THANKFUL FOR COOP AND JPM

Family, friends, health, a good job - I have a lot to be thankful for. However, during this
holiday season, I'm especially thankful for two people who recently passed away:
Jason Cooper and John Martin. They were two special human beings who touched a lot of
lives and a made the world a better place with their kindness, friendship, and ability to get
along with, and make others feel welcome, no matter the walk of life they came from.

Cooper, 52, and Martin, 50, died within three months of each other. Cooper, who was
raised in New Canaan, CT., had a massive heart attack while Martin passed away after a
two-year battle with ALS. They were both universally loved for their character and respected
for their great talent in their respective vocations.

Cooper was a modern day Paul Bunyan -  a mountain of a man who was country
boy strong. At 6'4, 250lbs, he could get out of bed, put 315 pounds on the bench, and easily
dial up 10 reps and say, "What else you got?" He was an extraordinarily gifted athlete with a
resume that included being a four-year starter as a tight end at Duke University AND being
an impact player on the lacrosse team. In this day and age, the millennials call that
"a major stud."

As great an athlete as Cooper was, he was a better person. And that's not hyperbole or cliché.
A former football teammate of mine at New Canaan High School, Cooper was humble, gracious,
and always interested in the well-being of others. And he was a magnet - attracting everyone
within his area code and beyond. If anyone ever had a reason to brag and say, "Well, I did
this...", it was Coop. The football gods seemingly poured him into a uniform and said,
"This is what an athlete should look like." But Cooper, who came home from Chicago to
coach high school football after a long career in finance, never bragged or talked about
himself - ever.He'd rather ask  about others and see how they were doing than wax poetic
about his accomplishments.  It's one of things that made Jason Cooper great.

Martin, who worked as a videographer at NESN covering the Boston sports landscape, was
talented as well, garnering five Emmy-awards for his work documenting the Red Sox,
Bruins, Patriots, and Celtics. We worked together for two years, traveling the country
covering the Patriots and their dynasty. There were plenty of laugh-out-loud moments
and memories to last a lifetime. Martin's lifetime was far too short, but he squeezed more
into it than most people could only dream of doing.

Martin, like Cooper, didn't have a circle of friends - he had a magnificent cavalry.
EVERYBODY loved Martin. You'd have to search far and wide to find someone to say
something bad about him - and if you did, rest assured, they'd be lying. In the
petty, jealous, and backstabbing world of television, JPM, as he was known by his friends,
had the uncanny ability to get along with everybody. Martin had such a great way about
him - always friendly and always genuinely caring about the lives of others. He had the
special gift of making you feel like he was your best friend - even if that was far from
being the case. JPM was simply amazing and you could say he had a million "best friends."

I am thankful for the lessons Martin gave us not only in the art of friendship, but during
his battle with ALS. There are terrible diseases, then there is ALS. It is brutal. It is vicious
It is unfair. JPM didn't deserve it. Nobody does. But he battled courageously and never gave
in to the disease. He wrote not one, but two books - the second focusing on his fight against
a disease that has never lost. During the darkest of days, Martin's flashed a smile that
could light up the entire city of Boston. He was a true warrior,  but more importantly, a
true friend to so many people.

Life moves too fast these days and we always seem to be in a hurry to move on from
things. We often obsess over trivial stuff and don't appreciate gifts that are truly important.
I will always appreciate and be thankful for the friendship of Coop and JPM and the lessons
they taught us. I won't soon forget about it and I don't think their large cavalry of friends will ever forget about it, either.

ABOUT THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON...

Five boroughs. 26.2 miles. 52,000 runners. That is the New York City Marathon - at least
by the numbers. But the race around the world's greatest city is about much more than just
stats - which is what we seemingly measure everything by in sports these days. Sports has
become an analytic-driven landscape drowning with superfluous numbers, launch angles,
spin rates, and just about anything else spit out by an algorithm.

You can clock the time it takes you to finish a marathon, but there aren't any metrics that
can accurately measure the energy, heart, adrenaline, sweat, pain, exhaustion, and elation
from a journey that starts in Staten Island and finishes in Central Park, one of the best
pieces of real estate this country has ever seen.

Of all the marathons in the world, the start to the New York City Marathon has to be the
greatest of them all. It begins with the Verrazzano Bridge staring you in the face. It's a
spectacular double-decked suspension bridge that just towers over the field, making everyone
seem so remarkably small. And how many times do you get to run over  a bridge with 50,000
other people with a crystal-clear line of sight to the soul of New York City?  It is truly
breathtaking.

So, of course, in this social media obsessed world we live in, a scene like that has to be
documented. As I ran to the crest of the bridge, I started to laugh out loud. About 40 people
formed a line on the near four-foot high wall separating the lanes of the bridge - all of them
taking selfies. And they were loving it. I think the only reason many of them entered the
race was just to get that 'money' shot so they could post it on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

I chose not to scale the divider, my 54 years on earth telling me it was a bad idea - a pulled
muscle or turned ankle wouldn't help in trying to finish a race that had barely even started.
However, I did snap a selfie just to capture the moment.

The moment didn't last long - not with 26 miles ahead of me. Having received an entry
on August 20th,  I was a bit undertrained for the endurance event. Trying to
stuff a lot of miles in a 10-week period wasn't ideal and I paid for it with injuries to
my calf and knee. But I did get to the starting line healthy and that is the most important
thing. I relied on my experience of running this event five years earlier and the energy
boost from the people who lined the streets cheering the runners on. It seemed like every
inch of the course was soaked with a crowd that was ten people deep. It was deafening and
electric. You couldn't help but be energized by it.

