One Year Ultra- Seven Years Sober

   I am sitting here in front of my computer thinking about the last twelve months of my life, and its overwhelming to say the least... It has been almost seven years since I last had a drink of alcohol. On August 5th of 2005 I woke for perhaps the 3,000th consecutive day in a state of shame, pain and intoxication left over from the previous nights activities. I promised myself that bleak morning that I wasn't going to see this to the ultimate end; I wasn't going to die at 34 years old. I gave in. I conceded. I was a drunk and I needed help. Somehow by the grace of God I made it a day, then a month and then a year, then 6 years. And now It seems I have yet one more year without polluting my body or spirit with narcotics or alcohol. But I have to remind myself that what I actually have is 2551 days sober as of this moment- and nothing else is guaranteed. Not tomorrow or next week, just today. And yet that is more than I could ever ask for and is in fact enough to build a pretty great life. 
    So back to the task at hand- how do I even attempt to deconstruct this most current block of time and all that has transpired? And what can I possibly hope to take from it once I get it all down on paper anyway? Stranger still is the irony that is never lost on me as I approach my "sober birthday" every year- the irony that there are many years that I simply cant piece together in any coherent way. The time is erased due to the cloud of those years spent in inebriation. So I started this blog post by asking myself the most obvious question I could think of;

 "What exactly happened during this year seven of my sobriety?"

     Well, as cliche as its sounds it was almost easier to ask "What didn't happen?" I got divorced, I moved into a new house, I lost my job, I tried to start a new career, I fell in love and got engaged, I ran across the State of Colorado, I did the work of a recovering alcoholic and somehow managed to be a dad to the three most beautiful kids in the world along the way. I should be tired- and I am. But I still have fuel to go for miles...

   Let me start with telling you what I am not going to do on this post. I am not going to candy coat or gloss over the lows that I experienced this year in an effort to create a positive entry that will be uplifting. It is just not my style to hold back like that. To selectively omit details is to be disingenuous, or at best it is less than honest. It is also a great way to eliminate the true beauty that lies in our lowest moments. I feel that the place where the dark voices come out and play is the place where we can ultimately find our brightest light and strongest self. It is where we touch our deepest instinct to survive and evolve to a higher and brighter path.
     What I am going to do however, is share my thoughts and memories without refining the contents (as has been my pattern) and put it all out there for your consumption. I guess there is some hope on my part that when the crap hits the wall, it forms some sort of an interesting, compelling and perhaps bright modern "shit-art" piece resembling the last twelve months of my life. But you know what they say; one mans art is another mans shit... Actually, I don't think anyone says that at all. Oh well, you know what I mean. I can say now looking back that my year was beautiful, and tough, and humbling and empowering and introspective all at once. It was a scavenger hunt resulting in me finding the "me" that was lost at moments, and discovering a "me" that I never knew. I also had to pull out my tools and rebuild some structures that were torn down in the storm of mid life. Today as I write this I feel I am weather tested, stronger, smarter, perhaps even a little wiser. And I am more aware then ever how nice the world looks when the clouds blow off.

  The new year and life started for me not on January 1st as is customary, but when my marriage came to an end in the early spring 2011. It is true that I had had some obvious problems in my marriage over the last several years, but everything else in my life was so insanely perfect that it became quite easy to put it aside and focus and all the good there was. I was sober, I was grateful for a second chance to be a dad and that was enough for the time being. Its amazing how you can live for years under a set of "operating procedures" that seem to make things work, and then one day it all crumbles in a blur of tears and changed addresses.
    In the same month that I was moving my small assortment of personal items into my new place, I received a phone call from my employer. It seemed that I did such a bang up job of imparting my wisdom to the new ownership that my services as Vice President of Sales were no longer needed. "Thank you for saving the business... keep in touch"  Not knowing what else to do, I figured this was a great chance to get out of the furniture business and switch to full time endurance coaching. I also committed to starting a non profit to hep recovering alcoholics and the morbidly obese... It seemed like a reasonable enough idea at the time. It was in fact a remarkable leap of faith.
     So I went about my new business plan. I went to work for a while as trainer for Life Time Fitness. I started a coaching business with my buddy Alan called "Ninety Percent Mental" and I put "The Superman Project" to work with the help of many friends. My life was good- very good. I coached athletes. I helped people lose weight and I ran across the State of Colorado on the "300 Mile Recovery Run" My heart was overwhelmed and my life transformed yet again as I was contacted by many people struggling with addiction in their own lives or in their families'. I was even blessed with the opportunity to share my story and watch as people looked at themselves in a new way. I call it the "If that monkey can get sober and run- certainty I can do it" moment that some people find inspiring.
    As I was trying to find myself in my new career pursuits I was also trying to find my "new" self as a father. Everything was different now- my undying love for my kids was the same- but everything else was yet to be determined. The first few months were a whirlwind of picking up kids, stealing moments at Jamba Juice, single night sleepovers and of course trying to explain all of what was happening to them. So we did what we could- we laughed and played and rediscovered each other at the park, the zoo and on the floor of my empty house.
   It didn't take long for my love starved heart to find a place to rest. Through the years certain parts of my emotional spectrum had simply turned off, and now it seemed they were active and alert again. Emily and I had already known for sometime that our hearts were in sync with each other. And looking back it is apparent that even when it seemed impossible that we would ever be more than training partners (both of us in relationships) our friendship was already deeper and more profound than time would have dictated. Now in this new environment we just let it go and loved without fear or expectation.I asked her to marry me at the finish of the Boston Marathon (crazy girl said yes...)

