I had taken a couple of days of vacation to go to the State Fair with my sweetheart the cowboy. I didn't want to go because I felt like hell, but I felt that I had to honor my commitment to go with him. He was rather put out about my trip to Seattle without him, and I think even a bit jealous of the trip to Vegas.
So, he showed up to pick me up, he reeked of cologne, and he was talking very loud - which was all out of character. It only took me a minute to realize he was drunk - and we weren't going on any trip. He had promised me that I would never see him drink, and until this day he had honored that. He was being obnoxious and I couldn't get him out of my house. I told him he could "sleep it off" in my basement. I failed to anticipate that he wasn't going to be getting sober because he was still drinking. I sat in my bedroom and cried. He sat downstairs getting more and more drunk. For the first time ever I was afraid of him. He was 6'5" and buff (and beautiful). At the end of 36 or so hours, he left. It was the end of the relationship for me. I was devastated.
The next day, I knew I needed to do something drastic to keep me alive and so I started running again. At that time I could only run for 5 minutes - downhill. After a while, I could run 10 minutes, then I knew I could run a mile. I would run a mile and feel so happy! It took me a long time to get up to a mile and a half, and I stayed there for a while.
Sometime early in 2004, I met a woman who was training for a triathlon. I told her I would do it with her! I started training early in the year for an August triathlon. I needed all that training because I did not even know how to swim properly. I learned. I registered for a triathlon in August 2004.
The running and the tri training really went a long way to help me to live through losing this relationship with this man I loved so dearly.
My sponsor was sure that God had someone out there for me, and she thought she might know who it was. I was dubious, but I did meet him. In July of 2004, we went out on our first date. We dated and everyone was so excited. He was sober 15 years, I was sober almost 20. He had a master's degree, I had a master's degree. We looked like we belonged together socially. We had the blessing of our AA peers and our sponsors. I figured I had found out where my own choice in "love" got me - a drunken cowboy - so I could listen to others. We kind of considered ourselves set up, like an arranged marriage. Not to say that we didn't enjoy each other, because we did. (There haven't been too many things I haven't wanted to write about, but this is one of them....)
Anyway, another year had passed. I was now running, training for a triathlon, and feeling very buff. I had a "nice" boyfriend. I was sponsoring a couple of women and meeting with them regularly to do the steps the way I do them... as the big book says to do them... word by word. Things seemed to be on the upswing.
My 20th birthday was an incredible experience. Here is what I wrote about that:
"Twenty years today! Imagine that! I have been humbled and slightly freaked out about having 20 years. I feel unworthy. I am such a crappy AA member. I think for the first time I know that it is an honor to be a member of Alcoholics Anonymous. What a blessing."