Early in my recovery, I discovered how running can help me stay sober. Today’s race was something more, it was . . .
- a way to make amends to myself physically
(smash the FEAR of getting old)
- another way to connect with my boys
- (deflate the FEAR of parenting failure)
- a chance to face more people who judge me
(expose the lies of PRIDE which says everyone must respect me)
- a demonstration that I’m not hiding anymore
(laugh about the FEAR of hateful looks)
- to test myself, short races are about guts, you go to the dark place inside and see what you can find
(challenge the FEAR of wimping out)
- a way to be humble, I wasn’t prepared to run well
(mock my own PRIDE still can’t believe I’m this slow)
I’m walking a little taller, my time of 26:11 was a PW (personal worse). That’s about what I expected, but I have zero regrets. Today matters because I faced the fears above.
Alcohol wrecked my health and wasted some of my fastest years as a runner. I love running, when it goes right I feel totally free. When life is hard it gives me time to think, to find my rhythm, and to breathe. Today was a reminder of those things.
This location was so important to my story. If you place my ADDICTION story on a map this downtown river-walk would be featured. It was home to my favorite bars, my meth running girlfriend, and my drunken strolls trying to get sober enough to drive less drunk.
No More Hiding
As I wrote last week, I’m not hiding my addiction and mental illness anymore.
I want to be friends with people, even if they cross the street to avoid me.
People who once talked to me out of social obligation, now they roll their eyes and whisper. It wasn’t so bad at church, but this race meant facing so many other potential haters.
Mrs. D: Tony is the biggest alcoholic in town.
Mrs. J: Did you know his whore Haitian girlfriend is only 20-something?
Mrs. D: He’s was never a real Christian, we saw this coming.
Mrs. W: I heard it was some kind of mental breakdown.
Mrs. D: What about all those kids, what’s his x-wife going to do with them?
ALL: Hush. Quiet. Oh no, he’s walking this way.
That’s just my paranoid imagination, but I’ve heard similar conversations over coffee in the the Sunday School department at church.
To my sweet fan-club:
I’m back and I’ll be here for a while. ????
Let’s keep things interesting.
I’ve missed your constipated little smiles.