I can’t run

My college lacrosse teammates and I were required to run two miles in 12 minutes (or less) at the beginning of each season or we’d be made to run before each daily practice until we succeeded—a fitting test, I suppose, of the will and physical prowess needed for the sport. It usually took me three or four tries before making time each year—some did it on their first try. A few others never could run it in time, so they kept our sideline benches warm throughout the season—not fun, especially during the winter months.

Flash forward to present day in what might now be the winter of my discontent wherein, for about the last three to four months, I literally can’t run at all due to sudden and severe foot and leg pains that seemed to come out of nowhere. I’ve been self-diagnosing and, at first, I thought I was developing the “G” word—lord knows enough people around me have bouts with gout regularly—and then (based on something I saw on an infomercial) I was convinced I had something called plantar fasciitis (and, of course, I would need the product they were peddling). The truth is I don’t yet know what’s causing such debilitating pain in my foot, but someone was kind enough to point out, “No offense, but it’s most likely your weight.” Another friend of mine likes to say, “The old foundation can no longer support the extensions on the house”— truth to power here. It is quite unnerving to be so blatantly and painfully confronted by the prospect of my own physical decay.

The bigger truth is that we can’t run from the truth—“a lie doesn’t become truth, wrong doesn’t become right, and evil doesn’t become good just because” we manage to avoid it. Put another way, we can try to run, but we cannot hide particularly from ourselves.

In what comes as no surprise, my life of excess (at least in terms of overeating, drinking and general sloth-like existence over the course of the last 20 years) seems to be catching up and for the past few months has nearly immobilized me entirely (emphasis on nearly, it’s going to take a lot more than foot and leg pains to keep me down or take me out entirely—I haven’t given up yet). We hear a lot about the potential consequences of unhealthy living, namely revolving around the fear of an early death, but perhaps not enough is said about the toll of physical and mental decay on our quality of life. Nobody really ever tells you how much the aches and pains of a fat and aged body hurt nor do we hear much about self-doubt and mental battles that go hand in hand. The combination, for me, of reckless behavior in my so-called prime (until present really) and the inevitable wear and tear of aging has been damaging and, for emphasis, painful. While I dread the idea of spending my waning years on the sideline benches of life, I find myself lacking in will or physical prowess to do much about it beyond talking and thinking. The insanity of doing the same things over and over expecting a different result is real. Pathetic. I know.

That is, no doubt, way too much information in yet another gut-spilling editorial, but perhaps my truth will resonate and help in someone else’s journey.

If I could offer advice “based on nothing more than my own meandering experience” (in the famous words of a song by Baz Luhrmann), ♫♪

“Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind, you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they fail. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your mind, the kind that blindsides you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

“Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

“Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.

“Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

“Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

“Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

“Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

“Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

“Respect your elders. Be careful with whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.

“Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling for more than it’s worth.” ♪♫

Life really does seem to go by in the blink of an eye.

There is no shortage of irony, given recent revelations (if not acceptance) of my personal physical and mental deterioration, in the fact that I’ve spent the better part of the last 25 years advocating for the needs of individuals with disabilities and currently work at the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation more commonly known as OVR.

OVR was established for eligible individuals with disabilities to prepare for and engage in competitive integrated employment or supported employment in order to achieve economic self-sufficiency. To be eligible for the VR program, individuals must have a physical or mental impairment that results in a substantial impediment to employment, require and be able to benefit from VR services to achieve employment and maximize career goals. Of the total funding received the Basic Support grant, OVR must set aside 15% in reserve to provide pre-employment transition services to students with disabilities between the ages of 16 and 21 who may be potentially eligible for the VR program.

While it may have always been true, it’s only recently becoming more apparent even to myself that “I’m not only the [OVR director], but I’m also a [potential] client.”

For more information on Basic Support and/or Pre-ETS services through the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation, please feel free to contact the office at (670) 322-6537/8 or online at www.ovrgov.net.

“While it may have always been true, it’s only recently becoming more apparent even to myself that ‘I’m not only the [OVR director], but I’m also a [potential] client.’”

Jim Rayphand is director of the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation and is a former executive director of the Northern Marianas Protection and Advocacy Systems Inc.