Hitting My Stride

In an effort to keep this blog meaningful I have tried to only post when I have some new insight to offer.  Some of you have noticed that my posts are coming slower and slower – please take this as a positive sign.  Sobriety is become a normal part of my life.  I am adapting and honestly, there is little to report.

The new year has just begun, and it’s safe to assume some folks will stumble upon this blog as they try to navigate a January resolution to quit drinking.  If I am right about this, someone reading this is mucking through the first terrifying, shaky days of sobriety.  Is this you? You are not alone!  You are not a freak! You are not strange or even all that unique.  You got yourself into something very normal and there is a normal, tried and true process to get you out.  My friend, hang on.  Stay the course.  Keep the carbs and the water and the tissues handy and you will make it through.

You are doing something very, very good for yourself and you will not regret it.  Your life will be better, your body will be healthier, and your spirit will be stronger.  You will get yourself back.

I’ve spent the holidays at our ski cabin in the mountains, where happy hour starts as soon as the lifts shut down.  We gather to eat and drink, visit and drink, play board games and drink, listen to music and drink.  Drink in the hot tub then have a nightcap before bed.  This year, though, I am drinking pop or tea or sometimes even nothing at all.

I began my journey last year just as ski season ended and I truly wondered how on earth I would survive the season ahead.  By the time the hill opened again, I had 9 months of sobriety under my belt and everything has gone smoothly.  Everyone around me now knows I don’t drink, though few know all the details.  They all respect my decision, but no one seemed to think I had a big problem to begin with.  That’s okay, though.  They don’t need to know everything.  I know, and that’s enough.

I keep equating the experience to running.  I am not a serious runner by any means.  After I turned 40 I realized it was going to take more effort to stay in decent shape.  Running is quick exercise and doesn’t require me to drive anywhere special or face other people.  I prefer my elliptical because it’s gentler on the old bones, truth be told, but if the sun is shining I’ll head outside.  So let’s establish that I am a runner who would rather not run.

For me, the very hardest part of the run is getting off the couch in the first place.  “Just put down the latte and get outside,” I’ll tell myself.  The mental bargaining begins – talking myself in and out of going out for the run, all the while knowing I’ll be glad once I do it but still resisting the effort.  That’s a lot like it was talking myself in and out of quitting drinking.  Half of the battle was just working up to the realization that I needed to change things.

I was very confused and conflicted for a long time over whether I needed to quit drinking because I had mistakenly thought I had to be an alcoholic or hit “rock bottom” in order to quit.  I was definitely experiencing addictive behaviour towards alcohol but there was no “rock bottom” in sight and I didn’t truly fit the alcoholic profile.  I could see, however, I was drinking more and more and it seemed just a matter of time before things got worse. Everything I read seemed geared towards people who’d hit the bottom.  Did I need to wait until I was there in order to quit?  That made no sense but then came 4 o’clock and I’d shrug my shoulders and pour a drink.

Eventually I decided not to wait any longer.  If I wanted to change my life I could start where I was at, just as someone who wants to weigh 150 lbs can start working on that any time – they don’t have to wait until they are 300 lbs. to start the diet.  Once you know where you want to be, you can get up and start heading there.  Waiting and falling further behind makes no sense.

When I do finally get out there to run, the first bit is the worst.  I constantly check my watch and gulp for air.  My body seems determined to convince me it’s a mistake to exercise.  I notice every pain and gasp, and time seems to pass so slowly.  The first few months of recovery were just like that – I felt every discomfort and the hours crept by.  I wondered what I the hell I had gotten myself into.  I could not imagine ever enjoying myself again. Marathon runners and sober people all seemed a mysterious lot – were they faking their supposed joy in a miserable existence?  Or had they actually found pleasure in the struggle?

A ways into the run, it gets easier.  You hit your stride and get lost in thought.  Your legs take over and it almost feels like you’re along for the ride.  There’s noting hard about it.

