During our Junior Year of high school, my high school buddy, who was limited when he could drive (longer story), asked me to take him to the Marine recruiter’s office; he had an appointment.
“What, I said disdainfully? Why would you want to go to the recruiters, you are a ‘pretty boy’ (and he was, although it was more of a thought than a statement), you went to Harvard for summer school, why would you consider the military; who does that?” no answer from him “OK – I’ll give you a ride, but don’t expect me to go in.”
So, we went in.
The recruiter was an impressively built, uniformed jar-head” and explained to Steve (I sat as far away as possible, just in earshot) the potential for a full-paid college scholarship and the possibility of flying helicopters or maybe if he was good enough, flying fighter jets. But then he caveated, “Before we can even talk to you about those possibilities, you must take this Marine entry exam?” Steve nodded like he fully understood.
Hey you…” he was pointing at me, “Why don’t you take the test as well?”
Well, “there I was – staring at my watch”, so what else do I have to do? “Sure, why not.”
So he sat us in the back room and pulled out the bubble sheets and two tests. There were some basic English word associations, grammar, and a set of rapid-fire “simple” math problems; which is all I remember today. I mean, we are talking “the Marines” … (please forgive me my future military compatriots – with a meek, but hallowed “Semper Fi”)
After we finished the test, the Marine recruiter sent us to the main room and went on to score it. He shouted for his buddy (recruiters always work with wingmen). They came out and made some phone calls and eventually approached us. I was already disgusted with the test. It was sixth-grade level – my arrogant self thought.
“Men, (we were not men) we can’t score these tests here in Littleton. You guys exceeded our chart. We need to take you downtown to finish the evaluation. It won’t take long, come with me.”
He stared at Steve, who got up to comply.
Hey, we weren’t in Denmark and this story was sounding fishy. I thought, if I get in that van, I’m not getting back here until I’m a Marine. I’m not sure what scoring system they are using downtown, but I’m sure it involves some type of physical and recruitment process that includes a signature and ultimately commits me to Marine-dom. No way, Jose!
“Steve, I’m not going. You can go, but you’ll have to get your own ride home.” (A classic teenage manipulation, I got car and you don’t) Steve looked at the Marine and narrowed his eyes a little. I saw the gears starting to turn in his head as well. The pieces were coming together. So…
We darted out of that office in quick action, out of the ole-Woodlawn shopping center. (As a side, years later, that office became a coffee shop, but I deviate) We high-fived our good luck and laughed at the issue. “Did he think we were stupid?”
And, we passed the Air Force recruiters office next door – windows ablaze with fighter planes posters. Nope, the military is not going to trick me into joining!.
But the recruiter did put those subliminal messages into my mind … “pay for school” … “serve my country” … “fly fighter jets” … “look swole in uniform and pick up chicks ” (Hey, I just had seen Officer and a Gentleman)
So – I went back to school, did my work, and unconsciously traped into my future. A future defined by a lack of intentions and a vision without inspiration.
Until a few months later that is…
It was a Christmas party during my Senior Year. I was bored – of course, I was bored, I was 17 and had an on switch and an off switch. I was trapped by this parental gathering and I was hanging out somewhere between the TV and the hor-devours. Yes, it was my Senior Year and my body had finally decided to up to my peers and was demanding a constant intake of food and food related substitutes; like Taco Bell mostly.
I was approached by some older man. I don’t remember what he looked like, but he looked bored too.
“Hey, what year of school are you in?” he surprised me but acknowledging my presence.
“Uh, I’m a Senior” – his eyebrows raised, probably wondering how someone so “let’s say delayed or perhaps short” could be a Senior.
“What are you doing when you graduate?” – he made conversation.
I looked around … “I’m going to college to be an engineer – a petroleum engineer – like my Dad.” I nonchalantly eek’d out.
“Is that what you want to do?” – he said with determination. He must have noted my lack of care. I think he just shook me awake.
“Uh, I don’t know, maybe,” I responded, and I felt blood gushing toward my brain, leaving my gut.
