100 days and counting...

(video only for background music, you don't have to watch it)

The last thing I did before I left my apartment in Barcelona for the airport was puke my guts out from the hangover. The last thing I did before I got on line to go through security was to smoke a cigarette. That was 101 days ago, and today makes 100 days that I've been sober and smoke free.

One hundred days beats my previous record of eighty-four days (winter 2007), which beat seventy-something days (summer 2006), which beat 69 days (summer 2005), which was the longest I'd gone without drinking since I was 16. How can I be so sure of the days and seasons? Because I was always holding it for an event, and once the event was over I'd hop gleefully off the wagon and you wouldn't see me without my best friend, the Bottle, for months. The idea of not having an end date was just TOO frightening... See? I can quit any time I want! I've got it under control. Now leave us, me and the Bottle would like to be alone together.

But this time there's no set expiration date, and that's scary. The funny thing is that when I came home hoping to set up a life where I would quit drinking for good, things started to come together: I got a job that paid well enough to start a savings account, I figured out how to enjoy running and started getting faster, I started losing weight, I could finally fall asleep, and through some miracle, I'm injury free. Come to think of it, I couldn't come up with a better list of new year's resolutions than to get out of debt, run faster, lose weight (of course!), get enough sleep, and avoid injury. So it seems that the only new year's resolution that I need to make is to make it through 466 dry days (it's a leap year), but it's easier said than done.

In social situations, special occasions, beer commercials, when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm stressed, when I'm bored, when I walk past a liquor store with all its pretty, shiny bottles, the idea pops into my head, "Wouldn't a beer or 8 be great right now?" Because it's never just one... And then I have to pour a figurative bottle of ice water down my mental pants. Sometimes it's hard to snap out of it.

I know what you're thinking, "This is what they have AA for, Claire". Well, duh, but hanging out with a a group of alcoholics talking about drinking doesn't really sound to me like a good way to distract myself and network with people who have a healthy sense of self-worth. Anyway, who wants to sit around listening to people talk about how they ruined their lives? Boo hoo. No. Thank. You. And Claires don't get along with shrinks either. The way I see it, if there's a problem, you decide what needs to be done, do it, and move on. There isn't much to be gained from dwelling on the past.

Nah, I've got my rehab, and you read about it right here. If I keep setting lofty goals, and looking forward to weekend workouts and races, I seem to be okay... most of the time. But a year is a long time. And the rest of my life is even longer... It's like saying goodbye to a good friend who you know will always take you back, after no matter how long, with just a phone call. Sometimes just the sight of my driver's license sets me off. It seems to be smiling up at me saying, "Remember me? You used to take me out all the time. I'm so lonely in this plastic case. You haven't swiped my magnetic strip in so long... I'm beginning to wonder if you even love me!"

This all reminds me, Phoenix has put out a call to all heroes. She is asking anyone interested to write down their story about how they were their own knight in shining underarmour and saved their own lives (literally or figuratively) through sport (or anything else for that matter). I know that many of us do this sport for reasons similar to my own: that if you didn't, your life just wouldn't be worth living. Or as Angry put it, "If you don't run, you do stupid shit". If you're interested in sharing your story, check out Phoenix's page for more details, then tell us about YOU.