That’s where I feel I am at right now – I’m off the couch, I’m through the worst of it.  I’m cruising along and now all I have to do is make sure I keep going.

A few months ago, living day after day without the comforts of wine seemed impossible.  I never dreamed I could be happy at all, that it would be effortless.  It is, though.  It’s just who I am, what I do.  I am right handed, I wear blue jeans, I drive a Subaru, part my hair off-centre, take cream in my coffee, have crooked toes, speak English (with a Canadian accent, apparently) and I don’t drink alcohol anymore.  That’s me, and I am great with who I am.


  1. Thank you for your vivid analogies. I too enjoyed jogging for some time (my husband says I can’t say I am a runner because “runners” run 8 minute miles or less. He says I am a “jogger”) I say “tomato/toe-mato” aka “whatever!” Anyhow, I think I lost myself for so many years fulfilling the parenting role. Now that I am an empty nester I am trying to figure out what I even like to do. I was always the one running around meeting everyone’s needs and did not participate in the activity (like boogie boarding in the ocean) because I was up on the beach setting out sandwiches and applying sunscreen to my babies. Now I hear from my adult daughters that “mom doesn’t like the ocean”. I say, “I love the ocean, I just loved you more”. My drinking became nightly when my second daughter left the nest. I was like, “what now?” I have also lived my life being the person others wanted me to be. You mentioned how important it was to be liked. I too live to be accepted. I grew up in a very authoritative household and feared my father. My goal was to just “not get in trouble”. I stopped drinking for a month and started to have better sleep, less aches and pains, but the reality of how disappointed with my life is staring me in the face, how unfulfilled my marriage is, the few friends I have I don’t really even like and my job is so stressful. Then I started back up again and am just so mad at myself. Usually it is 2 glasses of wine. So sorry for the rant. I have read all of your blogs up to this one and pray one day I can say I am a non-drinker. I feel like if I could choose my friends, I would choose you. Thank you


  2. I’ve been reading all your entries from the beginning and have found a lot of similarities in our stories, and comfort in your words. Your running analogy really spoke to me. I’m the same kind of reluctant runner that you are. I remember when I first started running I felt like I was dying with every step. Running onto a side walk from the street felt like a hill. Now, I can honestly say I like running and it feels good. As someone who is on day 22 of her sobriety, it is hard to imagine feeling comfortable and not thinking about everything I can’t have. Now I can see that it will get easier for me just like running. ..and I couldn’t believe that that was possible either. Thank you again, and congratulations on your sobriety!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Love your post. You’ve laid out your heart and soul and it will be an inspiration to anyone who is seeking a similar path. I’ve felt addicted to my daughter’s addiction for a period of time and needed to let go. Replacing any habit that isn’t working with a new positive habit helps. I found journaling, exercise and pursuing my spiritual side helped me. I know it’s coming from a little different perspective, but the idea is the same. Happy 2012 to you!


  4. I found my way to this post via Jon’s blog and am grateful I took the time to read it. A great inspiration, and I wish you all the best for this new year of 2012.

    Take care!


  5. well I’m another thankful blogger, to have received your post today. I too will share it on my blog site. You are indeed an inspiration. Happy 2012 to you!


  6. Enjoyed reading this post, I hope you post more often

    When I sobered up, I did not seem to anyone around me to be in any kind of trouble. My health was good, I had a demanding job and a lovely home, friendship and a busy travel schedule. But the damage was all on the inside and it was much more severe than I thought. Nearly five years later, I know how lucky I was to sober up before things got worse.


  7. Thank you! This post is exactly what I needed to read. I love the running analogy and when 4:00 hits today, I will think of that and find a way to keep my legs moving.


    • Thanks for sharing my post. I checked out some of your posts – my internet here keeps crapping out! I will keep reading and you keep on keeping on, okay? You will get there.


  8. Love the analogy and I think this was awesome to put out there Jan. 1, for anyone stumbling around the internet. You definitely are a great example of sobriety! 🙂


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