[running is shortly addressed in last paragraph if you’ve like to skip (; ]
There were pieces that I was going to write yesterday, but I erased them. For whatever reason, fear of being open, honest, naked, exposed. I’ve spent the last 15 years on a comeback tour from a time when I was a drunk and failed out of school, fell into depression and was miserable and ashamed. Years later, when I got out of the Marines, I saturated myself with excitement, going out with friends, adding comedy to my college courses, living and breathing the city of Boston. I went to almost every bar around, tried many new types of food, made lots of friends and was successful. . . until my brothers and friends were gone, the gym was closed, Euro Cup was not on the telly. Those were the days when I faced myself and all the failures. I was a day drinker, hoping that I’d just fall asleep and reach the next day, class or moment when there was some other noise to drown it all out.
It’s still what I fight. Sometimes I worry that adrenaline is just my escape from reality. Peace comes to me when I’m moving, building something, tearing it down, always a gerund, never zen. Running is my meditation, when the world stands still, I can drink in the universe and be one with joyfulness. Hiking up mountains and facing my kryptonite, anything taller than Arnold Schwarzenegger, helps me forget, takes me away to a moment where I’m not trapped in my thoughts.
In Afghanistan, life was so simple. It’s different for everyone, but I needed to be away and work hard to keep my mind at ease. The same girl/woman was engaged to me again and broke up with me on the day I was leaving for Afghanistan. We built airfields. I would eat breakfast, spend 4 hours laying runway and yelling at the crews who were “voluntold” to help us, lunch, lay more runway until sundown and then sink into the easiest sleep you could ever imagine. Never a dull moment, hardly any communication back home, some excitement with bombs going off in the distance, bright stars in the desert and a gym made up of scrap wood, metal and some donations. It’s like going out to the white mountains and not having any cell phone network for 7 months. Liberating. A fresh pair of socks was like the heavens opening up.
The point of this post is that everyone once in a while it all comes back. That is why I started writing again two days ago because I need to talk about the stories and try to remember again. Face the reality and write of the pain. I’m not sure if I can say everything on this blog or if I need to and will. The time I walked into my Marine shop, late, drunk, unshaven and flipped a table during a meeting. I don’t remember the table, but there are many witnesses. Lost more than my request for a Japanese driver’s license. Or I found out that my fiancee was actually 16, while I was 23. She and her parents had lied to me, but. . . but I broke up with her because I felt trapped and was afraid. Weakness. I let it all destroy me, trying to make it work, but I cracked that one, and I drank myself to hell again. Spent all my money on the elixir and the rest of my enlistment trying to get back with her, debasing myself at times.
The intent of this blog is to help people get some realistic advice on topics that every runner has questions on from time to time. I have read many books about running and have focused largely on authors that provide answers backed by studies and/or success using the technique, specifically. Not like I iced my leg and suddenly I ran a great marathon. Correlation required. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll try to find out for you, but I do not practice medicine or physical therapy, so it won’t be full of complicated terminology. In addition, I would like to bring some light and optimism into this world. The above was written here to cleanse my pallet, so I can live to write about something else tomorrow. Might run my first long run in around 6 months today! Until next time. . .
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