Then the line came, a line that changed my life – “If you could do anything, anything at all, what would you do?”
And, surprisingly, I blurted, “I would fly fighter jets in the Air Force.”
Before that moment, that dream did not exist. I’m not even sure where it came from. I loved building model airplanes and rockets and reading science fiction, but flying jets wasn’t even in my rubicon of possibility. You never know what someone will say that will change someone else’s life. But the next words out of his mouth changed mine…
He picked up his cracker, looked into my eyes, and said “Ok, why don’t you do that?” and then stuffed it into his mouth.
And I did…
But, the story doesn’t end there. I sent this story to my buddy Steve; who has had a very successful career. He informed me that I got an 87% recollection. I’m sure the pretty boy stuff cost me 13%; but I’m ok with that.
He informed me that he still tells the story as well. And, as serendipity goes, his 20-year-old son is now a Marine! Wow – those recruiters were pretty damn good! Semper Fi – Blake!
Key Decision – Deciding to Play the French Horn in Fourth Grade Key Belief – I wasn’t competitive in the mainstream; I needed to find a unique niche where I would achieve my own success Tags: Key Decisions, Limiting Beliefs, Ownership & Dependence, Memoir
Not me – but it could have been!
Yup – I can draw a line from playing the French Horn to flying jets in Europe.
The background begins with my mother. My mom is German. She was born and grew up in a traditional German home where classical music was considered “pop” just as lederhosen was considered chic. Growing up, I rarely heard any other music than that. Occasionally, on a family trip, we dad might squeeze in some Johnny Cash or perhaps John Denver; but mostly Ludwig Beethoven or Wolfgang Amadeus. So, in fourth grade, it was time to pick an instrument; and I was steered toward a more orchestral leaning, and the “French Horn” was picked.
While writing this, I asked my mom how this happened. She said when it was time to pick an instrument, I didn’t know what I wanted to play. She said a cousin in Germany was a famous French Horn player and maybe I’d want to do that… so I did (I guess)?!
Frankly, I don’t remember the choice; but I believe I participated in it and I consider it a “Key Decision” that influenced my extracurricular activities, it influenced how I was seen by others and most importantly, how I was seen by myself.
In that decision, I took on the persona of someone who chooses to be outside of the norm. My decision wasn’t the traditional, more expected orientation of my male peers to play drums or front-line brass (like a trumpet, trombone, or even saxophone) and certainly not the more classical expectations around woodwinds or strings. I found the French Horn to be in a unique niche; and I’ve continued to find success outside of the traditional, always looking for these niche opportunities. This cemented a belief that if I follow traditional strategies, I will end up average, normal or typical. I created a “key (or limiting) belief that the way to distinguish myself was to compete outside of what is expected.”
This thread can be pulled throughout my career and shows up in almost every key decision. And, as I am writing this, I realize this “key decision” of niche activity or “to rebel from the norm” resonates with me continuously.
I enjoyed playing “into” the French Horn as my personality, and was successful both in band and orchestra; being recognized and selected for Centennial (metro) and State Championships. My only high school “letter” came from playing the horn (adding insult to industry, it wasn’t the standard letter, it was a fluffy one ensuring it wouldn’t be confused with the Jock-oriented symbol. Similarly, I competed and was selected to tour Europe and compete internationally (third place worldwide) with another school’s orchestra.
But as I started to recognize this decision was not mine, I became dissatisfied. Who was I as a “French Horn Player?” The person I was (or wanted to be) did not play French Horn or play Piano but wanted to play team sports and compete physically.
However, because I was a late “bloomer,” in early high school I couldn’t compete in my age group. They were growing beards while I was growing up. So, in alignment with my niche strategy, I looked for alternative strategies. Luckily, my best friend (key-influencer) introduced me to Lacrosse in our Junior Year. Lacrosse in public high schools was a niche sport. At Littleton High School, the Hockey team played in the Lacrosse “Club” to stay fit off-season. We were not a school-sanctioned sport, so we played as a club and trained anywhere we could find an empty field.
