The Grandest

After my last trip to the neurosurgeon’s office, things have been a little less bleak.

The surgeon I was referred for examination was not my original surgeon; in fact, he seems to be the exact opposite from my ultra conservative operating surgeon from back home. Still, the news was good and I have been cleared for way more physical activity than I imagined.

Although I must say, after my most recent examination, the new doctor lost a scosche of credibility after saying he would “start Peyton Manning.”

Nevertheless, I trust his judgment when he says I can do “whatever I want,” although that, again, seems overly carefree. I don’t know if I could take a roundhouse to the neck, but I may feel a little more comfortable playing volleyball and running, which I have been progressing back into.

In fact, I ran a mile this week for only the second time since my injury and did it under six-and-a-half minutes. Beat that, Usain Bolt.

Apparently, he already has.

But to achieve this mile high obstacle of a mile long finish is a great mental encourager. Living less like a patient helps to feel less like a patient, which is the best feeling in four long months.

From the beginning I knew the mental battle would end up taking precedent over the physical battle; my life-long struggles with anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder rarely make even small things issues seem unlike a catastrophic disaster.

Surely this is why I neurotically relate more with Peyton Manning than Usain Bolt. I’m not saying I’m the fastest man alive, but I’m also not saying I’m sidelined with a neck injury—at least anymore.

Being able to run, play basketball, volleyball and lift weights (not just Thera-Bands) has done more for me mentally than physically by an infinite degree.

The other end of the spectrum from me contains a man who suffered a much worse accident, fracturing two vertebras and significant spinal cord injury. It happened on the football field, and the man, Eric LeGrand, was left paralyzed from the neck down after making a tackle on the already NFL-concerned kick-off.

However, LeGrand never made it to the NFL. He went down while playing for Rutgers. But like I said, opposite from me, he only went down in one dimension—physically.

“I've had low moments, but I can probably count them on one hand,” is an attitude that is unshakable, an attitude I can’t relate to.

But LeGrand is living it. His progress is unbelievable and his character is undeniable.

And LeGrand holds no grudges.

He still backs the kick-off in football, even with the NFL making several new controversial adjustments to that part of the game for this very reason. He has become very close to the Army football team, whom of which he Rutgers was playing that day, and was even upset to hear of a broken collar bone suffered from the man on other end of the hit that ended his playing days.

Still enrolled and taking classes through Skype at Rutgers, LeGrand hasn’t let anything within his own control change.

LeGrand has shown me that there is another disparity between Peyton Manning and Usain Bolt.

The disparity is Eric LeGrand. The difference is a mental edge that of which I envy to the highest degree.

LeGrand’s mentality not only is a savior to himself, but those who also know his story.