MARKET:  New York
ATHLETE:  J.P. Kril, Stifel

Maximizing My Vitality - From the Heart of a Caregiver  

I’m competing for my dad, a man who would burn himself up to give others the light.   Life is beautiful, exhilarating and fun, yet simultaneously precious, delicate, and finite. Perhaps, the latter is what creates and consistently reinforces the former. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. I believe that each moment of each day should serve a purpose to foster the best version of yourself and those around you, while abiding by a set of core principles and beliefs that will not be compromised and will never be subjugated to dogma.

You should strive to protect the weak, to pick up the fallen, to shepherd those in despair and to stay loyal to those by your side. Most importantly of all, never, ever should you leave anyone in your circle behind, even if it’s inconvenient and to your own detriment. These people in your circle are your teammates; the strength and loyalty of that team won’t be challenged on bright and sunny days, but during the coldest and darkest of stormy nights. It’s your responsibility as a teammate to shoulder another’s burdens and battle another’s demons; together. Certain battles that you and your team will inevitably face cannot be won alone.  

My dad was diagnosed with late stage multiple-myeloma in June of 2015. The disease, chemo treatments, depression, and unrelated outside forces changed my dad from an indestructible, 6’2, 220lb., V-tapered, confident man to a 5’11, barely 150lb., self-conscious individual fighting to survive. By the numbers since diagnosis: zero cure, one stem-cell transplant, one-ruptured colon, two ambulance rides, two holidays spent in the hospital, two deteriorating vertebrae, six-months of self-injecting medication, seven-months wearing a colostomy bag, eight hours of lifesaving surgery, twelve pills taken daily, hundreds of doctors’ visits, and thousands of bone lesions. What’s left is a guy still fighting.  

Life is a gift and we should live a life that others would be proud of in honor of those who aren’t as fortunate as us, like those distressed by a disease that no one wishes to call their own. I have dedicated myself to maximizing my vitality and never settling for mediocrity. My legacy will most accurately be measured by those closest to me, my teammates. I surely won’t reflect back on my life while on my death bed and be tortured in my mind with the thoughts of regret, wishing I had lived my life differently. I go all-in on everything I commit to. I give 100% effort 100% of the time.   Truthfully, my mind is desecrated from the despair of seeing my larger than life father so helpless and debilitated. I save all his voicemails out of fear of one day forgetting his voice; I call him every day to make sure he remembers someone loves him; and I panic when I miss a call from him, hoping that it wasn’t the last time his name appears on my screen. The pain and sorrow at least remind me that my heart is still alive. It won’t be convenience that serves as the basis for my relationship with him. When others have let him down and pushed his heart deeper into the darkness, his team and I will be the beacon of hope in the depths of his despair. We will shoulder more than our fair share of the burden, whatever the task may be. This battle can’t be won alone.  

I have never felt so compelled to participate in an event like the D10, ever. Coincidently, my dad was a beneficiary of a foundation sponsored by Memorial Sloan Kettering very similar to the Pediatric Oncology Experimental Therapeutics Investigator’s Consortium (POETIC). I have witnessed first-hand the relief these types of fundraisers can provide to patients and families. It is the pleasant surprises during times of need that make life puzzlingly beautiful and it warms my heart to imagine that there were decathletes out there who directly helped my family.   The D10 is a community of distinctly different people brought together by our shared compassion and humanity. It has helped me realize that although the troubles we individuals face are unique, our pains are quite singular. I hope that these diseases will no longer continue to roam unchecked and our medical innovations can calm these unrelenting storms. In the interim, we decathletes, caretakers, patients, survivors, families, and friends can coalesce to provide those undeservingly affected with hope.  

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers - / That perches in the soul - / And sings the tune without the words - / And never stops – at all” - Emily Dickinson