I joined the club and ultimately was satisfied because I owned this decision. I continued playing in the band; but dumped the horn in my senior year and have never picked it up since. Do I regret this decision? Occasionally I think ingratitude of this decision, the orchestra, the travel, the recognition; but mainly acknowledging my mom’s kind heart to support me in her dreams.
But it wasn’t me, nor was it my true choice. A better choice was third-string middy and getting hit and beat up as a beginning Lacrosse player. It was a decision that I made on my own; and although my parents supported the decision, weren’t really connected to it. Stepping into my own influence allowed me to begin to own my future set forth my military adventure. Well, that is until choosing a college.
As we all think about 9-11, we also remember where we were when the country announced that they would be going into lockdown. As COVID was literally spreading across our globe in 2020, we had a previously planned ski trip with one of my wife’s siblings and her husband. Up until March 10th 2020, we shared a beautiful rented home with the family in Silverthorne, but then we moved our family over to a small apartment in Dillon as they were about to depart. While skiing with the group on a wonderful powder day in Vail, Colleen fell and her binding did not release, twisting her knee. After calling the Ski Patrol, they put her in a sled and brought her to the Vail hospital.
Because of the large influx of tourists, Eagle County (the location of Vail) was the epicenter of COVID-19s arrival in Colorado. As I walked into the Vail Emergency room, it was chaos, trying to deal with this unknown disease and the accompanying sick and anxiety-stricken patients while managing the normal influx of injured skiers.
Colleen was put in a private room, just off of the emergency room. After X-Rays and an MRI, we were informed she had torn her ACL, MCL, and both her meniscus in the left knee. Then she was asked to move into another location as an older patient was put in the private room, with a severe case of coughing and choking. We realized this private room was being used for potential COVID patients.
Few of the doctors were wearing masks. Colleen was released, with surgery scheduled for March 16th. That night, in the Condo, the NBA stopped playing basketball and we began the initial lockdown measures. The kids and I continued to ski while Colleen remained in the Condo with her injured knee.
Colleen was lucky. She received her surgery the day before the clinic closed for “voluntary” procedures. We returned to Denver, but then we both got sick. Colleen got very sick while and I was just on my ass. My health app showed my need for recovery (red) for the ensuing 12 days. Looking back, we believe, but can’t confirm, this was our first bout of the Virus. Colleen had lost taste, was feverish, and struggled. We didn’t get tested (I don’t think it was a viable option) and we both worked through it.
Colleen recovered from both the knee surgery and the sickness. A few months later, we received an early anti-body test and the results showed negative. In hindsight, it is possible and makes sense that Colleen had an early case of COVID.
Since my wife is a nurse, she is very sensitive and careful about and around COVID. To get an early vaccine, she joined an Astra-Zeneca (AZ) trial and received an unknown dose of vaccine in November 2020. When she received it, she was got home and was super angry because she didn’t have any reaction to the shot. She was complaining and frustrated and worried that she received the placebo. As I was talking to her on the couch, she started turning pale. I felt her forehead and she was burning hot. Clearly, she was impacted by the “placebo”. For the next 12 hours, she was feverish, literally hot and bothered … in the sick sort of way.
After the release of the other vaccines, eventually, AZ told Colleen she did receive the vaccine and not a placebo. Unfortunately, AZ didn’t get FDA approval and Colleen has been torn between dropping out of the trial and getting an approved vaccine or maintaining her research “integrity” with the trial. Eventually, AZ provided her with a vaccination card that would allow her to travel internationally and showed that she had been vaccinated with the actual vaccine.
Colleen then volunteered at her hospital to provide vaccine support. One day she called me and said they had drawn about 30 extra doses and I may have the opportunity to get a vaccine, so stand by. I stuck by the phone and when she called, she said I had 20 minutes to get to the hospital and I could get an extra vaccine. I sped to the hospital and arrived just in time. I received the Phizer vaccine in February 2021 and the second dose in March 2021. I was safe from the virus, so I thought.
