm ashamed to say I still don't know his real name without Googling it.

Now here was a rapper. Quick with a flip of the tongue and clever with a rhyme. He had a crew behind him - "The Boyz" - and they were DJ's, dancers, and singers. That was emblematic of his sound - smooth, catchy, something to which you could easily dance.

And dance he did. It stood out because Heavy D. was, well, heavy. He was a big man. It was as unavoidable as his thick, black goatee and everpresent darkened glasses.

Yet there he was, on "Yo! MTV Raps" or "Fade To Black", pirouetting, spinning, or - the iconic dance move of our generation - doing the Running Man. Hey, go ahead and laugh but when a dance move is done two decades later, if even mockingly, then it's stood the test of time. Heavy would do the Running Man and Cabbage Patch and then either rail against urban street crime or seduce women with his smoothness.

He was versatile. He would crack you up in 1988 with Girls, the girls they love me / 'Cause I'm the Overweight Lover Heavy D.  And then he would add punch and credibility to the 1989 ensemble Self-Destruction (for my money one of the best rap songs ever), a USA-for-Africaesque collection of artists pleading for fans to stop stupid violence.  And then in 1991 he bowled us over with Now That We Found Love and Is It Good To You, both songs a nod to the radio-friendly, New Jack Swing sound that was taking hip-hop from the underground to the mainstream.

He was dapper. He didn't wear the gold ropes or huge rings other rappers did, but they never begrudged his cardigan sweaters and silky slacks. Yet he was still very street and very respected. Then, in the mid-1990s, always ahead of the curve, Heavy D. was at the forefront of rappers transitioning to acting. Go back and look at his scenes with another pioneering rapper/actor, Queen Latifah, in the sitcom Living Single. It was pure gold and paved the way for Ice T, Ice Cube, and even LL and Will Smith to go from one-dimensional rappers to world-famous actors.

But what I appreciate most was this. Go back to 1988, that romanticized period in my life. I was a kid and as much as I enjoyed the times, I really didn't enjoy me. I had big glasses, thick hair, and three prosthetics. All kids and teens are self-conscious but I was especially so.

Then this big rapper appears on my TV screen and in my radio, proclaiming that he is The Overweight Lover. And you know what? "Girls, the girls they loved him." It was an epiphany. Instead of taking something the world considered a blemish or a blight - his weight - Heavy D. embraced it! He owned it, loved it, and made it a huge positive (not to mention lucrative).

So I started calling myself, that's right, The Handicapped Lover. Yep, even did freestyle rhymes about it at school and impressed many girls.

Now, eventually I grew to disdain that word and chose handi-capable and eventually the more socially acceptable "person with a disability". But this was 1990, man, I was young and I was not embarassed to use the word 'handicapped'. It was what I was physically and if I could accept that, and accept myself, then people could accept me - physically, emotionally, spiritually, unconditionally.

I learned all that from one rap artist.

Sadly, hip-hop has devolved and regressed. At the risk of sounding old (which I am) but even worse, stodgy, rap is not what it used to be. What used to be a beautiful collection of rhymes and storytelling is now an amalgm of bragging, sexual exploits, and violent grandstanding. Radio elevated hip-hop music and has now completely watered it down. It saddens me. Seriously.

Only once in a great while, maybe on a reunion tour or VH-1 special do you see the legends like KRS, Q-Tip, or Lyte. I saw Public Enemy a couple summers ago with my pal Colleen McD at the Street Scene Festival in San Diego, and though Chuck D. was a booming menace, Flavor Flav had degenerated into a reality-show joke. Much love to Flav but come on. Where has the royalty of rap's golden generation gone?

One is in heaven now and he can rest comfortably knowing that he impacted the music world. Heavy D. was a brilliant writer, poet, entertainer, actor, producer, and showman. And to one gawky young teen, he was an inspiration. A light like that never goes out of style.

