Life ain’t about how many breaths you take. It’s what you do with those breaths.

We’ve been a bit bummed out lately. Working long hours. Having trouble sleeping at night. Not motivated to do a whole lot of anything. As you’ve seen from the last few days of radio silence, we haven’t even been able to conjure up any of our juvenile little rants via this creative outlet.

Well, luckily in life there are people who can remind you of how much of an ass you are. Folks who are enlightened enough to see that life is generally a pretty darn good thing. These are people who have long since realized that all the superficial b.s. is just that. They remind you of what’s important and how little so many of the things we spend countless hours worrying about actually matter. In this world, there are people like John Challis who, in simple, honest language, are there to give us a metaphorical kick in the pants.

That’s why it’s even harder to explain why bad things often seem to find these good souls.

For those of us who frequent sports blogs, John Challis’s story may be familiar. If not, you may want to catch up by reading the original story that helped thrust John into the national spotlight. It’s a tale of a teenager with terminal cancer who has embraced his illness, used his personal battle to inspire others, managed the Pittsburgh Pirates, met some of sports biggest stars, roped a single to right field in his lone high-school at-bat and coined an unofficial slogan – hope + belief = life. Not a bad little run when you consider he’s done all of the above in about two years.

Yesterday, John Challis died at the age of 18.

Regardless of whether you’ve heard his story, it bears re-telling and sharing, and it demands we each take a bit of John’s straight-shooting advice to heart. Although I never met John Challis, he’s reminded me of a few things this morning. He’s reminded me that life is good. He’s reminded me not to lose sight of what’s really important and to appreciate what I have. He’s reminded me about the value of living – really living – each and every day. And, for all that, I thank him.