Kevin was 33 years old when he passed away, about 10 days short of his 34th birthday.
My brother was a lot of things: an athlete, a soldier, a leader, a son, a person with CTE.
We were about 13 years apart in age, so we never really got to spend a whole lot of time together, learning from each other, or growing in our relationship as brothers. When I was a little kid, he was the too cool older brother finishing up high school and eventually joining the Army National Guard.
By the time he needed a brother, following his third tour of duty in the Middle East and some significant medical challenges, I was my own version of a too cool high school kid to hang out with my older brother. We missed a lot of time together because of those two mindsets.
One thing that we did have though was fitness. He was training for an Ironman and trying to run away from the demons lurking inside his mind. I was just trying to stay fit enough to not embarrass myself in hockey and baseball. Two guys burning the midnight oil at Anytime Fitness on the weekends. One with an impressive and dynamic goal. The other just trying to keep up. It wasn’t pretty, but we showed up together, got a good sweat in, and went our separate ways each week.
The training brought us together. Connection was what he needed most after he was discharged from the service.
I wish Kevin had found CrossFit. Not because CrossFit is magic, but because what it gave me more than anything else wasn’t a PR or a better back squat. It was people. A room full of them, showing up for each other, day after day.
There isn’t anything quite like celebrating a buddy’s long sought after PR and then the next day grinding through hard intervals together, and the day after that just showing up because that’s what you do.
I know Kevin needed that. He found his version of it through Rugby. He loved it. But on September 21, 2013, he made a routine tackle, and for him and his undiagnosed CTE, it was the moment of impact that turned the lights off. He struggled for the next three and a half years before ultimately succumbing to his injuries.
Would CrossFit have saved my brother’s life? No. I don’t believe it would have. But I do believe that training regularly, with people, in an environment that both challenges and supports you, does something for the human spirit that going it alone never can.
Kevin gave it his all at everything he did. That’s what I remember most about him.
I started CrossFit Winnebago to be a place where any person, regardless of fitness background, could come in, learn to move well, and feel connected with a group of people who will support, encourage, and care for one another in the way I wished it could have cared for Kevin when he needed it most.
That’s why I show up every day.
