兰斯·阿姆斯特朗 /Lance Armstrong
The old saying that you should live each day as though it's your last is a nice sentiment, but it doesn't work. Take it from me. I tried it once and here's what I learned: if I pursued only happiness and lived just for the moment, I'd be a poor husband and father, a waster with a perpetual three-day growth on my chin. Cancer taught me that. Suffering, I learned, is as essential to a good life, and as inextricable as bliss.
Before cancer, whatever I imagined happiness to be, pretty soon I wore it out, took it for granted or threw it away. A portfolio, a Porsche, a coffee machine-these things were important to me. So was my hair. Then I lost them; including the hair.
When I was 25, I was diagnosed with advanced testicular cancer, which had metastasized into my lungs and brain. I sold my car, gave up my career as a world-class cyclist, lost a good deal of money and barely hung on to my life. When I went into remission, I thought happiness would mean being self-indulgent. Not knowing how much time I had left, I did not intent to suffer ever again.
I had suffered months of fear, chemotherapy so strong it left burn-like marks under my skin and surgery to remove two tumours. Happiness to me then was waking up. I ate Mexican food, played golf and lay on the couch. The pursuit of happiness meant going to my favorite restaurant and pursuing a plate of enchiladas with tomatillo sauce.
Two events changed me. The f irst happened one night at dinner. My wife Kristin put down her fork and said, “You need to decide something: are you going to be a golf-playing, beer-drinking, Mexican-food-eating slob for the rest of your life? If you are, I'll still love you. But I need to know because, if so, I'll go and get a job. I'm not going to sit at home while you play golf.”
I stared at her.
“I'm so bored.”she said.
Suddenly I understood that I was bored, too. Bored and purposeless. I realized that responsibility, the routines and habits of shaving in the morning, having a job to do and a wife to love-these were the things that tied my days together and gave them a pattern deserving of the term living.