I am so excited that Coach Eli is willing to share his Challenge today. I admire Eli so much. First because he coaches girl soccer. I would rather have a root canal. He is the dad to three incredible daughters. He is the dad you want your kid to have. One that balances being a dad with being a coach with being the soft place for his girls to land. Okay enough gushing.
My Challenge: Acting Like a Diabetic
Coaches are so stubborn. Or is it just me?
When both my soccer teams this season opened with winless records, I did as any other coach in my predicament would do.
I avoided the website with our standings like a kid dodges cauliflower.
That I didn’t see my teams in last place didn’t mean they weren’t there. Right?
So why do I act like if I don’t take a glucose reading when I’m supposed to … my blood sugar is under control? Especially when I’ve had three slices of pizza and a couple of graham crackers. And a shot of regular Cherry Coke in my Coke Zero.
Didn’t I do this to myself?
Type II diabetics get a bum rap. Diabetes.org reports guys like me and others with pigment are more likely to develop the disease. It’s often seen as a disease that we bring upon ourselves. Type I, called ‘childhood diabetes,’ is different. Those poor kids didn’t get it like we did.
By eating fatty ethnic foods. Living sedentary lives.
My life has been anything but sedentary. I’ve run two 5Ks, coached soccer for 11 years, and will squeeze a round of disc golf in every day, up to and including the day I die.
I am a foodie though. A foodie with an inner voice that claims animal crackers are healthy. That I should snag a burrito in the drive thru, because what if my glucose tanks? The voice talks me into worse decisions than Paris Hilton could.
So this is the part of this post I’ll stop being funny and making excuses.
The price of not getting it right
If I don’t get a handle on this, I will die. I will die early. I will miss my grandkids and college graduations. I won’t get to screen potential husbands for my three daughters.
If I don’t get a handle on this, I will have a stroke or a heart attack. It might be in front of my girls. It might be while I drive them to soccer matches. It might be at work, and they’ll have to call them out of class and into the office and they’ll find out dad will never come home.
They’ll grieve and suffer and then they’ll look into what killed their daddy.
They’ll find out type II diabetes is manageable.
They’ll wonder – why didn’t dad do it?
Why weren’t we important enough?
Why was there always a box of cookies in the car?
Why was it so easy to convince him to stop at the grocery store for little bags of chips and sports drinks and processed ‘fruit’ pies?
Why didn’t he care? And, will this happen to me?
I can’t live with that.
I told Kerri when she asked me to write this that I would in one take. Get it raw. I knew it would be that way. I knew that as well as I knew the well-intentioned charts and methods and promises would fail. I knew the way I did that despite nods and notes in my cute nutritionist’s office, this wouldn’t stick.
That last week I ordered a slice of pepperoni pizza after I couldn’t find hummus at work. Hey, I told the cook, if Jesus wanted me to have hummus and a whole-wheat pita, he’d have had some down here. The cook wiped his brow and pointed at the cooler with a spatula.
“What’s that right there?” he asked.
Yeah, it was funny.
But you know what?
This isn’t. This is real.
This is on the record. This is here for my kids to read. Just like the fun stuff, the answers I gave to their questions. Just like the stories of their soccer triumphs and hilarious moments. The provocative thoughts that drew readers back to their daddy’s blog to engage and be enlightened.
If I die early, they’ll have all that to look back on. And now, they’ll have this. The piece that didn’t fit.
Why didn’t dad try? We saw him do so much for us. Why not this?
It just won’t fit.
So, it’s up to me to make this most recent revelation of a method work for once. And stick to it. And not waver. Now, it’s here. And I can’t take it back. Now, I have to make it fit.
How will I know it fits?
In 40 years, when I’m almost 83 and the kids are grown. They’ll wonder why in the hell grandpa still blogs about fatherhood, grandfatherhood and coaching. Still with the coaching? Yep.
Coaches are so stubborn. Or is it just me?
When he isn’t hosting fantastic guest posts or answering his kids’ questions about bad sideline behavior, Eli Pacheco coaches two soccer teams and writes the blog Coach Daddy. Follow him on Google Plus, Pinterest and Twitter
Of course Coaches are stubborn. They deal with kids and mold them into champions. Not just on the field but in life. They are also stubborn enough to hold themselves accountable, something I preached to Eli! I know he loves his girls enough to make sure he is coaching his grandchildren at 83.
Thank you, Eli for being willing to be raw and to share your Challenge. It will make a difference in another’s life.
There is no cure for Type II Diabetes, there is only management through diet, exercise and medication. Too many people believe this is a punishment for a lifestyle choice. Which is beyond wrong. Type II Diabetes transcends race, ethnicity and income status. If left untreated, Type II Diabetes can lead to heart attack, stroke, kidney damage and other diseases.
To learn more about Diabetes please visit the American Diabetes Association.