A few months after I got sober, I decided I needed to run a half-marathon. I was riding the “pink cloud” of recovery, high on life and very enthusiastic about living free and clear of alcohol. The early days of sobriety had been so tough, and I was so thrilled to be beyond them, that it seemed easy to comprehend running 13 miles. <\/p>\n
And run it, I did. I even set a personal record. I remember that day as a cool and crisp October morning full of feelings, with me teary-eyed and triumphant at the finish line. I was the poster child for healthy, sober living. <\/p>\n
Now, 14 years later, I run my daily two and a half miles, and my finish lines are sometimes full of gasps and wheezing. But still, I do it. I have to. It’s part of my recovery.<\/p>\n
Lots of people in recovery embrace a fitness habit when they give up alcohol. There are plenty of reasons for this. We have a new hole in our lives, an absence of drinking needs to be filled, and why not do so with something that sparks dopamine<\/a> and aligns perfectly with our new, healthier path? When I first got sober, I signed up for races all the time because I needed goals<\/a>. I needed to devote hours to a new habit because my calendar was no longer doused in wine, and I had a lot of time on my hands. I needed structure and routine in my life, and this was the perfect way to get there. I got a little obsessive about my times and PRs, perhaps substituting a new addiction<\/a> for my old one, but athletically, so it was OK.<\/p>\n Now, 14 years later, my runs are not half-marathons. They are three-mile jogs around my neighborhood. And they are not as fast. This is due to menopause<\/a>, which seemed to hijack my body, making it tired and wonky. My balance is off on some days. I often start my runs by muttering “Don’t fall” while I maneuver the sidewalks. I also walk intermittently during my runs, which my younger self would think is inexcusable. But these days, I don’t pay much attention<\/a> to my fleetness or PR’s. I don’t even use a watch or wear the latest gear. I run, patiently and methodically, with much less speed and a lot more wheezing. But still, I do it.<\/p>\n