Smoking Cessation Update Th 04.29.2011

OK, I promised accountability, and this is going to hurt. Yesterday I smoked 23 cigarettes and didn't notice any one of them. The habit is transparent, so it should be easier to quit than I expect.

Good news, went to my group swim lesson at Northwestern last night. Our Coach gave further instruction in freestyle stroke refinement and drills, then we worked on the backstroke. My private lessons begin tomorrow, Friday nights for five weeks.

Lane availability in the pool has been an issue for many years and I thought arriving at 4:30 am would allow for my own lane. Sadly, not the case. Long story short, have decided to swim after work, then go to the track for run workout. This encourages longer, varied training sessions, relieves boredom and repetition and allows for rush hour traffic to expire before my commute home. Winning all around.

So, workout this evening will be first in the pool:

3 x 50 Pull
2 x 50 kick
1 x 50 Fingertip drill
2 x 50 One armed drilled
2 x 50 Backstroke
1000 Freestyle
1 x 100 Cooldown

Drive to track and have snack in car.

3 (4x1/4 mile repeat) @ 3:00 min/ repeat
Cooldown

Home to Jack the dog!

OK, have a greast night and let's all train smart today. :)

Brian

Making the Moment

Life gives us moments. It's up to you to decide what to do with them.

It's been a long winter in Chicago and I've focused all my energy on just trying to manage, survive and stay functional. Winter in Chicago last from November to April and we're just now, on April 26, 2011, starting to see a breaki in the weather.

I set a goal for the New Year, no use of sick time at work unless completely necessary. It's a challenge as I have a history of taking afternoons off due to fatigue. Part of me thinks this is merely a habit. Habits can be broken. I'm pleased to announce that during the first four months of the year I have only used 1 day of sick time, and that was for a physical illness. My goal is to manage my mental illness so effectively that I do not draw negative attention to myself from my employer through unpredicable, random and chaotic use of sick time. It's a red flag.

Winter is for me, as it is for almost everybody, a season of drudgery. Ironically, the only thing I look forward to is shoveling snow because it breaks up the monotony of work, cold and commuting in the ice and sub-zero winds.

Winter also relegates us to indoor training, which is highly disagreeable to me. I need the outdoors. I need the sunlight, the winds, even the rains to make me feel alive and that I'm not toiling in vain during my workouts like a hamster on an exercise wheel or a rat pushing a button for a pellet. Thankfully, Spring is here and I've moved my workouts outdoors and increaseed the frequency and duration of the training events.

Somehow all the little things I noticed over the barren winter are paying off now. Dietary adjustments, sleep habits and workout routes are now manifesting themselves as training methods and resources. I learned four new biking routes and three new running routes. Sadly, the only swim outlet for me right now remains the pool at the gym, which is overcrowded. By June 1, I expect that the lake will be warm enough for swimming, so, problem solved.

Here's a HUGE lesson I learned over the winter: I drink to much coffee.

I'm compulsive. I smoke a lot and I drink coffee all day. Always sipping coffee. It's a big problem and has led to disciplinary issues at work. I work in a lab and have an egg-head, beaurocratric, by-the-book supervisor that is highly inconsistent. For years I kept a continually refreshed cup of hot coffeee in my lab with no problem. One day, he decided to crack down and began looking for anything he could find to correct.

I found this upsetting as I regularly receive good or above-average performance reviews and there has never been a quality or productivity issue with my performance.

It's embarrasing to admit, but I'm 43 and still have adolescent issues with authority. I resented his inconsistency and being pushed around. I complained to our Director, stating that I'm an adult and expect to be treated with the same dignity, civility and respect that I offer to my peers. The result was a discipilary meeting.

Long story short, something clicked and I decided to take charge of the situation. My first step was to switch to decaf. Can't explain why, but after a month of only one caffeinated cup of coffee each morning, I feel a tremendous pressure lifted from my psyche. I sleep better, think more clearly and am much less prone to aggrivation and hostility. Everything seems easier and more content.

I've learned that I can control my behaviors and not live at their mercy.

My next step is to eliminate smoking. This has been a goal for ten years and I've never quit trying to quit, but I have new inspiration as a result of knowing I can live, survive and thrive without caffeine.

Here is my offering to you as a reader of this blog. I will chart the number of cigarettes I smoke each day and post the result. This is my way of being accountable to you and to encourage you to make changes in your habits that may be holding you back.

Do we have a deal?

