100 Words Per Mile: My Second Half Marathon
Some brief thoughts on Chris Adrian, competitive spirit, and the American Dream.
December 10, 2021
5.00 miles
41:08
I decided one more short run would be a good idea before the half marathon on Sunday, if only just to shake any rust off and ensure I’m ready to really run. A year ago, my plan was to simply finish the thing in a timely manner. Now that I’ve run one, I want to beat my previous time.
I’ve been talking to my baby brother a lot. Almost daily, in fact. He has access to tablets that allow him to video chat or send text messages (all for a price, of course). It’s bizarre, to think about how much we speak now, and how all it took was his going to jail.
At this point, he’s the most sober he’s ever been. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in voice, see it on his skin. According to him, he’s already putting on weight, but still weighs less than I do.
I’m hoping the sobriety is a revelation for him. I know that when I’m in the throes of an addiction (even something as small as baseball cards), everything starts to slip away from the periphery. It can consume you, alter your decision-making on a fundamental level, and cause you to do things you wouldn’t normally do.
I’ve never done drugs the way my brother has. I can’t imagine what kind of narrow-minded space he’d been occupying before going to jail. That, compounded with the fear and inability to face the realities of any given situation—it’s no wonder he ended up here.
By the time gets out, he’ll be at least a year sober. A drinker myself, the most I’ve gone without alcohol has probably been a few weeks, and that was a couple of years ago. I stopped drinking to see if it would make a difference for my sperm. The motivation for me to put down the bottle was clear and necessary, and yet, it was still a struggle for me.
I had to drink those dumb non-alcoholic beers just to placate me.
A friend of mine is approaching his two year anniversary of not drinking (though he still enjoys edibles here and there), but the not drinking has been huge for him. He went from one of those wallowing, self-pitying depressed types to someone who is not only married, but the legal father to his wife’s daughter. He just put a down payment on a house. My guy has really turned things around.
The world feels less and less forgiving. My little brother is a good kid who fucked around and fell too deep into an escape. We’re all looking for an escape. I just hope that after he serves his time that someone will offer him the forgiveness he not only needs, but will deserve.
Shame is a powerful deterrent, from both misbehavior and happiness. There are people who’d entered and exited my life who probably think the worst of me, and those people have every right. But if only they knew the shame I carried with me, maybe we could make amends. Maybe I could make amends with the entire world.