    But something was happening to me under the surface that was very hard for me to fully comprehend. I was still the same guy that I had been my whole life, but I was also very unfamiliar with the entire itinerary and content of my current life. I was less sure of who I was when I looked in the mirror. At times I felt I was watching myself from afar. Previously I had a clear cut idea of the future- a map and portrait of the direction I was heading. Now, not only had my old picture of the future washed away to a blank canvass, I was unsure if I could remember how to paint a new one. There was something hanging over or maybe hiding just under the surface of everything that I did. I was still grateful to be sober, and many areas my life had become so much better than they were before- So what was this looming doubt? It was failure. That's it- I felt like I failed. Somehow I failed my family, failed myself, failed my friends and worse; I felt selfish for making a new life. I felt like I was dying and being reborn at the same time. Or maybe I was becoming an entirely new living creature- a better and stronger person in some ways- yet unable to find the other familiar areas of my old self that were comfortable. Is it really possible to feel so amazingly good and yet so lost at the same time? I guess anything is possible in my crazy brain.
  
     Life for me has normally been comprised of knowing what the most important things are and having my priorities established. This is not an easy thing to do when you sever yourself in half and create a new place to stand in the world. Things that seemed to fit nicely in place before are now in direct competition for priority. Recently at a race I learned a very valuable lesson about taking your eyes off the prize. I showed up without a purpose and left without a finish. I find that when we falter in our commitment to something we have willingly surrendered control of the outcome- sure you might get where you want, but it isn't secured. When we are no longer steering the boat- its like we are adrift at sea hoping to eventually float into a beautiful port where all our dreams will be fulfilled. I think for me that is inadvertently what happened over the last several months of my life. I could see so many things that I wanted to do.So many areas that I wanted to dedicate myself- but how could I make it all work? The answer came when I finally saw that which I had lost momentary glimpse off; The universal picture of my life. I was so busy looking at the things I wanted to do and the reasons I wanted to do them that I missed the big picture of the world. There is no "me" There is no "kids" there is no "Emily and I" there is certainly no one perfect outcome- its all just my precious gift from the universe to be able to have all these wonderful people and experiences for my short time here on earth. That is it- enjoy the hell out of them and never anyone wonder how you feel. Damn, thank God, I found my center again.

      I feel like when I set off on this 12 month journey I was at the starting line of a one year ultra and I didn't even know it. I hit some highs and lows and I wanted to quit a few times. During the worst parts of it, I shut down my mind and focused it down to its most basic element- keep moving forward. I appeared to wake up in the middle of the race to find myself in a fight for a new life. In an ultra there are times when you cant even imagine the finish so you just try to imagine anything other than quitting. Then you find strength from pushing through that painful place. You keep going and you feel the power of your body rising. You can quantify the distance you are putting between you and the dark places of the past. You even start to get small pictures of the finish line- but not too fast- you don't want to get carried away too soon. You look at the beauty all around you and focus on the journey itself to distract your mind from the pain. Even as your body may tire, every second, every step forward makes you stronger. Eventually as you complete the distance you can see the race in its entirety- the beauty and struggle and the precious gift that each station was.  I can see the entire race now. It took a year to travel this course and it was worth every step along the path.