Rotary Conference Speech: The Ethics of Doing More When the World Expects Less

Rotary District Conference Speech – November 4, 2011

Thank you, it is such a blessing to be here today.

I heard that the theme of this conference is ethics.

You know, when we talk about ethics, it has many definitions. Ethics involves morals, and values, and issues of right and wrong. But it can mean so much more.  The dictionary defines ethics as a

Noun:

1.    Moral principles that govern a person's or group's behavior. The moral correctness of specified conduct.

Ethics can also transcend how we conduct our lives. Not just, is it wrong to steal or cheat? We knooow THAT answer. In fact, as humans, we know what ARE the right things to do.  We simply choose not to.  We take an easier path.

So in other words, is it ok to do less if the world accepts less?

For those of you whom I haven’t met yet, my life story is a different one but still filled with ethical choices and moments. I was born in Colombia, South America and the medicine Thylidamide caused me to be born with birth defects - specifically missing my arms and right leg.

When I was two, the Shriners Hospitals flew me from my hometown of Medellín, to California, to receive my first pair of prosthetics. When I was four, my mother knew that, because these trips were expensive, and because I had family living in the United States, it would be better for me to move here permanently. You see, in Colombia at that time, if you were disabled you could not go to school, or hold a job, or have a life. It was a dead-end existence.

But this meant my mother had to make a huge sacrifice. She and my father had very little resources and had never lived anywhere but Colombia. They knew they couldn’t move.

So she had a decision to make: keep her youngest child – I was the youngest of three kids – at home with her? Or allow me to move to the U.S.? That meant she didn’t know when, if ever, she’d see me again. Ever.

How many of you are parents? Raise your hand. How many could give up seeing their child grow up?  My parents did. In order for me to have a better life and to follow moral correctness not only for them, but for me.

Since I was four years old I’ve grown up here in San Diego. My mother has tracked my progress, from childhood, to undergrad at the University of Notre Dame, to graduate school at the University of San Francisco. I have visited Colombia twice, and my parents have taken great pride in a career that has included media relations, being an author and speaker, and working for the San Diego Padres.

Which brings up another question of ethics.

There were many, many times when things weren’t easy. Being a triple amputee and prosthetics wearer is not easy. Quite frankly, it would have been easier for me to just give up and not try so hard at life.

<TELL STORY OF GETTING STUCK ON MONKEY BARS AT AGE SIX.>

I could have expected less from myself. I could have kept expectations low. After all, there were doctors who told my parents I shouldn’t expect to have a normal life. I could have lived off social help, I could have been untrue to my moral and ethical compass.

Well they were right. My life has not been normal. Nor has it been ordinary. It has been EXTRAordinary.

And this is why. I made a pledge many years ago that if my parents were going to sacrifice being able to watch me grow up, in order for ME to have a better life, I needed to honor that. I needed to think of the largest goals and largest ambitions I possibly could. I needed to be unafraid to dream. I needed to be unafraid to TRY.

A major reason for this mindset was when I attended RYLA as a high school junior. Raise your hand if you’ve been to RYLA, the Rotary Youth Leadership Awards camp. If not, I urge you to go next spring. It is one of the GREATEST things Rotary does.

RYLA teaches high school juniors to work together; to break past their fears and worries; to value service above self; to dream, and to change their world while practicing ethics in every aspect of their lives. When I first attended in 1991 it changed my life! So much so that I go back every year.

RYLA also taught me the importance of humor in overcoming adversity. Humor helps you to overcome anything. It strengthens you. A couple years later if people would ask me how much it cost to go to Notre Dame, I’d say, “It cost me an arm and a leg.” And I’d say you can always trust me, because I’ll never commit armed robbery.

Ok, ok, I’ll stop with my disarming humor. Sorry.

RYLA is a special place because Rotary is a special organization. An organization that values service above self. An organization that teaches us if we have, we must give. If we prosper, we must help others. If we have time, we must serve others. If we don’t have time, we must make time.

