Run Interrupted

For my easy runs, I head to Kings Park High School and run several laps along the perimeter around the field. It's a fairly flat run and the soft grass is easy on my legs. With each perimeter measuring slightly less than a mile, gauging my effort and pace is simple. The bus fumes by the back field can be tough on tired lungs, but otherwise it's an enjoyable workout.

Wednesday morning was perfect for the High School run: the early temperature was in the upper 40's, enabling me to run comfortably in shorts and a long sleeved tee-shirt. And since the School was closed for Winter Recess, the morning air was crisp and free of exhaust.

As I often do, I picked up empty water bottles and other refuse while I ran, depositing the trash in the garbage cans as I finished each lap. When I reached the fence by 25A, I spotted the bottle pictured beside this article and rolled it over with my foot. At first I thought it was a vitamins or an over-the-counter medication, but when I turned it over, I saw the somewhat obliterated label. The letters that remain appears to be part of the word "hydrocodone." The label also warns: "may be habit forming." Both the name of the individual to whom it was prescribed and the name of the doctor who prescribed it were removed.

According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse, hydrocodone is an opioid drug that is usually prescribed for pain relief. Because opioid drugs work on the same receptors as heroin, they are highly addictive. Hydrocodone is often mentioned with other opioid drugs, like Oxycodone, and is often sold as Vicodin, as well as other names. A Drug Enforcement Agency fact sheet states that hydrocodone"is the most frequently prescribed opioid in the United States and is associated with more drug abuse and diversion than any other licit or illicit opioid." Many studies have found that prescription drug abuse by teens has increased by high percentages in recent years.

I can't say I was surprised when I found the bottle. After all, recent articles on the Patch and in other local publications have revealed that many young adults in our community have been connected to heroin. Additionally, teenage drug use has been prevalent since long before I was in high school. Plus the bottle could have been thrown over the fence by anyone passing by. Yet, I couldn't help but feel vulnerable.

Like most parents, I like to think that my kids are insulated from drug use, and that it's only a certain kind of kid that smokes pot, binge drinks and pops pills. I like to believe that my wife and I raised our kids to be strong enough to resist peer pressure and the temptation of a quick buzz. I hope that by being involved in their lives and encouraging them to pursue athletics and other interests, we have given them the tools necessary to lead productive and engaging lives, and that they have no reason to seek the empty escape promised by intoxication.

But deep down I know that a large part of the battle against drugs depends on access. Temptation is proportionate to availability and opportunity. Kids can't get drunk unless someone gives them alcohol. Drugs can't be taken if there are none to be found. But there on the field, during the few minutes of contemplation and reflection I have each day, the ugly reality was laid bare at my feet less than 500 yards from our high school: the devil is at the door. We can only teach our kids and pray.

Hills Are For Climbing

The road that leads from the flag pole at Sunken Meadow State Park to the toll plaza is a hill about a mile long and a climb of nearly 200 vertical feet. Unlike the park's infamous Cardiac Hill, this hill doesn’t have a name; I just call it “the Hill”. The Hill will never be confused with Everest, but it’s no skip in the prairie either.

The Hill is an old friend. It’s been part of my running routine, off and on, for over 19 years. At first, I couldn’t make it to the top without stopping — both my lungs and legs burned and I staggered to a slow walk just to make it home. I hated the Hill back then and I would find any possible excuse not to run it.

Eventually, I missed running in the park — the lighted skyline of Connecticut on the horizon before dawn, the geese watching me as I passed – honking loudly if I stumbled too near, and the soft spongy grass, the dirt, the sand and the wood chips beneath my feet as I galloped down the roadway half way to the beach and then through the trails before turning back toward home.

Sometimes, I would drive to the park, avoiding the Hill altogether. But when I did, I felt cowardly, like I slipped onto the bus at the end of the school day and dodged the bully who was waiting to fight me. So, I started to force myself to run the Hill regularly.

For a while, I cursed and battled my way up, gasping and sputtering, and congratulating myself if I made it to the maintenance area or the turn off to the BOCES area without stopping. But these victories felt hollow, especially since I would still be gasping and wobbly legged when I reached the top. I wanted to run the Hill without stopping.

So I changed my approach. I stopped battling and I eliminated my anger. As I ran, I set my mind on working with the Hill, flowing up the incline rather than trying to beat it into submission. I began to appreciate the Hill’s nuances, the places where it was steeper and the places where it nearly leveled off. I’d feel the wind on my face and notice the beauty of my surroundings: the moon in the morning sky, the leaves turning colors, and the ground changing from solid frost to slushy marsh to arid plain as the seasons turned. I was patient, slowing down if I felt overly strained, speeding up when I felt strong. Soon, I regularly ran from the bottom to the top without stopping. Now I actually look forward to the challenge and the ridiculously hilly Annual Kings Park 15K has become my favorite race.

Eventually, I progressed from running a hill to climbing a mountain. In 2008, I hiked to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. There I learned the Swahili word poli, which means “slow” but really seems to encompass much more. Deliberate, patient and conscious might be better translations. The mountain guides repeated this word like a mantra during the eight days my group spent climbing the 19,230 feet to the summit. Poli helped us reach the top without suffering altitude sickness or life threatening pulmonary edema, which affects many who attempt to climb Kili. My reward was not only an unmatched view from the highest point on the African continent and the rapidly disappearing glacier at the top, but also a feeling of accomplishment and self confidence from enduring eight days traversing terrain varying from tropical rain forest to cold alpine desert.

