Running;  I’m a believer in its therapeutic power. I’ve learned a lot about myself on the side of the road these last 10 years. Training for and running in marathons has helped me stomp out the minor cravings that come from time to time. If you’re a drug addict, alcoholic or none of the above, running will make your life better, I promise. 

              Lately I’ve been running the 5 miles home on my lunch break, grab a quick shower and head back. These 65 degree November days wont last, so I’m soaking them in while I can. Last  Monday I noticed this bottle of pills just off the shoulder of the road. I’d made a goal to maintain an 8 1/2 minute pace on my run, so I couldn’t stop to inspect. On Tuesday’s run I felt really strong, so I thought I’d try to beat my time from the day before, no time to stop. Wednesday I got started late so for sure couldn’t stop to inventory the  roadside stash. Thursday I don’t know if I even looked down at them. Friday came and after a half day of work I took off on my final 5 miler home for the week. My only goal on Friday, no walking, I hadn’t walked all week and didn’t want to now. I blew by the pill bottle, but the hill on the other side of the river won. I had to walk for about 2 minutes and then I finished my run. 5 days and 25 miles, far from the number of miles I log when training for a marathon, but this was big for a different more important reason. I didn’t really think much about it until today, Monday of a new week. Today as I ran home on my lunch break I stopped, and picked up the lonely bottle of pills. What are they? Did someone lose them? Did an angry spouse launch them out of a moving  car’s window? Or maybe, like I’d done many times before, somebody threw them out the window as they promised God and anyone else listening they’d never use again. I don’t know, but this bottle with the label peeled off jolted my brain, and took me down a manic memory lane……….      

                1983 was when I fell in love with the pills in the burnt orange bottle. It was after a football game my senior year. I picked up the phone and it was a good friend on the other end. “My mom just gave me a pill for my back, you gotta come try one.” I don’t know if those were his exact words, but I do remember taking the pill and I loved it immediately. It was the same feeling I had experienced with my first couple beers earlier that year. Some of you will know what I’m talking about, it was like I found the missing piece of me. How could something that made me feel so good end up stalking me for years to come and eventually turn on me? At first we were partners, we could do anything together I thought. The drugs made me stronger, smarter, more friendly, outgoing, uninhibited. But 20 years later, when it was all said and done I was a slave, I’d do anything to try and refill that void that had returned and grown even bigger. Without you I was in pain, but you were also the very cause of my pain. I’d do anything to get you and to hide our bipolar relationship from everyone in my life. So many twisted, ugly memories, and yet they are experiences I never want to forget, I just can’t afford to. 

              Kaden was almost 3 when he helped me pass a random drug test. My number came up, so when lunchtime came I had to move quick. The test had to be done by 5, so lunch was my only chance. I hustled home from work to get Kaden to go with me to Brigham for my UA. We stopped at the gas station on the way out, I grabbed a snickers and a couple  bottles of bug juice, the kind I knew he loved. He pounded it so fast, I  reloaded him with another to get as much fluid in him as possible. When we arrived in Brigham at the hospital I stuck the snickers in my pocket and put Kaden on my shoulder and told him to lay down. He was kind of shy and I knew he would lay there with his head on my shoulder and not want to look at anyone. After waiting my turn we filled out our paperwork, they handed me the cup and smiled at the cute little boy laying on my shoulder, then into the bathroom we go. ‘Ok dude, let’s see how big you are, pee in this cup and dad will let you have this snickers.’ Boom, done, out the door and back to work. Kaden got his candy bar and a belly full of bug nectar. I got what I needed,  his good clean 2 year old urine and a pass, life was good for a minute as we jumped back on the freeway heading north. It worked so well, but I knew I couldn’t pull that one again, they’d get suspicious if I brought the dude with me all the time. Better get a plan b.       