So I ask you today: are you making the most of your life and your Rotary membership? Are you learning more and expanding your mind? Are you setting goals for you, and your club, that are more than safe and are exceeding expectations? If not, are you really living to the highest work and moral ethics possible?

You know, I entitled my first book “Swinging for the Fences” because that was the perfect baseball metaphor. Swing for the fences, hit a home run. But I took on a new challenge last year unrelated to baseball.

 I tried my first series of endurance races, from 5K’s to the San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon. The 5K’s I did on my own and the marathons I was part of a relay team. Let me tell you, going through the grind and exhaustion of a marathon with a prosthetic leg is not easy.

But it’s not impossible. <Pause.>

It requires months of preparation. It takes prayer. It takes stamina. It takes the ability to push through, even when your body wants to just stop.

This is living to the highest possible standard. This is giving it your all, because you CAN.

In my job, I am blessed to work for an organization that believes in giving. The San Diego Padres make community giving part of our everyday corporate culture. My role is to specifically help the ballclub impact the Hispanic community. That’s a part of having strong ethical standards.

I often talk to my mother about it, and though she’s getting older and battling some things, she’s tough. She tells me the pride she feels in my accomplishments and how I’ve overcome. I tell her it’s what she instilled in me.

And what Rotary instills in YOU. A work ethic that is tireless and fierce. A moral ethic to do good in this world!

It is who Rotary is! It is who we are! It is who we ALWAYS will be!

God bless you. Thank you.

Of Malcolm, Magic, & John and a Visit to a Community Garden

Last night I checked my work e-mail before I went to bed and I drowsily stumbled upon a message sent by my friend Malcolm in L.A.   Malcolm and I lived in the same dorm at Notre Dame, where he was a couple years behind me and a member of the football team. He is now a banking vice-president with his wife, who he met at ND, and two kids.

His e-mail was completely out of the blue in that it wasn't about our Irish's big matchup this Saturday vs. USC or anything about sports, except to say that his son really likes baseball and therefore was intrigued by my job.

The gist, though, was this: apparently on a quiet night in his household, Malcolm and his children, both under ten years of age, were clicking through his friends' various Facebook pages. When for whatever reason they reached mine - probably because I post more than Mark Zuckerberg himself - the kids started asking questions. I presume about my arms, though Malc didn't say that. They then told him that I "probably have a lot of friends".

Malcolm said, yeah, even in college he had lots of friends. But then he asked them, how can you tell Alex has lots of friends?

According to the e-mail, his son said something to the effect of, 'because he is smiling and in his pictures all his friends are smiling with him. That makes people want to be around him.'

For Malcolm, this was liberating. He actually called it "one of my proudest moments of parenting." I am guessing he has tried to tell his kids that how they treat others will be how others treat them. And boys, instinctively, kind of go the other way in that they try to be big and bad. When his children saw that I try to treat people well and am indeed blessed with many friends, something registered.

Well, I wrote him back the next morning, thanking him for sharing all that with me. But there were two things I wanted to elaborate upon as well. The first was that my happiness, my joy, my peace, stems from my faith. My relationship with God helps me to appreciate the good times and endure the bad. I can't take credit for being joyful unless someone knows why I'm that way.

The second is on my desk sits a picture of me with Hall of Fame basketball player Earvin "Magic" Johnson. I keep it on there not because he's a legendary Laker. But because when I was a kid I wanted to be tough like Malcolm's son's peers probably do. There's nothing wrong with being tough and standing up for yourself. But in everyday life, Magic was unafraid to just be happy, smiling, carefree, and good to others. It was refreshing in a world of spoiled and surly athletes. So I took a cue from that growing up because I felt like my nature was closer to Magic Man's rather than cocky Larry Bird or even - as much as I love him - trash-talking Michael Jordan. People responded when Magic smiled and laughed so I figured I'd try the same. Somehow they listened to me too.

So THAT, I told Malcolm, is why I'm known as a pretty happy person who loves people and is blessed to have people give love back.

