The story of how running has helped to overcome drug addiction
Books / / December 19, 2019
Despite the addiction to alcohol and cocaine, I somehow managed to several times a week to visit a local running club. In me there was enough self-esteem to care about how I look, and the run was the most effective way to keep the body in shape. Together with me in the group ran the familiar manual therapist Jay. He participated in several marathons and incited to try me. He knew that I was an alcoholic and a drug addict. He thought that I needed to motivate and liberation from dependence to put in front of some kind of goal.
A week before the Big Sur Marathon, I decided to take part in it. Before that I ran more than 16 kilometers, a couple of times in my life, but thought it was not so difficult. You simply do not stop and continue to put one foot. Pam did not believe that I can do it, but it seemed to be pleased with the fact that their "training" week, I stopped drinking. Jay told me not to run the day before the marathon. I listened to his advice, but since I had nothing to do, I just sat there and
worried. As a result, a few hours later I was in a bar on Canneri Row and together with his friend Mike inhaled nose white track.- Tomorrow I'm running a marathon - I said, brushing dust from his nose.
- Well, you pour.
- True true. I need to be at 5:30 am in Carmel, to get on the bus, which will arrive at the start.
Mike looked at his watch, and rolled his eyes.
I looked at my watch:
- That's disgusting.
It was two in the morning.
I rushed home, took a shower, brushed my teeth twice and sprinkled cologne neck and armpits. Swallowing a few aspirin tablets and drinking their water, I ran into the Carmel, to catch the bus. 42 kilometers shaking hilly winding road almost killed me. Stomach turned inside out, the left ankle was throbbing and blushing - I must have sprained her night - and I really wanted to use the toilet. Worse still, he is sitting next to me the guy was too sociable and all the time trying to maintain a conversation. I barely restrained so I did not throw up at him. When I finally fell out of the bus, dressed only in a T-shirt and shorts, I realized that this form is not very suitable for the morning chill - was slightly above zero. So, I was sick, I was drugged, frightened and froze.
Over the years, I have mastered the skill of "strategic vomiting" and decided that just the right time to apply it. Going into the bushes, I tried to clean the stomach. I felt better and I was able to stuff a banana energy drink at the table with snacks. Then, while the speakers echoed the national anthem, I walked around a bit and went to the service personnel. Swallowing a second portion of the beverage, I heard a gun shot and instinctively ducked. But no one in the I did not shoot. It is likely, the race began. And I even was not standing next to the start line.
I ran down the road and gradually caught up with mincing crowd of three thousand participants. When the crowd a little resolved, I quickened the pace. When we ran through a grove of mahogany trees, the sun shone through the mist, illuminating the gentle green hills in front. I could smell the alcohol on his skin and thought his smell all around. At fifteen kilometers I crossed the long bridge, and then began climbing to the top of Hurricane Point three kilometers long. Jay had warned me about this rise. A strong wind was blowing in my face. Stomach clenched like a tight fist. I got to the top and ran down yet another bridge. At half distance mark I stopped to puke again. A man asked if everything in my order.
- Not. Hangover. Beer will not find?
He laughed.
- Highlands Inn. On the twenty-third mile! - he cried, stepping aside. - There's always noisy.
He thought that I jokingAnd I think I also thought so, but on the 37th kilometer he could not think about anything other than cold beer. I turned his head in search of Highlands Inn. Finally for the next turn saw a dozen people sitting on garden chairs next to the fridge.
- Another four and a half kilometers, - one of them shouted. - It is possible to begin to celebrate.
Some runners welcomed their cheers and waving; others simply fled without noticing and looking only forward.
I stopped.
- Pivka do not find?
Someone handed me a jar. I threw back his head and drained it. Those present cheered. I bowed slightly in acknowledgment, took another jar, drank and belched. All "give me five". Then I ran on and the next one and a half kilometer felt delicious - much better than the whole morning. The nature around was beautiful - rocky headlands, with winding cypress trunks, long beaches with dark sand. And pure blue of the Pacific Ocean to the horizon, where it dissolves in the bands of pale cotton fog.
