Four Words With Danica Patrick

I spoke four words to auto racing superstar Danica Partick this morning at the .

Four simple words: "Hi, how are you?"

Then the blood rushed to my cheeks and I was blushing. It was dark. I was hoping she didn't notice.

Shortly after that, I felt like I was back in high school. Like the words had transported me back in time 20 years to a time when big hair and parachute pants were all the rage.

I felt that gut-wrenching, knee-quivering, voice-shaking feeling that comes over you when you finally have the chance to talk to the prettiest girl in school.

Although I'm not a racing fan, in the world of sports, Danica Patrick is that girl.

And all I said was, "Hi. How are you?"

I was devastated. Here was my chance to make an impression and ... zilch.

Still, she turned to me and flashed that million-dollar smile. "I'm great, thanks. Happy to be here this morning."

With that, handlers from ushered her past me and toward dozens of fans who had gathered to hear her speak about a cause dear to her heart, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease.

Patrick lost her grandmother to COPD and now uses her celebrity to raise awareness to a disease that claims the life of one person every four minutes.

"It's the fourth-leading cause of death in this country," Patrick said. "It kills more people that breast cancer and diabetes combined. Our mission is for people to be as aware of the pinwheel (the logo for COPD awareness) as they are of the pink ribbon because it deserves it. The millions of people who die each year from this disease–it's staggering."

I am very familiar with COPD. A few years back my mother was diagnosed with the disease and spent time dragging oxygen tanks behind her, losing her breath with the simplest of effort, and fighting to take in air.

Luckily, dropping a decades-long smoking habit, as well as medication and top-notch care, have made my mom's COPD virtually symptomless ... for now.

But, as Patrick explained, "The disease has no cure."

My grandmother and uncle both died of pulmonary diseases. Watching someone slowly suffocate is agonizing, and any lung-related disorder, including COPD, is a cruel and merciless way to die.

After nearly 40 minutes of speaking to the audience about COPD, as well as racing, Patrick answered questions from the media, then sat down at a small folding table to sign autographs and pose for pictures with fans.

She smiled as dozens of folks grinned from ear-to-ear in photos, nervously asking her to make the autograph to so-and-so, and generally gawking at the sight of such a pop-culture icon.

As I stood no more than five feet from her during the entire autograph session, snapping the occasional picture, I wondered how much of this she actually liked doing.

Sure, the little kids were cool, and whenever they approached the table her smile widened. But the adults–some came with photos of her dressed provocatively, and others brought multiple items up for her to sign.

"Who am I signing this to?" she would ask the adults, knowing full well that many had come to get her autograph only to sell it online. Personalizing the item makes that virtually impossible.

A fellow photographer stood beside me and after one such autograph seeker seemed upset when she posed this question.

"I think the novelty of this would wear off," I said to my colleague, referring to the autograph session. "I actually feel kinda bad for her, in a sense. This is kinda creepy."

With that, Patrick turned to me and a smile crept across her face. She looked at me for a second or two longer then brought her eyes to the next person in line.

When the folks at The Henry Ford decided time was up, she rose from her chair and began to walk away. No more than four or five paces into her exit, however, she turned back and waved, flashing that smile once more in my direction.

I realized in that moment that she's not only the prettiest girl in school, but she might also be the nicest. 

And suddenly, I became a Danica Patrick fan.