    The best analogy of what my 7th year of sobriety was came to me recently as I drifted off to sleep in my kids room. I just had an amazing two days with the kids and I was riding a high that no amount of drugs or alcohol could ever have launched me to. As my eyes closed I felt the world relax and create a peaceful place for me to float in- I found myself sitting in a boat. In my vision I had rowed out in to the center of a lake. I could see every thing important to me on the shore. I could see Emily. I could see my kids and my mom and dad. I could see my brothers and all my friends. I could see alcoholics and addicts and even finish lines and races standing there as if they were people. They were all looking directly at me and their eyes all seemed to be asking the same question "Where have you gone?" As I sat in my boat I was painfully aware that if I rowed to any one of these friends, I would be rowing away from the others...  Not knowing what to do, I looked around to the places on shore where no one was standing. I saw a nice green section of  land with a great view of the mountains and the water. It looked perfectly suited for me so I rowed my boat over to the vacant spot. As I reached the shore and climbed out of the boat I was greeted by all my loved ones on shore. They embraced me and welcomed me with love. I could see now that when I saw them from the center of the lake, they were not asking me where I went. They were asking me where I was going so they could meet me there.
  

     

LNF (Llama Not Finish)

      OK, first things first. Thank you everyone for the amazing love and warmth that has been sent my way in light of my "Debacle in Laramie" as I am calling it. And in case you are still worried about me let me say this- I am always ready to quickly and without filter share my feelings (even in my weakest moments) this is very true. But, I am also a tough nut to crack. I am indescribably stubborn, I have been through the ringer a couple of times and it will take a hell of a lot more than a DNF to fold me up or fracture my psyche permanently.

Nice little rant there, Llama. But that having been said; what the hell happened? Hmmm, that's kinda of easy to answer and yet complex at the same time.

     Building up to the race week things were to say the least, hectic. Emily had to be out of her apartment on the same weekend of my 100 mile race and due to RAAM and other obligations in May and June we were unable to get any of her moving or packing done in advance. As the time grew shorter I began to realize that getting the move done (as we had hoped for) before Thursday and then heading up to Wyoming for the Laramie 100 seemed unlikely. So I was faced with a very tough predicament; listen to Emily who was telling me to go race, or do what I thought was right and blow off the race to help her get moved into our home. It seemed like a fairly straightforward (yet slightly heartbreaking decision); don't race. But as the stress of moving increased it became apparent that it wasn't that easy at all. Emily certainly didn't want me to miss my race after all the training I did. And I didn't want Emily to move without help. And I certainly didn't want her to feel bad for the rest of her life about making me miss my race. WTF? We both wanted to do right by the other person- but we were both miserable. I was in a mental battle to find "the right thing" to do. Be "selfish" and go race (that doesn't sound like a very good option at all) or stay and help Emily and make her feel horrible (also not high on the attractive scenario list).

  After some debate Em and agreed that I would head up to Wyoming to race and she would join me late Friday night or even Saturday afternoon worst case. She and her Mom would be able to get the remaining cleaning and moving done after her Dad and I had moved all the big furniture and boxes earlier that week... As I was driving up to Wyoming I was still in a huge conflict. My mind was going a million miles per hour and I was on the verge of turning the car around at every exit. I eventually made it to Laramie and checked into the hotel. I tossed and turned all night long and went to the race course the next morning to check out the start and try to make some sense of it. I decided I didn't care about the race. I drove back to the hotel, checked out and drove back to Denver immediately. I told Emily I was pulling out of the race and needless to say she wasn't very happy. But I think she was pleased to have some help. After some debate she and I moved a bunch of boxes and spent several hours cleaning, and we eventually got most of the moving done. I figured we would still be moving for the next several hours when abruptly Emily came into the room I was working on and informed me that the apartment office manager told her she didn't need to be out until Monday... Before I knew it we had stopped moving and we were in the car driving back to Wyoming together to race early the next day- just like that. I wasn't very convinced at all that this was the right decision, and I may have even sulked the entire way there. We checked into a hotel and fell asleep in each others arms exhausted.