Then the road turned from the coast to the gas station, where musicians played. The assembled audience shouted and waved flags and posters. Children on the sidelines smiling and holding trays of sliced strawberries for runners. The smell of fresh berries, I suddenly poplohelo. My legs gave way, I rushed to the sidelines, doubled over, and I vomited again. Then I stood up and walked on bent forward, wiping his chin. The children stared at me with their mouths open. "Fu" - handed one of them.
I've turned into a complete wreck. But I decided in whatever was to finish the damn marathon. At first I was just walking, then forced himself to run. My feet were burning, aching quadriceps. I saw a sign with the word "40 kilometers". Near the field, behind a fence topped with barbed wire, grazing horses, then orange poppies grow leaning almost horizontally in the wind. I went up the steep hill and ran over the bridge across the Carmel River. Then it appeared the long-awaited finish. I forced myself to keep straight, lift your knees, waved his hands. "Hold on, Angle, show them all. Show me what you're an athlete, not some asshole. "
I crossed the finish line with the result of a little less than three hours thirty minutes. Assistant to put my neck ceramic medal has run marathon. All around me happy, shaking hands, hugging friends. Someone was crying. And what I felt? Some satisfaction - yes, it was. I managed. I proved Pam, friends and myself that I can achieve something. And, of course, relieved - relieved that it was over and I will not have to run further. But there was still a shadow that darkens all other sensations: depressing despair. I just ran 42 kilometers. Fucking marathon. It must also be in the seventh heaven. Where is my joy? As soon after returning home, I dialed the phone a familiar drug dealer. […]
In January 1991, I agreed to go to a rehabilitation center "Beacon House" is located in a large Victorian house in a landscaped park near our house. I did it to please Pam and the family and partly because he realized: a little moderation I can not hurt. The whole night before I walked. Climbing the steps to report on first day sobriety of twenty-eight, I saw my suitcase. Pam left, leaving him on the sidewalk.
After I filled out the necessary papers, I was sent for examination to the clinic, which is located in a separate building. I went into the body, and sat in the waiting room next to a very ordinary-looking people - mothers with children, elderly couples, a pregnant woman. I thought over my head lit sign "addict." I orzal uneasily in his chair, snapping his fingers, he picked up an old magazine of the American Association of Retired Persons and put it back. Finally they called me and I went into the office.
The young nurse was kind enough to perform the necessary checks and asking me questions. I was relieved to think that will do without lecturing. When the examination is over, I thanked her and headed for the door.
She grabbed my hand, encouraging turn.
- You know, you could actually quit if both should want. You just infirmityAnd you lack the resolve.
These words I myself saying to myself a thousand times. As if she heard them through a stethoscope while listening to my heart.
Before, I only know I was some defective; I have now received confirmation from the healthcare worker. I shot out of the office and clinic, burning with shame.
I was told that you need to immediately go back to the "Beacon House", but I was attracted beach, located just a few blocks - and on the beach there is a bar without windows called 'Segovia', where I spent a lot of hours. Walk along the ocean, a glass of beer - I so needed it.
But I knew that he was committing a grand mistake. Pam and Chief They are furious. They have made it clear that if I do not abide by the rules of the center and pass twenty-eight day course, back then they would not be accepted. Therefore, had no choice but to take this course, despite the fact that even the nurse put me on the cross. I wandered to the "Beacon House."
Now I had to detox. I'm used to fasten completely for some time - and done so many times. I knew what to expect - tremors, anxiety, agitation, sweats, blurred consciousness - and even thought about it with satisfaction. I deserve this. Weekends lying in bed, walked across the room, or turning left on the table "Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous."
I just went out for breakfast, lunch and dinner; He pounced on the food with a strange fervor, stuffing himself to the eyeballs stewed vegetables, rolls and pastries, as if they could numb the pain.