Because of my wife’s somewhat undetermined vaccine efficacy and her natural nurse proclivity, we have been careful and cautious. I had less worries, believing the vaccine should protect me. I was aware that the vaccine doesn’t protect from catching the disease, but does reduce the potential impact. As a typical fighter pilot, I believe I am infallible. Therefore, I secretly believed that it would be impossible for me to actually get the virus.
Colleen and I haven’t eaten together inside a restaurant since she the lockdown. I may have cheated a few times, but didn’t act too risky. Regularly, we are one of the few that wore masks at church. A few weeks ago, at Mission Hills church, I was the only person in a room of about 500 to be wearing a mask.
When visiting San Antonio in September, we decided to go into a “dueling piano” bar. It was wall-to-wall people with no mask to be seen; so we didn’t stay. These experiences made me wonder if I was just being too conservative.
About two months ago, Colleen reminded me of her mom’s “Celebration of Life” in late October. Her mother had passed on May 1, 2020; and we could not attend the funeral. She asked me to be super careful because we would be staying with her 88-year-old father and he is somewhat immune-compromised. Of course, immediately Colleen was exposed at work to a co-worker who got COVID and ate lunch with her, outside. We were both worried but thankfully tested negative.
Because of our (her) heightened awareness, Colleen purchased 4 rapid test kits; and packed them in our bags for our trip to Massachusettes. We were picked up at the airport by Colleen’s sister and had a wonderful dinner on the “South Shore” at Restaraunt 42 LoLa, a reference to Boston’s Lattitude and Longitude. Again, based on our COVID focus, we sat outside at a cold 2-top (for three), facing the bay. A beautiful starlight dinner, great food and company.
And we were COVID safe until we weren’t.
Our first big event on Saturday was a wedding for Colleen’s cousin’s daughter. We took my father-in-law and booked a bed and breakfast in Manchester for the night. Once we arrived, we started getting ready for the event.
My wife was so excited about the wedding, which had been delayed a year because of the pandemic. We entered the country club and joined the other guests. Colleen immediately noted the large stack of “wedding” masks that were provided, yet none taken. We were ushered outside for the nuptials facing into a nice breeze; as we felt fully safe and comfortable on a large, sun-swept deck. The New Hampshire trees were in various levels of color; creating a perfect backdrop for this long-awaited day.
Upon the bride’s kiss, we returned into the country club and joined the line for drinks. After talking to various guests, we made our way to our seats. Typical eight-person rounds. We were lucky and sat at the bride’s family table. We enjoyed the introductions, dances, and a very good cut of prime rib. Soon we were dancing. Knowing relatively few of the guests, I sat on the outskirts, talked with six or seven in close quarters, and danced five or six songs with Colleen.
About 10:30, my father-in-law was ready and we said our goodbyes and returned to the B&B. My stomach was off. Tom rightly explained that Whiskey, Red and White wine don’t mix well; and my stomach agreed.
Starting at 2:00 am, I spend the rest of the night in the bathroom with “stomach” issues (Not exactly stomach, but close enough). By 8:00 am, my body was empty, and I slept the car ride back to Boston. I felt better on Sunday, but Colleen handed me one of our rapid COVID tests, which I took and tested “Negative.” We decided it must have been the bad salmon we ate last Wednesday.
I felt physically fine and played Tennis on Monday. As the week went on, my intestines were good enough to work out every day; ending the week with a high-intensity Crossfit session on Friday. On Wednesday, with my stomach feeling OK, I ordered the Fois Gras for dinner on Colleen’s birthday; which was immediately rejected in the bathroom. Yes, the chicken soup may have been a better option.
However, on Thursday morning, I felt a slight sore throat and an occasional dry cough. I thought it might be related to the “up-chuck” the night before and dismissed. On Friday, the pain continued, so before we picked up our boys from the airport, did another COVID test with a second “Negative” Response.
Feeling I might have a cold, but felt better that I did not have COVID, we picked up the boys and proceeded to Colleen’s sister’s house to stay.