The Commitment

Competing in a triathlon was certainly an ambitious goal, but achieving that level of personal victory was destined to be hollow at best. If, after losing my mind, facing death and rebuilding myself into a pillar of strength and fortitude, the highest achievement I set for myself was to repeat a performance I had already completed, what was the point of growing at all?

I needed a new challenge, something beyond the level I knew. Something requiring the integration of dedication, determination and spirit that I was now capable of. I knew I had the tools, but didn't know how to demonstrate them. I needed a symbol, something recognizing the man I had become, the survivor I was, and the way I had learned to thrive against the odds in this world and in my own unbalanced mind.

Looking around my home, I was surrounded by elements from the past. The trophies, championship jersies, the long-retired basketball shoes were artifacts representing a variety of successes attained through physical exertion, but without brain power. I needed to add to my collection, to deepen the magnitude of accomplishment, to show what my new mind was capable of.

I wanted a medal.

I signed up for the Chicago Marathon and never looked back.

Committing to a marathon is a big deal. When you use the word commit near a psychiatric patient, it has many negative connotations. Enrolling myself as a participant in the marathon gave new meaning to the word committment, a positive connotation, and I felt a tremendous sense of victory in performing the act, feeling that I was taking back from the disillusioned public a word and an act that now belonged to me.

A Man for the Season

June 2001

I was a new man now, having faced death and survived my suicidal tendencies that led to the bipolar 1 diagnosis.

Having faced my demons and learned from them, the biggest and newest tools I armed myself with were patience, foresight and mental fortitude.

During the '98 and '99 triathlon seasons, I really didn't know what I was doing. I got by the way I always did in everything, through sheer guts, iron-will and what little god-given talent I had.

This season would be different, I surmised/reasoned. It wasn't a conscious choice, it was a result of the resilience and faith always lurking deep inside me that came to the forefront thanks to the effects of medication and the trust I had in my doctor. She was, and is, brilliant, effective, elegant, eloquent, practical and realistic. The dedication she showed as a doctor in treating me not only as a psychiatrist but as a counseler resulted in my developing faith in my abilities and judgement, in my aptitude and skill-sets, in the practicality of my goals and desires and the realities of my ambitions.

Instead of putting all my eggs in one basket and training for one target race, I scheduled four triathlons in the summer of 2001. This allowed me the luxury of having a bad race or experience and learning from it, then applying that experience to the next race. In the past, I would have scheduled one race, a make-or-break event that may have turned out well, or may have been a devastating defeat leaving in its wake a fall and winter of shame, regret and the hauntings of failure and unmet expectations. The long term commitment was now my modus-operandi and it resonated quite well with my perspective on a mentally healthy lifestyle.

Making the upgrade from one race to a season of four wasn't the bigggest challenge I laid out for 2001, however.

When the rubber meets the road

Now it was May 2001 and I was in great shape, or so I thought. I had trained for four months in the weight room and spent many hours in the pool, on the stationary bike and on the treadmill. Spring had sprung in Chicago and it was time to move out of the gym and take my act to the outdoors.


On a perfect Saturday morning I warmed up, laced up my shoes, said a prayer and went out for a run. During winter training, I was up to one continous hour on the treadmill and felt great. This day, I made it two blocks and almost had a heart attack. The stark reality is that running on a treadmill is no subsitute for road training because on the treadmill the belt moves with you, giving a false sense of achievement.

I was devastated. Four months of foundation work and I had to start over from scratch. Looking back on it, I showed resilience and good judgement because I just kept at it until I demonstrated progress, but it was mental torture. Within a month I was up to three miles and satisfied.

The biggest lesson I learned was that you can't recreate the past. Prior to diagnosis, I ran 7:30 miles in competition. After diagnosis, treatment and weight gain I ran 10:30 miles, but I was much more relaxed and confident in the act of running. For the first time it seemed like fun. It was also relaxing, more like a hobby than work.

I wasn't trying to fit a mold or be accepted by a group of faceless strangers while searching for some elusive Promised Land. I was just running because it was good for me and it felt good.

Week by week throughout May, my distances got longer and more pleasurable. I took pride in demonstrating the ability to repeat a performance, to show consistency and reliability.

Many studies and my psychiatrist's advice say that moderate to vigorous aerobic exercise is better than any anti-depressant medication, and this period proved that theory true. The hardest part was not over-doing it, trying to run faster or beyond realistic distance limits. It took faith and confidence in my new found judgement to know that enough was enough for one day and that there would always be a tomorrow. Regardless, I enjoyed the growth and maturity showed with my daily workouts, sonsidering them as essential as medicine and psychoanalysis, and also enjoyed feeeling good in a way I never imagined was possible.