I say all this because it underscores a cool experience I had today. My friend Pedro and I toured the Olivewood Garden and Learning Center in National City, where they have a self-sustaining garden for community kids to keep and preserve. It was really cool and the centerpiece of this plot of land is a Victorian-style mansion formerly owned by the Waltons of Walmart fame.

Two of the Walton offspring wanted their young son to live in a normal neighborhood, not a secluded and ritzy one, so they lived here for many years. The house is now a museum and community center and the garden is a community entity and is next to the International Community Foundation, which funds many causes on both sides of the border.

I bring all this up because Sam Walton wanted to make a difference in this world and that influenced his son John. That influenced John and his wife Christy into buying this house, smack dab in National City, for their son Lucas. The Waltons, in many ways, have positively impacted this country.

It's all about knowing who you are and not being afraid to make a difference. Magic did it with a smile, a basketball, and later a spirit to help inner-city entrepreneurs. The Waltons did it with an old house and a plot of land. People can make an impact simply by showing their true spirit.

Know who you are and don't be afraid to show it. That is the first step in really making a difference in this world.

You Gotta Have Heart. Or "Corazón".

Today was one of my best days in a long time. It started with my friend Heather Laird, a.k.a. "Smiles", - I'll explain - picking me up at 6am at my house. Months ago she had asked if I could deliver an A-MOtivational Presentation to the counselors of a camp for which she volunteered. It's an early day, she had said, but you can sleep on our way up.

If there's one thing I can do well, it's sleep. So after a slumber that made me completely miss Orange County, I awoke as we entered the exciting and ennervating city of Los Angeles. I love L.A.'s energy. It's never lacking and it's always awesome to see the Capitol Records building and Studio City and the skyscrapers of downtown. We arrived in North Hollywood and I chuckled that our day-long training would be at the Masonic Temple because the Masons basically created the Shriners - the organization that flew me to this country when I was 2 and provided me free prosthetics at their hospitals in San Francisco and L.A. from age 4 - 21. Hooray for (North) Hollywood!

I was prepared, as we climbed the concrete stairs into the Temple, to fire up these counselors of Camp Corazón. I was ready to hit them with the emotional punches befitting of a camp for kids with heart defects. What I wasn't prepared for was that every counselor greeted me with a hug. Whoooaaa, buddy! Or that a camp rule was that you go by a nickname of your own choosing so suddenly I was receiving these embraces from adults named Gumby, Apple, and Shrek. True story.

Whereas I was ready to motivate them, they motivated me. It was Rotary's Camp RYLA and Notre Dame first day of fall classes all in one. Everyone hugging each other, telling jokes, talking smack, and performing skits. I saw that a main crux of this camp, and this orientation-like atmosphere, was to let kids who had always been told 'no' that this camp would be their first chance of hearing 'yes'.

I grabbed a pen and revised my notecard because I had experiences with both: as described in my first book, friends who said YES let's try the Monkey Bars, and the Camp Anytown director who said NO you shouldn't be here because you might get hurt.

After about two and a half hours it was finally my turn to rock the mike.

I started by explaining that I wanted my nickname to be The Situation. But after lifting my shirt and reviewing my abs, or lack thereof, I saw that I was short, stocky, and yet powerful. Hence my official camp name, one given to me in college: Sparkplug.

I explained about my disability and how my arms worked but spoke slowly because some of the doctors were from USC. (The UCLA grads looooved that one.)

I talked about my camp experiences and how summer camps, especially for those with physical challenges, can be life-defining. How sometimes we provide hope just by our actions. I recounted how the first marathon relay I did with Team MADness motivated a lady who was running for her deceased father and was ready to quit - but didn't.

You can make a difference, I told the 100 or so mostly young adult volunteers. Because you ARE the difference.

They received it real well and I felt the love. I made many friends afterwards, from someone who is helping actors in the Little People community gain jobs, to a guy that wants to teach me Wall climbing, to young ladies who showed me the scars from their heart surgeries.