Since then, I have come to see life as a series of hills, including job challenges, money issues, relationship struggles and many others. These challenges appear in our lives to help us grow. How we react to these challenges will determine not only whether we will make it to the top, but also whether we will live a full and vital existence or will instead be mired in a swamp of fear, anger and despair.

If you can’t identify any hills in your life, then you need to go out and find some. Dare to dream beyond what is routine and find something that intrigues or even scares you. Sometimes you won’t reach the top. Sometimes you will fail. But if you use your failure to learn and turn your fear into passion, you’ll soon see the path and succeed more often than not.

Don’t view the top of any hill as a destination, but just another step in a never-ending trail. Achieving goals breeds confidence. Continue to seek out larger goals and bigger dreams. By staying patient, conscious and deliberate—ignoring your ego and respecting the challenges you face—you will thrive and lead a life worth living.

Please comment and tell me about your hills!

Fear Itself

Fear is becoming an epidemic. Watch the news, read the papers and all you'll see is fear. The economy is spinning out of control, hundreds of thousands of people are losing jobs, terrorists threaten our daily existence, bacteria are becoming stronger and even the act of eating peanut butter has become risky. It's easy to get caught up in the hype, to let dread and despair seep to our very core.

Fear is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as "an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain or harm." But fear is supposed to be a temporary emotion, designed to signal our brain to take action to protect us from a dire situation. The natural purpose of fear is not to cause general malaise, depression and sleepless nights, nor is it to sell newspapers and generate television ratings.

So what can we do? Whether you are religious or not, great guidance can be found in The Serenity Prayer: "O God and Heavenly Father, to us the serenity of mind to accept that which cannot be changed; the courage to change that which can be changed, and the wisdom to know the one from the other." Simply put--worry about the things you can control and let the rest go.

The next step is more important. Once we have recognized what is within our control, we need to take action. Develop a game plan. If we think that we are going to lose our job, then we need to start saving money, start looking for another job or take steps to start a business. If we're fearful that our children may take drugs, we need to talk to them about the risks, analyze who their friends are and take steps to keep them out of situations where drug use might be encouraged. Sometimes we may need to make tough choices--putting off a vacation if we're worried about money, telling our kids "no" when they ask to go to a party we think is risky, even if "everyone else is going" and we're "ruining their lives".

I find it useful to look at my fears and think out the worst case scenario and figure out how I would deal with it. Take the loss of a job. The worst case scenario is that I wouldn't be able to afford my mortgage, my house would be foreclosed on, I would have to max out my credit cards and ultimately file for bankruptcy. What would I do then?

Well for starters, I'd find another job, even one that pays significantly less. I would have to move my family and we would most likely have to rent a house or apartment. I might have to ask my parents for help, maybe move in with them for a time.

None of this would be pleasant, but we would survive. Having a plan takes the edge off of the fear. It also inspires me to fight at all costs to prevent this from happening by working harder, saving more money, spending less and exploring other options for income. Dread and despair are human emotions that serve no biological purpose. A gazelle chased by a cheetah doesn't plop on the couch with a box of cookies and watch afternoon talk shows. It runs like hell and doesn't stop.

One of my dad's favorite quotes is from Frank Herbert's Dune: "Fear is the mind killer." Google that line or read the books; there is a lot more to it that's instructional on this topic. The key is to detach yourself from the emotion, look at the cause, free yourself from the paralysis and take action accordingly.

Back from Kilimanjaro

I returned from climbing Mount Kilimanjaro on February 27, 2008. The trip had a dramatic impact on me, and I am still trying to come to terms with the entire experience.

Never in my life have I been so singly devoted to a task. The focus that I maintained for 8 days--making it to the top of the mountain--was both liberating and demanding. Considering my usual, middle class, American lifestyle, devoted to absorbing and processing stimuli from many sources at the same time, the tunnel vision was a true vacation from the distractions of the mind. However, the effort was exhausting, 4 -10 hours of hiking a day, most of it done at elevations over 14,000 feet. My thoughts were devoted to walking slowly, breathing deeply, keeping warm or cool depending on the circumstances, and eating enough of the right foods to keep my engine humming.

The adjustment of returning to my family was difficult. They had continued with their lives, while I essentially put my own life on hold. It was the same at work with my staff. When I returned, I had many responsibilities to fulfill and I needed to make up for the tasks I had shirked while I was away. Yet, my tunnel vision remained, my focus refusing to broaden. Combined with my jet lag and physical exhaustion, I felt as if I was floating in an ether, seeing everything that was happening around me, yet not really fully integrated into the experience. It was a nice feeling, actually, very Zen.

I've tried to hold on to the feeling and have had some success, but slowly life has eroded my efforts to remain "present". However, several times during the course of each day, I am able to escape my thinking mind and reach outside of myself, viewing my circumstances and surroundings with detachment. I don't let experience alter the core of who I believe I am.

I'm in a better place now than before I went to Tanzania. In summiting the mountain and making peace with it, I have made peace with myself, as well.