                            ‘Who can fill the cup’ was the game I came up with another day when my number came up. I don’t remember who won, but I know I ended up with enough of the good stuff to pass another test. Here’s how it went. I gave each of my kids a cup, Kaden was probably 3, Kenzie 6, and Taylor 9 years old. They would often ask why I had to go “pee in a cup.” One day I remember using their curiosity to my advantage. “The hard part is filling the whole cup, you guys want to try?” “Pee in this cup and then yell at me when you’re done so I can see who the winner is.” After I crowned the winner I took their offering and carefully poured it into a rubber glove. I grabbed some tape and out the door I went. Here is the problem, when you do a drug test they check the temperature to make sure it’s in the normal range. This prevents people from using someone else’s urine that’s brought in secretly. I had a solution, I stopped at the convenience store and grabbed a big cup of coffee. I poured half of it out, then submerged the tied off rubber glove in the hot coffee. Hopefully this would keep it warm for the trip down to Brigham. 

             Upon arrival at the hospital I remember scouting around for a bathroom I could use to gear up. When I was safely locked in the stall I removed the rubber glove from my coat pocket. Dropped my drawers and very carefully taped it to the inside of my leg. After situating my situation, I headed to the lab for testing. I filled out my paperwork, hung up my coat, and they sent me in. I carefully clipped the end of one of the fingers of the glove and loaded the cup with enough to be tested. I drained the rest out in the toilet, and tried to zip up and get out before raising suspicion. I wasn’t allowed to flush the toilet when done, It was the collectors job to check the bowl for any foreign objects (like rubber gloves) and then flush after inspection. I remember the wonderful feeling of urine dripping from the glove still taped to me and running down my leg while I waited for the technician to check the temperature range. “Close enough” she said, and I was free to go. I hobbled to my truck with pee soaked underwear but feeling the satisfaction of another successful test.

                When judge Wilmore found out I was drinking while sentenced to drug court, he ordered me to start taking Antabuse. Antabuse is a drug designed to make drinking alcohol miserable. It causes some pretty unpleasant side effects. Every month I was to fill my prescription and take the bottle to the people at the health department. Each day at lunch I had to go take my pill and be observed taking it by one of the department staff. Well, it didn’t take me long to figure my way around this one. After filling my prescription at the pharmacy, I bought some generic pain reliever that basically looked the same as the Antabuse pills. I dumped the Antabuse in the trash and filled the bottle with my counterfeit buzz killers. Now, when I showed up each day with a smile on my face to take my required dose, I knew I could drink all night and not be bothered by any unsavory side effects. As I look back, this is a tough one to process. These people thought they were honestly helping me put the pieces back together and really I was just mocking them each time I showed up to play the game. I know they must have felt betrayed when it finally came to light what I was doing. I don’t remember how it all went down but when the judge found out, he locked me up for 30 days. It was sort of the beginning of the end as each subsequent jail stay would get longer and longer.            

              Back on the side of the road, looking down at this bottle of potential destruction. It occurs to me that I don’t even know what these pills are. You know how a drug addict finds out what they are?  Yes, you guessed it, swallow a couple and see what happens. Pure craziness but that is exactly what I would have done 15 years ago, eat some roadside discarded meds not knowing what might happen next. Insanity.
               It’s been a month now since I found that bottle. For 5 straight days I just passed it by. I simply didn’t have time to give it any attention. I was busy trying to get stronger; physically, mentally, spiritually. Instant gratification is the polar opposite of what I desire now and hope to keep desiring. Nothing good comes quick or easy, the only lasting change comes from putting in the work, day after day. It’s a principle that applies to every aspect of my life;  running, work, fatherhood, prayer and to being a good husband, there isn’t a short cut. It truly is more about the journey than some perceived destination, and as hard as it is at times, I love the journey.            

                 I’m sitting here looking at this beautiful Christmas tree in our new home and marveling at the craziness of life. How could I have been so handcuffed by that ugly orange plastic full of white pills? Where would we be if I hadn’t made so many mistakes?  Oh dear God,  what else did I do that I just don’t remember?  Have I really changed or am I just pushing through like a never ending marathon, just ‘one footin it.’ Some days that’s all it is, one foot in front of the other. Most days, I’d say at least 9 out of 10, I’m struck by the multitude of beauty and blessings that surround me. My ‘honey badger’ wife, my absolutely exceptional children and my 3 perfect grandsons; Finley, Theo and Grady. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, I just can’t thank God enough. At times, (usually on the 1 out of 10 days when I’m one footin it), I tell Jill I’d really like a ‘do over.’ But then I quickly remember that my past is what helped create my present, and this life with these people, my present, is all I’ve ever wanted.