It was from the latter that I think I learned the most. I know I have my challenges and have endured my share of "pain".  But present in that Masonic Temple (just a space, by the way, this camp isn't affiliated with the Masons) were counselors who had survived heart defects and surgeries as kids. Many of them hadn't enjoyed the activities of youth because other kids had teased them about their scars. Or they were afraid to overexert themselves. Can you imagine being 7 or 10 or 12 and not being able to run and jump and have fun?

This camp, held on Catalina Island, had allowed them that freedom and now they were providing it for other youths aged 7 - 17. Incredibly, some of them were still going back for heart treatments. Now that's courage.

I stuck around and had a marvelous day. And not just because for the second straight afternoon I had In 'n' Out for lunch. #Winning!!

I met incredible people nobly living and assisting an incredible cause.

We left L.A. before the late August sun had dipped into the Pacific and I did what I do best, sleep in the car. Smiles drove and chatted with her backseat buddy - "Kitty" - and I awoke to my cell phone blowing up with texts. Colleen McD, Larimer, and Ana Maria were all at the Padres game and apparently we were beating down Florida 14-1. I had felt guilty about taking a night off of work but my boss Sue had told me this was a great opportunity and to enjoy it.

She was right. Tomorrow we'll honor Trevor Hoffman, himself a survivor of a kidney transplant, who'll someday be in the Hall of Fame. You can never take anything for granted or minimize the impact it may have when kids get a second chance. Sometimes the one most impacted is you.

Farewell, Harry, and the Generation You Impacted

Don't worry, if you intend to see the final installation of the Harry Potter saga, I won't divulge any plot surprises or storylines. So know that and also know I saw it as a capper to an outstanding weekend - one in which I went to the Maroon 5/Train concert with Lisa Lisa and Colleen McD; lunched with my college buddy JC, visiting while on Naval leave; and dinner with Slick, KRB, and Rossi at Casa Guadalajara, which then turned into an impromptu softball game on the sandlot next door.

Frankie had been asking to see this movie specifically, which he normally doesn't do, so even though my funds are a bit low, I had to do it. It's fitting that we went to Horton Plaza, because that's the mall where my sister had her first job and I've frequented it since I was 15, with high school buddies and adult dates. Further, Frank and I lunched at the Great Steak Escape (another longtime hangout) and on the TV was the sports documentary "The U". I mention that because in chronicling the rise and fall of the 1980s Miami Hurricanes, they also document some fierce battles with Notre Dame. I grew up on that rivalry. Such great memories.

And that, in essence, is what this final Potter chapter is about. Fantastic memories.

I could tell you about how once we slipped on our special-effects sunglasses, the visuals were astounding and Frankie was on the edge of his seat the entire time. Plus Hermione is even hotter in 3-D.

I could also note that the storyline tied up some loose ends while introducing some undiscovered "A-ha!" moments. A lot gets explained while there are still multiple twists and turns like an old stairwell at Hogwarts.

Conversely, one criticism I have is there are moments when they seemingly tried to rush through things. Instead of intense good vs. evil battles, or Harry and friends looking absolutely doomed - as in films past - it was almost like the creators just wanted to get through this. Like they were saying you know he's made it this far, there's no sense in fooling you into false despair.

But the way he gets out of things, and some of the end results, are worth your money. Between the 3-D, script dialogue, hotness of Hermione, and plot twists, I didn't want to remove my eyes from the screen to look into my popcorn. True story. As Ron Weasley says at one point, "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!"

Now, this is what I've grown to love about Potter, including this final flick. I wasn't an instant reader of the books upon J.K. Rowling's debut release in 1997. In fact, it took me until 2009 to read them and catch up on the movies. But I quickly became riveted by two things: Rowling's writing and the way, quite literally in the cinematic productions, we were watching these kids grow. I love any movie, TV series, book, and sometimes even music groups that allow you to grow WITH a group of people.