Maybe it was a matter of over-optimism or searching once again for that elusive goal that would challenge me to push past my limits, but I wanted something big for myself, something beyond anything I had accomplished before.

The Comeback

January 1, 2001

With the new year off to a not so inspiring start, I had decisions to make and choices to face.

What was I going to do for a job? What was I going to do for a career? What was I going to do about this crazy chick I had living in my house?

With no commitments and some money in the bank, I realized I had the luxury of time, but not too much of it. I had the standard cost of living, plus the cost of doctor's visits and medication, plus the overwhelming cost of COBRA payments, an option that would be running out soon.

I realized I needed a career and I settled on computer programming. I would immerse myself in the Java programming language and become a master. But, per doctor's orders, I also needed regular exercise, one hour a day.

I went back to the gym and felt like a stranger in a strange land. It was quite disconcerting, having no idea how to manage an environment I once flourished in. By this time my weight was still up 40 pounds @ 186# and my body fat was off the charts. I was also smoking more than ever.

I wandered into the gym and saw something new, something that had been desirable but elusive in the past two years: an opportunity and environmnent in which to reinvent myself, to bounce back from the level I had acheived in the past and fly further and higher with wisdom as my guide. The entire environment seemed foreign to me and I didn't know where to begin as I had lost all memory of what were once my strengths, weaknesses and preferences.

I did have two distinct advantages: anononymity and a lack of expectations.

I went to the gym each day and tried something new, just to see what felt good and what was agreeable to me. I found that I had the ability to block out all the interference and distraction that came with the environment: the other members doing their workouts, the history of former results I had been a slave to for years. I also had the distinct advantage of having no model or goal for myself or what I wanted to become. I was just playing, getting my feet wet. The gym had three hours of free parking in the garage and I used them all every day, but when it was time to go I left and didn't give the day's workout another thought.

Due to relationship complications with the nutty woman living in my house ( that's a completely different story and probably best left untold), I never gave the Java language programming idea a true shot, but in it's absence I found myself getting hooked on exercise and being a gym-rat.

Slowly, so slowly I never noticed, the results began to come. Not in appearance, but in mental well-being. All of a sudden I had a new job: keeping fit, and I treated it like a job, with a schedule and performance reviews and every other standard of measure I could imagine.

In April, I passed my brother Tom and made a smart-ass response to one of his comments. He responded "It's nice to seee you're getting back to your old self". I replied "I've been myself for awhile now. Nobody noticed."

Limbo

I was released from the Field Service Engineer position with the Swiss printing press firm due to lack of enthusiasm. Apparently, my depression was still written all over my face and I had tried to change careers too soon.

.In August of 2000, two months into the job, my manager and his Director came to Cincinnati where we were doing a job and called me outside for a talk. He questioned whether I have the will to do the job.

I thought my record spoke for itself. In the months I was on the job, I was never late, never went home early and never took a day off. Looking back, my mistake was that I didn't socialize much outside of work. I'll forgive myself that as my cowrkers were not to my liking, even on my best days. I was informed of the termination in the sitting room of a hotel in downtown Chicago. On the way home I felt relieved while driving north on Lake Shore Drive and blasting, ironically, "Takin' Care of Business" by B.T.O. on the radio.

I filed for unemployment, but didn't collect as I had landed a tech support position with an I.T. company in the far NW suburbs within a week. It was a contract to hire position, with the hiring decision to be made after four months, on December 31, 2000.

Long story short, I didn't get the job, but I do feel I gave it my best and look back at that position as a turning point. I met my goals of being at the office @ 7:00 a.m. every day in a punctual manner and never leaving my desk to wander due to boredom. The medicine and therapy were paying off. I was becoming consistent in my behaviors at work and at home. I payed special attention to sleep patterns and quiet time. I eliminated interruptions at home and focused on being rested and ready for the next days work.

Eager to return to athletic training, I knew it would compromise my performance at work, so I kept it to a realistic minimum, just enouigh to be interesting and never too much to interfere with my day job. I even started dating, but nothing evolved from it. When informed of the decision that I would not be retained, I blurted out "Is this a performance issue?" My Director responded no, you're asking for too much money and we found a guy willing to do the same job for less. Lesson learned. Money doesn't come easily. No loss really, that job was just a way to keep me busy during the day and stop me from ruminating on the past.