The things you see and hear during the NYC Marathon can stick with you for a long time.
I came upon a few blind runners with guides leading them the entire way. With
my eyes and mind firmly focused on what was in front of me, there were times I'd
hear a unique sound pounding the pavement only to look up and see carbon-fiber blades
attached to an amputee working his way to completing his goal - the picture of courage
and the resiliency few of us will ever possess.

My plan going into the marathon was just to soak up the entire experience - even the
mind-numbing pain that goes with trying to complete the race. I've done five Ironman
events, so I've become quite familiar with everything that goes with something like this.
As I went through Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Manhattan, I was thoroughly focused
but had a mile-wide grin washed across my face. This was truly awesome as it was a
celebration of many things in my life.

I was thankful for just being able to run the race. I've put a lot of miles on this 54-year-old
body over the years and know how fortunate I am to be healthy enough to do it. People asked me
why I was running such a race. Why do you want to endure so much pain? My answer was
simple: why the hell not? The New York City Marathon is so big and just so special. To be
part of something that is way bigger than you is an adrenaline rush that few people get the
chance to experience.

I was not only running for myself, but in honor of John Martin, who passed away just three
weeks before the race. We worked together for two years at NESN, covering the Boston sports landscape together. He was a really, really special person who affected a lot of lives, mine
included. Martin showed the heart of lion while he battled ALS, showing tremendous courage fighting a disease that never loses. I created merchandise to help raise money for the family and
to help tell the story of this great man. I was proud to wear the Café Martin brand on my journey
through New York City. I was inspired by John and the people who screamed, "Café Martin!
Café Martin!",  pushed me along the way.

I reached the halfway point at 1:59 and felt good about the pace that I was on before losing
some steam. There were a few internal battles during the last five miles of the race. My body
wanted to stop but my mind said keep on going. I read many posts on social media from runners
who didn't achieve their goal of establishing a new personal record. There were lame excuses
and insufferable complaints. Sadly, many of them missed out on the big picture, choosing
instead to focus on their time of the race rather than the time they had in the race

I have no excuses and no regrets. This race was a celebration of life and everything good
about it. A 26.2 mile race on a drop-dead gorgeous kind of day in the greatest, most electric
city in the world is forever etched in my mind, heart, and soul.

I finished in 4:21 which is just another number that will be attached to my name on the Internet
forever. It's kind of like the age that follows a name in an obituary, though. It only indicates
how long someone lived, but says nothing about their journey through life.

My journey in the 2018 New York City Marathon was simply awesome and something I will
never forget. Ever.

ONE DAY FOR VETERANS IS NOT ENOUGH

The nation honors all those who served our country fighting wars with their own special

day. We pay tribute to the men and woman who put their lives on the line against faceless

enemies in countries far, far away. There will be a few parades and a lot of pictures

flooding Facebook of the American flag and our heroes who did so much for us. They

helped attain what we all enjoy today: freedom.

It's not enough.

For all the bravery, courage, determination, and sacrifice these veterans made, giving

them a day pales in comparison to what they truly deserve. And how our government

treats them is downright right embarrassing.

A 'thank you' will not do.

These men and woman leave the comforts of their home and the love of their families to

spill blood and sweat on foreign soil. What they return to is almost beyond comprehension.

Soldiers who had limbs blown off, their spirits shaken, and in many cases, their psyche

shattered forever, often have to wait long periods of time to get the benefits they earned

and the professional help they desperately need.

Instead of letting them go to the front of the line and take care of them immediately,

our government sometimes doesn't take care of them at all. Our presidents may give

them a pat on the back or weave together a few words of praise, but when the cameras

are off it becomes something barely more than a, "hey, good job, thanks for playing."

According to CNN, the average wait for those who served in Iraq and Afghanistan to

get their benefits is between 316 and 327 days. Almost a year!  That's absurd. All

the money the government spends keeping Guantanamo Bay open for terrorist

prisoners ($450 million a year) would be better served taking care of our own instead

of all the ones who tried to destroy our country.

Sadly, it seems a good majority of our country has more compassion for immigrants

trying to get into the United States illegally, than the men and women who actually fought

to protect it.

After the soldiers return home, turn in their weapons while trying to tune out the

horrors of wars, there is little waiting for them in terms of a career. They don't have

jobs waiting for them or counseling provided by the government to at least

help them find one.

A few corporations like Wal-Mart have pledged to hire up to a 100,000 veterans, but

it's not enough and the government should be doing a lot more. They ask soldiers

to make tremendous sacrifices, fight for our country, put their lives on the line, and

they don't have their backs when they return home.

Professional sports teams produce special Army fatigue uniforms which they wear

and sell for a nifty profit. The message is a great one: support our troops and veterans.

But what do they actually do for them? They, along with their families, should never

have to pay for parking, concessions, and tickets to the game. That should mandated

across the board by our government

According to a report in the New York Times, there are 22 suicides among veterans

every day. Yes, every day! One is too many. 22 is a terrible tragedy that can be

prevented. These men and woman need help. Sure, you trying going to war for

three years and have to kill or be killed. Is your job that stressful? I think not. These

soldiers have to come home, decompress, and then blend into society as if

nothing happened.

It's silly, absurd, and doesn't really make any sense. The government's motto should

be: "We take care of all those who take care of us." That's how it should

be, no questions asked.

Too bad it all can't be that simple. With our government nothing ever is.