#als warrior

ALS warrior, NFL coach& player, author, husband, advocate for ALS patients, believer, motivational speaker.

It is 6 a.m., and I have been up all night. Not because I could not sleep.

It is 6 a.m., and I have been up all night.

Not because I could not sleep.

Because watching Chris Johnson’s interview with his wife, Brittany, made me relive my diagnosis all over again.

As Chris spoke, I was not just hearing his story. I was being dragged back into mine. Before the doctors. Before the name ALS. Before the wheelchair, trach, ventilator, feeding tube, and all the machines that now help keep me here.

I remembered the weight room.

A place where I had built my life. A place where I had trained men to be strong, pushed athletes beyond what they thought they could do, and lived with iron in my hands and confidence in my chest.

Then one day, I was working with the warmup bar, and I could not lift it.

The warmup bar.

Before I could stop it, that bar landed on my chest. I lay there stunned, confused, and embarrassed. But underneath all that was something much deeper.

Fear.

I remember thinking, What is happening to me?

Then I remembered the barbecue Tanja and I were hosting. I was carrying a pan of chicken for about twenty guests. Now you have to understand, this did not happen to me. I had fed hundreds of people at my tailgate parties. Feeding folks was nothing. Carrying food was nothing. Hosting was nothing.

But my grip failed.

That whole pan of chicken hit the ground.

And I was terrified.

Not because I dropped meat. Not because twenty people were waiting to eat. I was terrified because something inside me knew this was not normal. My body was sending warnings I did not yet understand.

Then there were the nights I woke up gasping, thinking I was having a heart attack because I could not breathe. That kind of fear does not leave you. It hides in the back of your mind until something brings it back to the surface.

Last night, Chris brought it all back.

I could see the fear in his eyes. I could see the pain in Brittany’s eyes. I could feel the unknown sitting in that room with them. And because Chris is a former running back, it hit me even harder. Different teams. Different journeys. Same position. Same kind of body that once knew power, speed, and toughness. Now facing something no athlete can outwork.

I have received over a hundred texts and emails about the interview. Thank you. I know people meant well.

But I watched it live.

And I have been trying to fight my way out of this darkness ever since.

My heart hurts for Chris. It hurts for Brittany. It hurts for their children, who are much younger than mine. I know the road they are staring down, and I would not wish that fear on anybody.

Tonight reminded me that ALS does not just attack the body.

Sometimes it makes you grieve the diagnosis all over again.

darkness ever since. My heart hurts for Chris. It hurts for Brittany. It hurts for their children, who are much younger than mine. I know the road they are staring down, and I would not wish that fear on anybody. Tonight reminded me that ALS does not just attack the body. Sometimes it makes you grieve the diagnosis all over again.