“Don’t stop, don’t quit. Finish the round for Caleb. He would give anything to be in this cage trading shots right now. Just to be able to throw a punch,” or sometimes “one more rep, one more set, do it because he can’t”. These thoughts run through my mind quite often, it has become my mental motivation. A very important time in my life that changed who I am today, was a man I look up to being diagnosed with ALS.  This man’s name was Caleb, and he was an important influence on my life during my younger years. The earliest memories I have of Caleb are from the soccer games he played with my mom. He was always at the soccer arena, it didn’t matter what day of the week or time of day, he was always there playing. I remember him taking me out for food between games, and talking to me about life the entire way. I was probably 12 or 13 at the time, but these talks were important to me. He would ask me about school and whatever junior high relationship I had going, and give me advice wherever I needed it. I’ve never had a father figure in my life, so this advice from a much older male influenced me a lot. He gave me advice on how to treat a woman when I grew up, and how to be kind to everyone because you never know who they will grow up to be. Caleb taught me to show respect always and to try and see things from other people’s perspectives (this usually came in when I was complaining about my mom). We even talked about old classic cars, and we had plans to restore an old school together. That all changed when he was diagnosed with ALS. At the time of his initial diagnosis, I didn’t really comprehend what it all meant. ALS is most common in ages 40-70, so him being a young, healthy and physically active man in his 20’s and being diagnosed caught everyone off guard. Caleb was known for being the rowdiest and most active player on the field in every game. What would this diagnosis mean? First, it meant he was in the stands with me instead of out on the field running nonstop. Next, he limped his way through the arena. This was the first I saw of his symptoms showing and it was hard to see him this way. A couple weeks later, he used a cane to support his off balanced gait. After this time, I didn’t see Caleb for a couple of months, it may have been the end of a soccer season or he may have just not been around because of his sickness. But the next time I saw him he was in a wheelchair, and I was so caught off guard. Me and my Mother were at the house of someone from her soccer team, for a labor day cookout. Everyone was having a good time, eating burgers and playing corn hole. I went into the house for another plate of food when I saw Caleb being rolled in by one of his friends. I approached him and let off some remark like “hey long time no see”, and outstretched my hand to shake his hand. He looked me in my eyes and said “hey buddy” but couldn’t return the gesture of a handshake. He lifted his arm so I could give him a subtle “fist-bump”, but it really hurt on the inside to see the man I had looked up to for so long not be able to shake my hand.  From that point on, I thought of Caleb a lot more. I reminisced on the times I had with him taking me out for food and the advice he gave me on being a man. I thought of how unfair it was for him to be going through this. At this point in time I had been kickboxing for about a year, and Caleb became my mental motivation. I would sit in my car for 5-10 minutes before walking into the gym and think about the shape Caleb was in. I would sit and wonder if Caleb had regrets about not being more active when he was my age, or if he missed being able to be physically active. Who wouldn’t? I would set it in my mind that tonight, I was training for Caleb. I would put all of my heart into that couple of hours because I was doing enough for me and for Caleb. Every round I thought I was tired and wanted to stop or slow down, he would come to mind and there was no way I was stopping. When my shoulders would get tired and my hands wanted to drop below my chin, I would remember that Caleb would give anything to be in there trading punches. Next thing I knew I was punching with everything I had for an entire 3-minute round; stopping or slowing down was not an option. Also, after training was over and I was exhausted, I would think of Caleb on my drive home. I would remember him streaking across the soccer field and then remember him in the wheelchair unable to shake my hand. After thinking of this during my drive, as soon as I got home I laced up my running shoes and hit my 3-mile route around the neighborhood. I didn’t care that my calves were sore or my gut hurt, I wanted to be sure I was getting everything I had out of me and I was doing enough work that Caleb would be proud of. I will always carry him with me in one way or another, whether it’s in the gym, in the classroom, or in my everyday choices.  Finally, Caleb’s diagnosis with ALS changed my outlook on life. Seeing him go from such a healthy man to the complete opposite so fast, really increased my appreciation for the life I’ve been given. Also, this experience made me realize the importance of physical health and taking care of your body. Being able to perform athletic abilities, or even compete in sports is such an important blessing that we often look over without thinking of what life would be like if it was taken away. I also learned that showing appreciation for the people in your life is important, because everyone deserves to know the role they played in influencing your life. You should always make sure the people you love know that you love them, because tomorrow is never promised for anyone. The last lesson I learned, and probably the hardest to comprehend, is that bad things happen to good people sometimes.  In conclusion, Caleb’s diagnosis was an event that made major changes in my behavior and outlook on life. I often look back on how he influenced me as a young kid, and now the way he affects me as a young adult. First he taught me how to live life, and now he’s teaching me to appreciate it.  Caleb will always live through me.    

Written by Jeff Trimble