“Writing After A Run”

It cooled off enough today that I went for my run while it was still light out. I think I’ve gotten used to running at night, because on the way over to the park I found myself anticipating all the people that would be there and thinking how I hate running when there are other people around.

By the time I’d reached the park, though, I had shoved aside any resistance and put myself in to the mental discipline of the run. I’m very focused; I concentrate on my form, keeping a steady pace, and give myself a lot of positive energy. Maybe in time it will become easier, something I can just go out and do, but for now it’s still new enough that I need to motivate myself strongly to keep going. That may be one of the reasons I enjoy it so much--each time I go out, it’s like a triumph of mind over matter, of overcoming the body that’s telling me I can’t do it and proving to myself once again that I can.

The reason I don’t like having other people around is it’s more difficult for me to maintain my rhythm. I have to slow down for the walkers, watch out for the dogs, and stay clear of the cyclists. The cyclists in particular get to me. It’s a sand runners’ path; what the hell is wrong with them that they’re bicycling on it?

I suppose in the interests of rigorous honesty, I could mention that I feel a little insecure running around other people, too; a little bit less-than. I don’t go very fast, and I’m still heavier than I wish I were. Those things will change in time, of course.

It’s not such a bad thing for me to feel these things. Here’s where Recovery kicks in--to combat those insecurities and aggressive tendencies, the feelings that if I don’t deal with them I’ll end up getting drunk or high because of. The tape plays out like this: I feel less-than because I’m not in as good of shape as the other runners, or I’m so pissed off at having to deal with obstacles that I just give up and stop running altogether; then I feel like shit because I gave up, that I’m worthless and never going to accomplish anything. After that? It’s gettin’ fucked up time.

But I don’t have to take that road. I can choose instead to remember that I’ve got no control over other people, to give myself mad props for continuing to get out there and run over a mile 3-4 times a week. That perspective, that mental place, takes so much less energy than being hard on myself and feeling depressed. It's the difference between unmanageable and manageable. Plus, the more I do it, the better I feel about myself for continuing to do it. It’s one more thing that if you told me I’d be doing it back when I was still out there, I’d never have believed you.

They say addiction is a disease of the mind, body, and soul. We have to take care of all three to get the most out of our Recovery. I never thought I’d end up being the kind of guy who runs and lifts weights. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care about how it’s changing my body for the better; I love that shit. But I do it for the discipline more than any other reason.

It’s important to me now to take care of myself. I don’t go too crazy on it for the same reason I don’t go too crazy trying to go to lots of meetings or doing lots of service. Balance. That’s what’s most important. Having a balanced life. I have the program--the Steps, and the other people in the Fellowship--to thank for helping me to get here, to a mental place where I care enough about me to take care of myself. Spiritually, mentally, and physically.