Unlike my friend Dan, I am perpetually underdressed.
I try. Sort of. But it seems I'm always a jacket and pair of dress shoes short. As my wife told me last night after we attended a party here in New York, I tend to look like I just left track practice. Dan, on the other hand, is always pressed and shined, no matter the occasion. I have my own system when it comes to packing for travel, something honed over years on the road. But I'd really like to get better at this dressing appropriately thing. So as we shared an Uber on the way back to the hotel, I asked Dan how he packs. I was impressed: always a coat, tie, pressed shirt and three pairs of shoes. Never check luggage. And so on. I know Dan reads this blog, so a shout-out and a thank you, brother.
Allow me to backtrack. Way back in June, when Calene's cancer treatment was just beginning, she mentioned she'd really like to see Billy Joel in Madison Square Garden. So I bought tickets. They're good seats. The show is Tuesday night. Valentine's Day!
But then the weekend grew. The Millrose Games track meet is also this weekend, so we were there in the Armory. The after-party for the USA Track & Field Foundation was held in an art-filled apartment once owned by Alicia Keyes. Today (I'm writing this on Sunday) is a Broadway matinee for Funny Girl followed by the Super Bowl at our favorite NYC watering hole. Tomorrow is lunch with my agent, followed by lunch with my editor on Tuesday.
All in all, this weekend has become a very full and exciting slate. Even better, we got news last week that Calene's cancer is not quite gone, but getting there. After almost a year of worry, fear, prayer, treatment, and everything else that goes with cancer, we can breathe a little. There were many tears of happiness after we left the oncologist's office.
But I have to admit that I let myself go over the course of the last year. Not just in fitness, but in organization, faith, and pretty much everything else. It is a quirky fact of life that when you focus completely on the welfare of someone else it is convenient not to work on yourself. It's not selfless, it's lazy. So as I reveled in the catered party last night, in a room full of the world's greatest track and field athletes (I'm a track geek), watching a serene Calene in animated conversation with new friends, it struck me that it's time to get to work. One glimpse of myself in a large mirror — baggy jeans, knit hoodie, beer weight — was the proof.
Just as I started writing again back in October after a six month break, now I need to restart that daily process of plugging in to fitness, faith, and keeping my office from looking like a shithole. Welcome back to the world of self-discipline. The break has been traumatic in some ways and like coasting in others. I have so many great friends who have lifted me up over the last ten months. But it's time to get my feet back on the ground.
Which is why I asked Dan about his packing methods. I don't want to dress like a slob. There's a lot of hard work ahead. But if Calene's going to beat this thing, I want her to know the best version of me is at her side for years to come.