On Monday I had my first consultation. I had never talked to a therapist and afraid of the upcoming talks. I went into his office - a room with high ceilings and wood paneling. Through the large windows overlooking the sunlit green lawn with lanthanum and pine trees. My consultant was a man of about thirty-something, clean-shaven, wearing glasses and a shirt buttoned all the buttons. He introduced himself as John, and I shook his hand. In one ear he had earring, brown stone set in gold, is very much like an eye. I sat on the couch across from him, poured a carafe of water and drank it in one fell swoop.
- So, a little about me, - he said. - I I do not drink For more than five years. Drinking and taking drugs, I started as a child. In college, I could not hold back. Driving under the influence, trade, everything.
I wondered what he says. I thought, I will speak. Then I relaxed a little and said:
- Sounds like it.
We talked a little bit about where I'm from, what I do and for how long "drink."
- Do you think for yourself, you have a relationship? - John asked.
- I can not say exactly. I only know that when I start, you can not stop.
- You want to be sober?
- I think so.
- Why?
- Because I know what I need to change in order to save their marriage and do not lose their jobs.
- It's good, but do something you want to be sober? For its own sake? Apart from marriage and work.
- I like to drink, as well as enjoy the thrill of cocaine. But lately, I need more and more drugs and alcohol in order to achieve the desired state. It bothers me. It takes me longer to escape.
- to distract from what?
- I can not say - I laughed nervously.
He waited until I go on.
- People keep telling me what I have a wonderful life. I have a loving wife and a job that I perform well. But I do not feel happy. I do not feel anything.
As if I'm trying to be the kind of person I represent other. Like putting a checkmark in their demands.
- And how you have to be in the opinion of others?
- Someone who is better than me.
- Who thinks so?
- Everything. Father. Wife. I.
- But something makes you happy? - John asked.
- I do not know what it means to be happy.
- You feel happyWhen you sell more cars than other sellers?
- Not particularly. Just I feel relief.
- Relief from what?
- From what I can continue to pretend. Delay the day when people will learn the truth about me.
- And what is that truth?
- The fact that I look at the people who cry, laugh or rejoice, and think: "Why I did not feel?" I have no feelings. I just pretend that they are. I look at people and trying to understand how to look to make it seem like I feel something.
John smiled.
- Very shitty situation, right? - I asked.
- Well, not quite. About as think of any alcoholic or drug addict.
- Really?
- Yes. Therefore, we are trying to awaken their senses through alcohol or drugs.
I was relieved and grateful.
- Oh, I have something for sure.
- Well, and what moments you experience a kind of real feelings?
I thought for a minute.
- I would say that when I run.
- Tell me about it: what do you feel when run.
- Well, like I clean out their brains and guts. Everything falls into place. Cease to jump from one thought to another. I can focus. Just stop thinking about any nonsense.
- It looks like it works well.
- Well yes.
- So you are happy when run?
- Happy is it? I do not know. Maybe yes. I feel the strength. And the ability to control himself.
- Do you like it? To be strong? Control yourself?
- Yes. I mean, I almost never in my life felt so. Usually I feel weak, spineless, as they say. If I were strong, I would have immediately put an end to everything.
- It's not in any of your lack of character, - said John.
- And I think it is just that.
- Not at all. And you must understand it. Addiction - it's a disease. It's not your fault, but now that you know it, you must decide what to do.
I looked him in the eye. No one has ever told me that. That not only am I the one to blame.
In the next four weeks, visiting group and single counseling, I realized that something tayascheesya deep in me, and which requires alcohol and drugs - not my doing. There are no logical reasons that I destroy myself. Inside me there is some sort of secret code combination, and when the numbers with a click of the same, the desire to come out on top. Science can not explain it, love can not win, and did not stop even the prospect of imminent death. I'm addicted and stay addicted, as a consultant said. But - and this is the most important thing - I do not have live as a dependent.
Charlie Engle - ultramarafonets, record for the intersection Saharan party tens triathlons. And former alcoholic and a drug addict. In his book he described how there was his addiction, he struggled with it and how to run saved his life.
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