  As I stood at the starting line the next morning my head was a mess. I was still thinking of what was left as far as moving goes, I was wondering if I should change to the 12 hour race instead of the 100, and I was thinking about everything in the world except how to race 100 miles.
     The race started and I went off fairly fast. I figured screw it, lets just run. I ran the first 12 miles of hilly single track in a sub 9 pace. I was going in and out of phases that had me feeling great and also thinking I should scrap the race and take care of business; live to fight another day. For miles 12-24 the demons were in full effect- telling me that I was being selfish for running, telling me that I was a incapable of racing in this mental state and telling me this was just a joyless experience. I was so emotionally and mentally folded by the time I came into base camp at mile 24 that I told Emily I was done. I told her "I have nothing left emotionally, physically or mentally" I decided to call it a day. We sat in the car for a while and I made peace of sorts with quitting. There was just too much going on and I wanted to be done. I didn't want to suffer for 15-18 more hours- "Call me a cab; I'm going home" Instead what happened was I got out of the car after almost 30- 40 minutes past, I pulled up my panties and started running again. Emily told me it was "the bravest thing she had ever seen" I didn't think so at all. I was miserable- and I would have rather shoved a bowling ball in my ass than go run, but I set off running anyway.

 In fact I ran pretty well. I finally let my mind go and tried to make sense of it- OK, I made it through the worst of the fears and mental diarrhea, I thought. And I didn't quit, even at my lowest moment- that made me feel good. So, now what? I could try to run the 100 (a reasonable although slightly unattractive option) I could go 50 and call it a day, I could get Emily out here to run with me for a while... what to do? I made it back to base camp with every intention of changing my shoes and getting back out there. When I sat down, I felt a little emotion starting to surface again. Then I found out there were some things going on at work- stressful bullshit that still needed to get taken care of before Monday- So I quit. Just like that. I felt great- I could have kept going- but I didn't. I didn't want to go suffer all night, and instead of figuring out how we could make it work, I turtled up, took of my bib number and said "lets go back home" Before I knew what happened we packed up the car and we were heading to Denver. I was confused and melancholy and my mind was mush.

 What did I learn here? A couple things and unfortunately I already knew most of them...


  1.  Commitment. You cant do ANYTHING if you aren't committed to making it work (even when it gets ridiculously hard) Burn the damn bridges and run like hell... HARD- that's how we do 100 miles. Period. There is no such thing as 99% committed.

 2. Joy. I run best when I run for joy. Even when I am running to PR, I am motivated by the joy of it. Even when it hurts and I am in pain- I am running for the joy of my recovery and because there are others who would love to be able to lace em up and go.

 3. Respect. Ultra is fucking hard, excuse my language. It deserves respect and it will humble you and kick your ass if you take it less than seriously. I am sorry I disrespected you.

 4. Knowledge. We learn when we fail. I failed. I learned.


       You know, I speak quite frequently on life change and weight loss and running, and its funny because commitment is always on the top of my list. The body and mind have no idea how to allocate its resources until we have commitment; easy enough. If your pain battered brain sees a way out when things are hard it will convince you to take it. However if your head knows no matter what, you will run like a crazy wild eyed freak right through the center of hell- you can be sure your body will figure out a way to make you faster... Hell, I butter my morning toast with this stuff. I have gone into total hand to hand combat with the voices in my head and yet somehow in a haze of stress and indecision I forgot it all. I forgot the very secret to my  life and recovery; create the destiny you desire and move forward. Don't stop, no fear, shut up head I am not listening to you anymore, I have work to do - redemption awaits...

       So I guess that's it. That is how I spent my weekend. It was not my first DNF but it was my most humbling and my most confusing for sure. I have been called obsessive in my past about not letting myself quit even on the most simple of training runs. Once I drove back to the gym after cutting a treadmill run short- I went back later that day to "get the miles I left behind" with a couple extra added on. I once told myself at the start of an 8 mile run "I don't feel very well today maybe I should run 6?" My response was to tell myself I was running 12 miles as punishment for even thinking I should quit early... sick? Probably. But before you call the therapist and set up an intervention you should know that I do rest when I am injured. I take days off when I am over training and I listen to my body (the memory of my spinal injury makes sure that I do this) and honestly, I don't mind the time off from running when its planned or necessary. But I don't ever want to quit just because I am not feeling like training or because I am having a bad day. I want the body of my work as an athlete and even as a human to be that of a joyful, relentless and focused individual. I hold the line in my training if for no other reason, precisely because know I am a flawed human and that I will stumble, but I chose to define myself by what I do every day- day in and day out. Perhaps most importantly, I don't really think its very important how fast we run, but I believe there is nothing more essential to the human condition than the speed at which we pick ourselves up when we fall.