I Am No Hero

     That is for sure. I have a long scar at the base of my spine that reminds me I cannot catch bullets or leap tall buildings. Sure, I try to push the barrier of my capabilities to the edge- and so far it turns out that my limits were miles ahead of where I thought-but I never get too far before I am reminded that I am human. Not only human but a very flawed one at that.

    I have nothing figured out. I am broke. I am 40 years old and I work part time for pennies. And the most amazing thing is I may have spent everyday of my life without the benefit of actually learning anything. Sure I go through periods of time where I think I understand things, but upon deep inspection I realize I was off by a thousand miles. That doesn't mean that I haven't been able to accomplish a couple things along the way, I lost some weight, managed to stop drinking myself to death and figured out that there is nothing more important than my kids, but other than that...

     Perhaps my problem is that I am the most selfish person in the world. Yeah, I do things. Actually I do lots of things to help other people. But what if the only reason I do anything is because it makes me feel better about me? Am I merely trying to buy back my soul for the atrocities of selfish drinking and extreme vanity that plagued me for almost 15 years? Maybe the reason I lay awake late at night trying to figure out how I can change the world is only because I tarnished the world to begin with?

    I do feel pain. In fact I cry when I see someone caught in the current of substance abuse. I see human souls hopelessly being tossed around into the consequences of compulsive indulgence. People inadvertently slamming into innocent bystanders and family members until something breaks and lives are damaged. I can sometimes actually feel the mass of  my own Jameson bottle still leaning next to my right leg as I sat on the couch and drank myself closer to death every night. I can still feel the very essence of the struggle on an almost cellular level. I can feel the hot blood pulsing through my veins and taste the shame and whiskey on my lips. In those moments there is nothing that I wouldn't do to take the burden of the struggle, even from a stranger, and fight the demon myself. After all, I am strong now, right? And I do know this enemy... but the battle is not mine to fight. I realize that the best thing I can do, is share my story, and offer up my own battle plan to help slay this powerful beast. Perhaps I can show how far I have come in my own journey. I can share my thoughts and what I am doing. I can tell them all that I have planned to help kill the beast... But then I realize that I am talking about me again...

    I am a runner. I am father. That is all that I am. That is probably all I should try to be. I don't run any farther or faster than a large majority of ultra runners. The only thing special about me is that 7 years ago my running shorts would have been size 50 and my hand held would have been full of whiskey. My Superman credentials only go as far as a tattoo I put on my left calf after I finished the Leadville 100 in 28:21:56.

David.