The long-awaited event finally came. Colleen and I attended her mother’s celebration of life, a “Mass” at her church and accompanying lunch. Sixty-two family members attended, many of them in their 70s. Not feeling my best, I wore a mask for most of the event, but eventually took it off for lunch and sat with Colleen’s friends, and talked with a few family members. We worked our way back to her sister’s home and then I went flying with Meg, James, and our son Michael. Again, a spectacular twilight flight around Massachusetts. We returned home, had dinner and proceeded to the hot tub.
Upon walking outside, surprisingly, my body immediately “cold-soaked” and started shivering uncontrollably. Having taken daily cold showers for a few years, I was confused since the outdoor temperature was reasonable. I sat in the tub and tried to warm up. Later, when I got up, my body just shook for about 15 minutes. This may have been another clue?!
The next morning, my WHOOP (fitness device) noted a sleeping respiratory rate well outside of its normal range. I grabbed the third rapid test, which immediately showed a positive COVID 19 test. Although not surprised based on my symptoms, I was in disbelief that with my health and vaccine status, I could get infected. Whether my stomach issues were related, I do not know; but it probably increased my susceptibility to sickness.
I also then realized that I had exposed 62 of my wife’s family; and specifically, her sister, her sister’s husband, ] Michael and Ryan, and her immune compromised father to COVID.
We went to urgent care and doubled down confirmed I had COVID and luckily noted that Colleen did not. So, what next? We couldn’t fly home. We didn’t have anywhere to quarantine. So we quickly picked up our suitcases and started driving to Denver in the rental car. My selfless and saintly wife was stuck in a corner. Having been exposed to me she couldn’t return to stay with her family. But to drive with me almost guaranteed that she would get COVID, so we thought.
We took care of the boy’s travel logistics from the car and informed everyone of my positive. All of them kindly noted it was not my fault, but we could hear their trepidation and recognized the cascading impact on their individual lives. We also had Colleen’s sister post a note to the attendees of the Celebration of Life. So now, I am carrying the responsibility of a potentially devastating result with this large group of family elders.
As we drove, we tried to unravel the thread. My wife pointed to Crossfit (of course). I said maybe, but it didn’t really make sense. We considered the wedding, but my stomach illness happened immediately, so it didn’t add up.
The drive lasted almost three days and 2,250 miles (300 extra based on a few driving deviations), with three hotel rooms. In the car, we kept the fan blowing between us. I didn’t take off my mask except to eat (outside and in the cold). We slept in separate beds, separated by 10 feet, and a couple of stacked pillows. I learned to sleep with a mask. I felt well enough to drive, but Colleen carried most of the load. I had a continual headache and some brain fog. Luckily I maintained my taste, although my stomach remains choosy. For example, it chose cookies over salad; maybe it isn’t so sick.
Ultimately, we learned that the wedding was a spreading event. As of today, two others at my table have tested positive and two others are sick. Most of the wedding party has tested positive or is sick. Surprisingly, neither Colleen nor her father has been infected This is surprising since Colleen hasn’t had a booster and her AZ trial vaccine happened almost a year ago. Tom received a booster just a couple weeks before we arrived. Luckily, James and Meghan feel fine so far. Michael (our son) has tested negative.
We read the most recent Israeli study about “Breakthrough” cases (people like me who are fully vaccinated but still get COVID). In the very controlled study, they noted that all breakthrough cases were traced to “unvaccinated” people and no breakthrough case actually passed on the virus.
So far, this has run true with me. Although I don’t know who had the virus at the wedding, I do know that many of us were infected and many of us are breakthrough cases. I also don’t believe anyone that I directly interacted with has been infected so far (knock on wood).
And the lessons or the big reflections for me are how letting my guard down, being in a large inside group with no masks is risky behavior even while fully vaccinated. The vaccine has protected me and my sickness has been fairly mild (nobody likes to be a little sick). However, the vaccine (and good health) doesn’t necessarily protect you from getting infected.
And although you can’t control when your immune system will give in; you can control when you give in. And the impacts are bigger than just me.
