Float and Sting

Are We Celebrating the Right Things?

Born Cassius Clay Jr. in 1942, Muhammad Ali became a legend not just for his athleticism, but for the weight of everything he carried outside the ring. During his twenty-one-year boxing career, he was a multiple Golden Glove winner, an Olympic champion, and a three-time world heavyweight champion. Before retiring in 1981, he’d compiled a 56–5 record with thirty-seven knockouts.

Screenshot of the Ali Center homepage

But Ali was never just a boxing champion. He advocated fiercely for civil rights, justice, freedom, and equality, and paid for it. A three-year ban from boxing, for his conscientious objection to the Vietnam War, was among the heaviest prices he paid.

I wasn’t even ten years old when Ali retired. I knew who he was. Every kid who ever fought with a sibling knew his most famous line — “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Your hands can’t hit what your eyes can’t see.” But I didn’t truly know his life until I met his daughter, Rashida, who wrote one of the forewords to The Greatest Burden The Greatest Blessing.

In 1984, Ali was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. He would spend the next thirty-two years — the rest of his life — fighting it.

Rashida described her father’s battle this way:

“Although slurred speech was one of my father’s most cumbersome and inconvenient symptoms, he bravely accepted the challenge and continued to lead by example. He motivated and inspired us to serve others — helping people evolve physically, mentally, and spiritually — and encouraged others to become the best versions of themselves. I feel his greatest accomplishments were outside of the ring, including his contributions in raising awareness for neurocognitive diseases.”

In 2005, Ali and his wife, Lonnie, founded the Muhammad Ali Center in Louisville, Kentucky, a beacon for social justice that continues to carry his legacy forward, even after his passing on June 3, 2016.

This week’s MARK. Set. Go… was written in Louisville. I’m here for ASB’s National Sales Conference, our largest event of the year, with more than 500 colleagues and incredible suppliers under one roof. We come together to share ideas, gain insight, and celebrate what we’ve built.

On Thursday morning, after the conference wraps, I’ll be visiting the Ali Center. More than a museum, it celebrates Ali’s full journey, from his childhood in Louisville to becoming a global icon, organized around the Six Core Principles that guided his life: Confidence, Conviction, Dedication, Giving, Respect, and Spirituality. I’m genuinely looking forward to putting a face to the real Ali. The one Rashida told me about.

Parkinson’s. Alzheimer’s. ALS. They are horrible, relentless diseases.

Several of our authors shared their stories in The Greatest Burden The Greatest Blessing. Last week, one of my closest friends said goodbye to his mom, who lost her battle with Alzheimer’s. Another friend from Fairfield just learned her mom has the disease, after she and her husband already walked through it once with his mother. There are no words for that kind of weight.

But Rashida’s words about her father have stayed with me.

“I personally feel that God put him on this earth for a reason. My dad always shared with us that everything in life has a purpose — which is why I feel he never complained about his condition and continued to help others and never stopped sharing his gifts.”

I don’t believe God doles out Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s for a reason. But I do believe that everything in life has a purpose, even the hardest things. Having just turned 54 over the weekend, I find myself thinking about this more than I used to. Is my purpose supporting Coleen and my family? Sharing stories about caregiving, passion, and personal growth? Or something else I haven’t fully named yet?

Photo by Nik on Unsplash

Part of me knows it’s all three. I may never understand exactly why or how — and maybe we’re not supposed to have that much clarity. But believing is a start. And believing is enough for now.

So here’s what I’m asking of you this week. Take two or three minutes a day — in the shower, waiting for your coffee, just before your eyes give out at night, or the moment they open in the morning — and sit with two questions:

What makes me happy, smile, or laugh? What can I do to feel that more often?

You don’t need an answer from the universe. You don’t need to convince yourself you’ve solved anything. Just ask. Two to three minutes a day for one week. Then see how you feel.

How many of us move through our days without ever asking ourselves what brings us joy? There’s nothing to lose. And there might be more to gain than you expect.

I’ll leave you with Rashida’s final words, written about caregiving, but honestly, they belong to everyone:

“Life will undoubtedly throw challenges your way, but one of the most inspiring things I’ve learned from my father during his fight with Parkinson’s disease was learning how to be courageous. He followed the inspirational words of Nelson Mandela, who said, ‘The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”

Be courageous this week. Ask yourself what makes you happy — not your spouse, your children, your parents, or the people you love most. You.

Those brief conversations with yourself might just contain part of your purpose.