For millions of people, Harry Potter spanned a generation as they grew from kids to young adults. This last movie captures that beautifully.

For me, I wasn't among that growth but I've enjoyed seeing it all around me. I love the character development and maturation and action and history of it all.

Potter and Hogwarts has always reminded me of Notre Dame and South Bend, Indiana. His struggles with his step-parents reminded me of some tough times my family had to work through too. And like I said, sentimentality was in full Swing for me this weekend because Maroon 5 has expressed my feelings in song through the 2000s; Jean-Claude has been a buddy since we were pre-freshmen at ND and I hadn't seen him since 2004; and of course I love my current MVPD crew.

And, you know, I love spending time with Frankie. It's not easy with a person who has Down Syndrome, struggles to walk long distances, and can be adamant about wanting more food. But I've come to realize how much he appreciates our movie days, and is genuinely grateful to me, and truly loves Potter. We got home to the aroma of fresh spaghetti wafting through the air, and I got ready for a workout walk, while Frankie immediately found a Potter movie marathon on ABC Family.

I'll always remember that. And I'll always be thankful to the Potter movies for many outings with Frankie. Today was a great day and this movie, in and of itself, was sensational.   

When Quitting Is Not An Option

The following is a timeline of my participation in today's Rock 'n' Roll San Diego Half-Marathon Relay. Some times are exact and some are approximate:

4:17am - I awake with a combined sense of urgency and excitement. It's race day, the day for which I've been training for six months. Three minutes later I realize my relay partner, Karen Madden, had set my cell phone alarm just in case. The message on the screen: "Wake up, bitch!"

4:57 - Some people eat bananas on race day. Forget that. I eat Strawberry Pop Tarts.

5:20 - I have ten minutes to walk down the cul de sac and cross the street before the 11 bus to downtown arrives. I've lightly stretched but realize halfway down I didn't stretch my back extensively. Walking briskly without fully stretching is a no-no for me.

6:45 - After many delays and proving that last year's ineptitude was no fluke, City Transit takes me on a trolley, then a shuttle, then another trolley just to get to Fashion Valley Mall.

7:18 - There are no signs anywhere indicating where at Fashion the relay transition zone is located. But a nice store employee who has let me in to use the restroom points the way.

8:55 - I walked way too fast up the hill to reach Friars Road because K-Mad was texting saying she was getting closer. So as I waited I continually stretched and then was thrilled to see, in succession, Krystal DiStefano, Alison Glabe, Nina "Peanut" Tarantino, and shortly thereafter, Katie Leisz.

8:57 - Karen arrives with Colleen McEniry in tow and I double fist-bump them. Ashley Schamu, a.k.a. Scham-Wow, is Colleen's relay partner so she's there too. Our co-worker Joslin Joseph takes a group picture and Karen admonishes me: "No stopping for chit-chats."

9:00 - I am off at 9 on the dot and two things surprise me: the crowd is cheering and the road is slanted, dipping east to west. Both have me walking much faster than I would prefer at the outset.

9:12 - It's sunny but with a Fresh, cool breeze, almost like an autumn day. This is good. The roads are very slanted and uneven and I can feel my left (good) leg is overcompensating, tightening up my lower back right muscles. This is bad. Very bad.

9:27 - The streets have flattened out and I'm in a better groove finally. I stop periodically to loosen the back and keep it stretched out. This helps, as does the DJ who has set up on the sidewalk to play energetic, fist--pumping music.

9:49 - A man runs up beside me and has his wife take a picture of us as we walk forward. A girl grabs my shoulder, snaps a picture as she speed-walks and says, "You're awesome."  I respond, "You're hot."

10:17 - We are passing Morena Blvd. and again the road is sloping. This is making me walk awkwardly and my back tenses up.

10:31 - I am pleasantly surprised to see an old Access Center colleague, Sandra Mendez, running in her first marathon, plus people are seeing my Notre Dame mesh shorts and yelling, "Go Irish!"  LIKE.

