I did not plan to be in the throes of marathon training when my one-year not-drinking anniversary came around, but I can’t imagine any better way for it to have turned out. My mind is full of sporty thoughts with which drinking is mutually exclusive. That’s handy, because I can tell that this one-year thing could become a huge big deal if I allowed it. I mean, it could become a huge big deal in the “what the hell am I doing” sense rather than the “that’s great” sense. I’m not feeling particularly celebratory at all -- more like alert and suspicious of myself. What am I up to?

I decided that this is a good time to do some rededication activities. I’ll do some of the Smart Recovery recommended reading that I considered too corny a year ago. Guess what? I’m all kinds of corny now. I run around in the freezing cold at 6 a.m. chanting positive self-talk and practicing visualizations of myself completing the marathon. I’m the corniest one in the corn tree.

It’s tempting to think of the marathon as a healing or bridging experience, from my old life to my new life. I mean, in some ways it definitely is. But I don’t want to lull myself into thinking that I’ll pop through the finish line into a world where I’m normal and my problems are solved. The truth is that after the marathon I’ll probably feel a little deflated and depressed and I’ll have a lot of free time. That’s not a good combination. Now is the time to be planning a new project for after the marathon. This time it will be a project that will not involve severe body pain.

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