I am simply a thread that connects someone spreading COVID to a whole range of others; all of whose lives are disrupted, many of which are beyond just inconvinienced. Already I am aware of the potential cost to my wife and her health; but also others with disrupted college attendance, a delayed surgery, impacts to work and financial cost, and risk and health impacts to a large group of compromised individuals attending the Celebration. All of these are based on my first degree interaction. If they are infected their will be a magnitude of cascading consequences all stemming from my individual thread.
If I had chosen to be “responsible” or recognize these potential impacts proactively, I could have worn a mask at the wedding, avoided the celebration of life, stayed home from flying, and wore a mask during family interactions. And, although I don’t think I acted inappropriately, I certainly experienced resistance in acting overly careful.
But, when I consider the act of exercising leadership, it means steping into resistance and recognizing and owning possible outcomes.
Frankly, I’m fine being the only person at a wedding wearing a mask. I’m fine pulling out of a family even while feeling bad (even if I’ve tested negative). I’m even fine not going flying when the opportunity is so exciting. Not worrying about the perception of others, I would have broken the “thread”, the thread that I would never have known existed.
But isn’t that what exercising leadership is about?
7 Nov 21 – Week Out Follow Up
On Friday, six days after testing positive, I was feeling pretty damn good and convinced that my COVID was gone. I had a slight headache and was a bit tired. Unfortunately, the rapid tested disagree and leaked out that second red line. Dagnabit! My wife took a PCR test and again tested negative.
So, I laid low through the weekend and retook the rapid test on Sunday (8 days from the initial positive) and tested negative. Hell-ya! Time to get back to work.
Monday – I did a big weightlifting workout and started with the deadlift, a reasonable 75% max with 5 reps and 4 sets. Felt pretty good, maybe a form slip with a rounded back. About 5 hours later, my back (QT) band started yelling at me. It was unhappy, but I wasn’t listening.
Tuesday – I ran a 4.5 mile run with 5 intermediate 10sec sprints. My sprints were as strong as ever. But when I got back, I noticed my heart rate was about 12 beats higher than my normal run at that speed. Maybe the device was screwed up?
Wednesday – I played morning Tennis and started sweating hard, very surprising for me. They must have been keeping the indoor courts a little warm.
Are you seeing the pattern of denial?!
Thursday – I did another big weight workout. I was strong, but quickly ran out of energy and had to lay down. Yes, I had to discover that post-COVID recovery can be difficult, and I am learning the hard way.
Some post-Covid symptoms; which can include back pain, breathing, and minor or significant heart inflammation, and others (these are mine). I went on a walk on Saturday, to see how I was feeling and my walk heart rate was equivalent to my normal run heart rate.
The side benefit was my fitness app gave me a thumbs up for such a good workout ( – it was just a walk).
Sunday (today for this update), I played Tennis just fine, and my heart rate was relatively normal. I took another walk with both my WHOOP heart rate monitor and a Polar H10 on separate devices. My WHOOP device still went crazy, but the Polar kept lower rates. I can’t fully confirm but believe I am still off my aerobic capacity.
Yes, I am a little frightened. Significant post-COVID symptoms could include myocardius; which is an inflammation of the heart. That scares the hell out of me. My doctor and others (namely my nurse-wife) have emphasized that this is a time for rest and recovery. I took them to “heart” and slept 10 hours last night and threw in a couple of naps. In Colorado, we only have 100 ICU beds open right now; and all of a sudden, not knowing the real status of my lungs and heart and possibly worsening inflammation, I could be in trouble.
One year ago in October, I restarted my weight lifting after taking 5 months off during the lockdown. After a year of dedicated lifting, I felt awesome. The idea of a setback is frustrating; but allowing my aerobic system to worsen is obviously … worse.
I think of the 7 Habits of Highly Effective Leaders and remember the Circle of Influence and the Circle of Concern. My focus needs to be to control that which I can influence. What I can do is take care of myself, allow myself to recover appropriately, eat healthily, take my anti-inflammation supplements, and don’t create anxiety about something that is out of my control.
