Following my first 50-mile race, the insights on perseverance and resilience didn’t immediately influence my drinking habits. Truthfully, I was still drinking a bit at that time. However, about a month after the race, as my birthday approached—a time when drinking was typically abundant and part of my traditions—I noticed a change. For the first time, I could genuinely converse with myself about what I wanted before entering into that time of the year. Previously, I could acknowledge that I didn’t want to drink, but at some level I never took it seriously. At some point in my birthday month a few days after a night of drinking, I simply said, “Hey, this isn’t exactly what you’re going for this year,” and it really hit me. I almost felt confused as if a new person had entered the conversation about my drinking. Someone with a different perspective and that demanded my attention.

I believe this impact came from the consistent training and spending time in an environment where I could have open, non -judgmental, and honest communication with myself. Almost more of an observation of myself than a conversation. A curiosity to know me more. My increased time running on trail was doing that for me and developing my ability to observe and understand myself. This skill, which took me both a significant amount of time and space to even remotely develop, is not always glorious or pleasant. It was also not an unfamiliar process. Once again I had spent plenty of time outside in introspection prior to this and gotten to this place of observation a bit, but the difference now was the consistently. The training and working towards a goal forced me to show up consistently in this space and engage. The more consistently I showed up for myself, the more ability I had to generate that conversation and observation I needed to be able to tell myself with authority it was time to stop.

As that month dragged on distinctly remember throughout it drawing on the memory of the pain and discomfort from my race. Through this separation I was able to generate and ability to observe myself I was also better able to abstract my expierence to provide better insights for this challenge of not drinking. I was realizing more and more that this effort was no different. I would mentally transport myself to those last ten miles of the race, struggling in discomfort, and utilize that mindset to the present moment. I drew on that experience, recognizing that discomfort will eventually go away just like it did in that 50 miler. I started to see throughout that month that it was my choice of when I wanted it that discomfort to go away. I could drop out of the race and get off my feet, or I could push through to the end. Either way, the discomfort would end, but the timing was up to me. That was under my control

There is, of course, discretion in this choice. We can push beyond our capacity and cause injury, but growth will always come second to discomfort. With an increased ability to recognize my own discomfort, I leaned in and started making progress. Leaning into discomfort became a powerful tool for me. It wasn’t about seeking out pain for its own sake but about understanding that discomfort is further a signal for me that there is something to explore. I started to learn to embrace it in running and early sobriety rather than shy away from it.

In my running, leaning into discomfort meant pushing through those tough miles when my body wanted to quit. It meant trusting in my training and my resilience, knowing that each step forward, even if that was slowing down or stopping, was a step towards my goal. In my sobriety, it meant facing social situations with confidence, armed with the knowledge that I had the strength to choose what was best for me, even when it wasn’t easy.

When I made it through that day of not drinking, I found that the cravings eventually ended, and the world kept going. This realization, again seems incredibly straightforward, but the impact is profound when you get up the next day not hungover and still functioning. When I can’t get out of my own way these revelations often present this way. Like taking care of an easy fix around the house you have been putting off for weeks or months. It is just staring at you, you know what to do, but you never seem to get there. I had feared that resisting the urge to drink would leave me feeling isolated or deprived, but instead, I found a new sense of empowerment even if it came at the price of discomfort or pain. The cravings passed, and life continued as normal.