My uncle, Kirk Watson, died of colon cancer on June 11, 2020; he was 45 years old. Not everyone prefers to use “fight” terminology when it comes to cancer, but in my uncle Kirk’s case, he would say himself that he fought with everything he had, sometimes even in spite of medical advice to the contrary. He made all sorts of plans for the future, renovated his house as only a construction manager could, entered and left hospice several times, and made a point to come home for Christmas. To him, the best way to stay alive was to keep striving, to exhaust every treatment option available while obsessively trying to accomplish everything he wanted to get done. In the spring, Kirk sent me a pair of running shoes for my birthday. They were blue, like the Florida waters he loved to navigate whenever he got the chance.
In 2020, it seems as if striving looked a bit different for everyone. For those who work in healthcare and other front-line occupations, COVID-19 brought about striving not quite like anything in recent history as they spent long hours fighting an invisible, lethal, and incompletely known enemy. Others found themselves quarantining at home for much of the year, in a sense striving to prevent the outcome of increased COVID-19 spread, but without the mental benefit of actively doing something to help or the social dividends that come from working on a team. Many people have truly suffered as they have said goodbye to loved ones from afar, struggled with unexpected challenges of all kinds, and grappled with repeated injustices in the world at large.
My 2020 story is not by any means one of the most extreme in these regards, but it does fit the paradigm of “striving differently” in this very challenging year. Though outwardly staying home made life simpler, for me it was a sacrifice. To me, striving for my best in medical school used to mean being in the library early whenever I could, attending lecture as much as possible, and using something as simple as the location I was sitting in as a “memory hook” to help me remember what I had learned that day. Confined to my desk and the kitchen table, watching lectures streamed to a laptop, I had to find new ways to strive for excellence in medical school. During a year in which coping mechanisms were stretched to their limits, I lost one of my most treasured stress relievers as not one, but two stress fractures kept me from running for more months out of the year than I care to recount. This November, my wife and I welcomed our first child, a daughter, and while she is an incredible blessing and we both love her dearly, learning how to be a parent certainly presents its own unique challenges. It’s not as if medical students are known for being well-rested individuals under normal circumstances.
In 2020, it seems as if striving looked a bit different for everyone.
However, as this year comes to a close, I cannot help but reflect on how thankful I am for the life I have been allowed to live, especially as so many have had their lives cut short by COVID-19 and other tragic causes. In many ways, modern culture encourages a constant striving to get ahead, leaving little time to be still, reflect, and find contentment, especially in the midst of new challenges. I know I have absorbed that “always strive for more” mentality, both as a student and as an ex-college athlete. Without a doubt, striving to accomplish a worthy goal is an honorable thing, but as 2020 has highlighted, the manner of striving for these goals has changed, irreversibly in some cases. Sometimes, taking your foot off the gas and staying home is the best thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Regardless of how striving has had to change over time and doubtless will continue to change, I know that many people spend their whole lives striving and do not have the privilege of seeing some of their most prized goals accomplished. I am immeasurably grateful for having had the opportunity to realize the dreams of running on scholarship in college, of attending medical school, and of becoming a parent. As I look with hope toward the future, I know that striving will be different now. After a hard year, lacing up this new pair of shoes my uncle left behind means honoring those who have gone before and celebrating the new life that is ahead, pressing onward to the next chapter of this narrative and helping others add a few lines of their own. In the end, it’s not about what I will accomplish in these shoes, but I cannot wait to find out what my daughter will accomplish in hers (once she grows into them, of course). Collectively, we have all walked through a lot this year, but this story is far from over.