10:45 - My right leg, Black Max, is getting plenty of attention and cheers from runners and spectators alike. But I'm noticing that my prosthetic sock is slipping downwards from my hip, probably just caused by heat and duress. What this does is force me to stop, pull my hip up so my real leg is not sticking within the artificial one, and then take a few steps to settle back in. It's not painful but is annoying.

11:05 - I am getting doused in water by a team of volunteers in an area called "Margaritaville". They are blaring Jimmy Buffet music and, in true Parrot Head fashion, are regaled in Hawaiian shirts. I see Bruce and Patty Whitlow, parents of my friend Kimmy, and they give me a quick hug and word of encouragement.

11:12 - There is a concrete median and I see where runners have turned and are now walking opposite of my direction, as a loop. I am tempted to just cross that median. I'm sorry.

11:17 - I see two young ladies holding signs. One says: "Go Faster!"   The other reads: "That's What She Said."   I LOL.

11:20 - I am barely making that loop and, brother, I am hurting. My right hip feels strained. My left ankle feels wobbly, like I just want to roll over on it. Whereas I had been answering well-wishers with a clear-voiced "Thank You!", I now find it hard to breathe.

11:23 - This feels endless. We are near Mile 12 of the 13-mile course for relayists, but I feel spent. I can't...do...this. I'm not really walking...I'm...lurching forward.

11:25 - A lady is walking her dog near Sea World Drive and starts walking beside me. I nod politely. She then blurts out, "So...what the hell happened to you?"  If Peanut were there, frankly, the lady would've been punched in the mouth.

11:27 - I'm not going to make it. I just want to quit. An elderly man rides up next to me on his bicycle and asks if he can escort me part of the way. Sure, why not? I see he has two small American flags on his bike so I say, "Hey, man, what are you gonna do with an extra flag?"  He replies, "Nothing, man, you want one?"  I say Yeah and so if you see pictures of me waving a flag, that's how I got it.

11:29 - Good friend Trina, as is her custom, waits at the beginning of the final mile and brings forth many cheers and camera-clicks. Suddenly I feel good. Exhausted but motivated. I can load up for one last stretch.

11:31 - Two volunteers ask if they can walk with me. One equally worn out walker sees me, starts crying, and just gives a thumbs up. I think about how blessed I am to live in the greatest country in the world and how here no dream or goal is absurd or unattainable.

11:34 - The thought strikes me that a race course is America. Runners and walkers, complete strangers, exhorting each other - black, white, Latino, Asian, gay, straight, disabled, non-disabled, men, women, old, young. This is Americans at their finest.

11:35 - The Finish Line is a few feet away and the dual emcees remember me from last year, I think. The female one is prepared with some dance moves so I respond by shaking my thang.

11:37 - I see my main Ollie Neglerio from Competitor Group - the awesome company who puts these races on - and he takes official pictures of my Finish Line routine. Swing, shimmy, point to the heavens, shake the torso, half-spin, point like Justin Timberlake.

11:40 - I officially cross the line, probably figuratively and literally, and my buddy Colleen McDonald stops filming my dancing and places a medal over my neck. She has been a great friend since graduate school at USF and I'll always treasure this great memory, especially when our other close friend, Jonathan Sandoval, completed the full maraathon just a few minutes later.

We did it. We scratched and clawed and trained and prayed and fought through adversity and we did it. I used to laugh at marathon runners because they looked so miserable but now I get it. It's the sheer challenge of putting your body through that and emerging victorious. It's never giving up and never giving in. It's the American way.

Anyone can do it and everyone should try it. I believe so strongly in that, I'm working on a book about it. Keep your eyes peeled for that. But this isn't about shameless self-promoting, it's about reaching deep down and gutting your way to a triumph.

A marathon is just like life. It requires discipline, heart, tenacity, preparation, desire, and the will to not give up. Don't ever give up.

We did it. And so can you.