 John Ball |
 Accepting the award |
Acceptance Speech
John Ball: Thank you so much for allowing me to be the first to receive this award. Admiral Byrd was a childhood hero of mine, along with Edmond Hillary, Chuck Yeager and Roger Bannister, because they were each out there on the edge of the known world, and willing to take that next step into unknown territory.My childhood dreams included such unrealistic goals as qualifying for the Olympic track team, being the first to solo Mt. Everest, and becoming a rocket-jockey to the outer planets. I think those dreams solidified somewhere around the eighth or ninth grade. Okay, so I didn’t make the Olympic team. In fact, I didn’t even make the travelling squad on the track team at the University of Washington. I did finally earn my varsity letter sweater in my senior year, and got to wear it on campus for one day, the day before I graduated. It was the hottest day of the year, but I was not about to take it off. And I haven’t soloed Everest. But, I have climbed a half dozen “14 thousand footers” and I’ve learned enough to know that trying to solo Everest would be a very bad idea. Finally, I haven’t piloted any rocket-powered probes into deep space, even after flying for the US Navy, landing on carriers, and trying to earn a living as a flight instructor. But then, I haven’t noticed anyone else getting beyond near-earth orbit for quite some time.
Those childhood dreams were based on the assumption not just that anything was possible, but that everything was possible. Experience has taught me that anything may still be possible, but not necessarily for me. I mean, a guy my age, Brian Binnie, did recently achieve astronaut status when he took Burt Rutan’s Spaceship One up over 69 miles. But with Parkinson’s, I don’t think I would put myself in that seat, even if it were offered. But I do honestly believe that our lives can still move forward. We can still make plans and set new goals. Just because I have Parkinson’s or just because my 401K has tanked, or just because I turned 65 a couple of months ago, doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my dreams. It does mean I should think about rescaling them in light of today’s realities. What I mean is that when the scales of life are out of balance and the challenges outweigh the dreams 2 or 3 to 1, we have three options. We can try to reduce our challenges. We can try to strengthen our dreams. Or we can shift the fulcrum. As for me? I’ll grab a bigger lever every time.
Running has been the lever that moved me from a guy just trying to get through life, facing the challenges of PD, to an advocate for this community. As an advocate, I’ve gone to Washington, DC every year for over a decade to participate in the Parkinson’s Action Network as it calls on Congress to lobby for more resources to be applied toward finding a cure for this disease. Every spring we’ve gathered to get the latest reports on research from the National Institutes of Health and determine where the research dollars ought to go in order to get the biggest bang for our public bucks. Until the 1990s, there was no sense of community among Parkie patients, and it took special people like Joan Samuelson, Michael J. Fox, and Muhammad Ali to raise awareness of the impact Parkinson’s has not only on those who suffer from it, but on their families and the surrounding communities. PAN has given us a voice and I want mine to be heard “five by five.” My personal message is that we must each take charge of our lives, regardless of the challenges we face, and do all that we can that lies under our own control. I figured the best thing I could do with a movement disorder is get on the move and stay there, with the throttle nailed to the firewall.
I ran my first 5k just a few weeks after my diagnosis in 1983. A few months later I ran my first half-marathon, and 13 years later, at the age of 51, I ran my first marathon in 4 hours, and 29 seconds..
This May I ran my 14th consecutive LA Marathon, my 21stth marathon overall. In July I ran my 22nd in San Francisco, in a time of 4:46:15. So, I can honestly say that I’ve added just two minutes per-mile on my pace over the last 15 years. Why do I spend so much energy on physical challenges like running, bicycling or golf when I know that I’ll never be competitive because I have PD?
Well, I’m not competing with the others in the race. I’m competing with the Parkinson’s that would change who I am. The competitors I face each day are sloth, inertia, pain and depression. They are the four horsemen of my Apocalypse. Their goal is to drag me down with ease and comfort, with safety and self-satisfaction. I believe we were designed to work hard and take risks; to challenge ourselves and to keep growing at all costs. I’m only alive if I’m still learning.
When I’m not busy with Parkinson’s activities, I’m in the workshop, trying to make furniture, and turn wood on my lathe. Believe me, these are skills I’m learning now. I’m still learning how to work with my tools, and trying to learn what the wood can give me. I’ll take a rough chunk of tree – root, trunk or branch - and try to shape it into something useful or beautiful. In the same way, I hope to shape my life into something useful. My goal is to live my life to the fullest while trying to make it meaningful to others: balancing the duties with the pleasures that define a life well-lived. I may not make it to the outer planets or the top of Everest, but there are plenty of smaller mountains left to climb. As I’ve told friends over the years, I view PD as an inconvenience in my life. When it interferes with something I like or something I do, I choose a new activity or direction to maintain my intellectual and emotional balance. What we need is to get our lives back in balance – balancing our inward needs with our outward responsibilities. To do that we must take care of ourselves first in order to be strong enough to take care of others in our families and in our communities. Because, at the end of the day, I’m not going to be judged by what Parkinson’s did to me, but rather by what I did for the world.
Tomorrow morning I’m running a half-marathon in Long Beach with some Parkie friends, and later this year - if all goes well – I’ll be running my first official Ultra-marathon, a 50K race in Ridgecrest. This party tonight is a kick-off for an even greater challenge. Andrea and Bob and many of you are embarking on an ambitious quest to recover a piece of aviation history. I applaud all of you who are taking interest in the project. And I relish the idea that it can also benefit the Parkinson’s community.
Now there’s only one thing left to say, “Let’s go get that Fokker.”
