Tuesday, March 11, 2025 - Day 210

Tuesday, March 11, 2025

Good morning, everyone.

It’s another Tax Tuesday, which means I expect to see Jim, my new client from last Thursday, back to finish his return. I’ve thought about him often since we met—maybe too often. A small, irrational part of me worries that his congenital heart failure might have taken him. But then I shake that off and remind myself—he’s got the spirit of a “Fighting Irish” warrior. ☘️ He’ll be there, bright and early, with his wife, ready to tackle the numbers once again. I’m looking forward to seeing him. There was something about our conversation, something familiar—maybe it was that stubborn refusal to let life tell you when you’re done.

Yesterday, I met up with my retired colleagues at Docks Bar and Grill, where we had the deck all to ourselves. It was a perfect mid-60s day, the sun was bright and warm ☀️, and two hours later, my face was proof that SPF was, once again, not on my agenda.

The warmth on my skin felt incredible. These gatherings are a little harder without Cindy, though. She helps to fill some parts of my conversation and when it’s me alone, the weight of speaking is entirely on me. I work to slow down, hit all the syllables, but sometimes, it feels like my tongue and lips are in a canoe with the sternman and bowman paddling in opposite directions. Everything sounds perfect in my head, but the words I actually hear are not exactly the same…which leads to, “what?” more often than I care. I’ll keep trying.

On my way to the restaurant, I saw golfers 🏌️🏌️‍♀️out on the course, and on my drive home, I saw even more. That got me thinking… in a few weeks, maybe Tim and I can attempt nine holes. He doesn’t know it yet, but I suspect he’ll end up being my personal forecaddie—tracking my ball, teeing it up, maybe even taking on some of the more technical aspects of the game, like fixing ball marks. Let’s be honest, I wasn’t great at that in the fall, and it’s not looking promising now. Of course, this all assumes I can still get the ball up in the air and land it on the green. Minor details. Still… I want to try. The comedy of playing golf with ALS practically writes itself, but if I can still swing a club and laugh about it, I’ll call that a win.

Over the weekend, we made the tough decision to let go of our Alaskan cruise 🚢 . This was one of Cindy’s big bucket-list trips, part of her seven adventures to celebrate turning 70. Alaska is a once-in-a-lifetime journey, but I know, deep down, that it would have been too much—physically exhausting, mentally frustrating. And if I don’t trust myself to respect my own limits, that trip could have taken more from me than it would give back. Sure, we could do this trip with me in a wheelchair, but I’m not ready to accept that stage…not yet anyway. Maybe I never will be ready to accept the wheelchair ♿️ . But, as ALS keeps reminding me, this isn’t a negotiation.

Last night, Nicole sent me a screenshot from the ALS United fundraising page—Andy’s Army had a new recruit. Her friend Michael, an Ironman (and not just the kind who wears a fancy Superman costume), has taken Nicole under his wing as she trains for the Chicago Marathon. Watch out, Alex—Nicole is strategizing ways to overcome your long legs and testosterone. Michael may be the secret weapon. But beyond the training, Michael was moved by my ALS diagnosis and joined Andy’s Army to help support the fight. Thank you, Michael for forgoing the Marine Corp marathon. (It’s a great marathon). Your kindness, your strength, and your willingness to stand with us mean the world to me.

Every day, I feel the power of the people behind me—the love, the support, the unshakable force that lifts me up and keeps me going. I couldn’t do this alone and every day a few more join the fight and keep pushing me forward. 🙏

Wishing you all a great day.

Love you guys! ❤️