One Day

Most of my friends are alcoholics and drug addicts.

We either shine or we die.

K and I climbing in Big C

I just finished running in the rain and thinking of my friend.
It will suffice to call him K.
Those who know him will know.
During the summer of 2013 we rock climbed like kids trying to beat a Nintendo game.
He had been sober for 1 year.  He was getting strong.  He is an athlete to the core.
He is 6'2" of muscle and resolve.

There were three of us.
I'll call her Tiny.  Those who know her will also know.
She was just coming back to life after an overdose.

He called me one day and said,
"Tiny needs a friend.  She loves you.  You should call her.  We should go climbing."
I had a list of justifiable hesitations, but the simple fact is:  I love her too.  So I called,
"K says we need to go climbing together."
"Yes, I think we do," she said.
Thus began our adventure.
It was the kind of summer they make movies about, that I've read in books.
It was the Sandlot.  It was My Side of the Mountain.  It was Goonies and Karate Kid.  We were the Outsiders, and I have never been more gold.
We stayed dirty.  We were perked up, ready to throw our gear in the car and drive to the mountains.

In my most peaceful spot

He pushed us, he yelled at us, he filled us to the brim with compliments.  He saw the nuances of movement which only a coach can perceive.
We climbed until our hands gave out under the granite and our forearms were coke bottles full of blood.
I always left blood on the rock, and the distinct smell of adrenaline-laced sweat.
Sometimes he yelled at us.  Sometimes he made Tiny climb when she really wanted to cry.
We would do the same sequence 15 times until it was fluid.
He sent us up routes we knew we couldn't ascend, and we made it.
We went to the desert in Southern Utah and climbed on Potash road at sunrise.

Me doing the same sequence for the 10th time
This was a good day

While K racked up his gear, Tiny and I exchanged timid smiles which said,
"Well, here we go...I guess."


In return, we mothered him.  We listened to his monologues of self-doubt.
We accepted him in every form, and he had many.
Grouchy.  Up-beat.  Hesitant. Introspective. Scared.
To us it was all good, because it was all honest.
When he struggled, we reminded him, at least you are here.  You are sober.  You are climbing strong.  You are making progress.
Above all, we trusted him.
We rappelled off 300 foot sandstone in Lake Powell.
We went up every route he set for us, and we gave him every ounce of our strength.
He was our coach, and our friend.

I have hardly climbed at all, since he started using drugs again.
I don't really want to.

K and Tiny

Tiny and I went a few times, determined to continue what we started.
The energy just wasn't there.
We drove down the canyon trying to feel triumphant, but I know we felt the same thing:  Lost.

Now I am getting strong again.
I've been going to Boot-camp workouts with a group called Fit to Recover.
We push each other past what we could do alone.
Every Saturday morning at 10 a.m. I go to the park and sweat into the grass.
I sweat for K.  I sweat for Tiny.
It's not the same, but I don't expect anything ever will take the place of that summer in the mountains.
It is helping though.
I feel the same momentum in my body, and it propels me to reach further.

I am nagging Tiny to come, but her heart has yet to find it's way back to her muscles.  I'm not worried about her though.  She is hearty like me.  She will fight the apathy because she knows the truth.
The truth is:  Any alcoholic.  Any drug addict.  Is blessed to have one day.  One day to be strong.  One day to love their family.  One day to be well, and not sick.  One day to progress.

https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/fit-to-recover-salt-lake-city-s-only-sober-gym