First off, it depresses me. Addiction in general is one of the most depressing things in the world, and the fact that folks--generally nice, well-meaning folks--use drugs to voluntarily destroy their own lives... It makes me unbearably sad. It's how my father died, and my mother, too, from a certain point of view.
Dad drank himself to death and died of liver failure and "acute ethanolism," according to his Death Certificate. Personally, I'm not so sure that "ethanolism" is a word--I think maybe that's what you call drinking when you're a doctor living in Tennessee, and you want to write something official-sounding on somebody's Death Certificate--but be that as it may, the reality of the situation is that my dad got depressed, chronically, and he tried to self-medicate. And that got out of hand, as it is wont to do. Ultimately he chose to push us away instead of trying to change his life for reasons that I cannot understand no matter how long or hard I think about them. He died in 2007, and I have written literally hundred of pages about it since them, and I'm still no closer to understanding how a guy who was motivated enough to run two marathons and finish U.S. Army Ranger School doesn't somehow have the will to kick the bottle when he knows damned well that it is rining his lives and hurting his wife and son.
My mother's case is a little different. She ultimately died of complications brought on by repeated bouts of bladder cancer, which you can only blame on addiction if you consider smoking to be an addiction. Of course, smoking is an addiction, but it's one that my mother never even attempted to give up, so... I mean, how can you work with that? Moreover, my mother was not one to change her life. She made the world change to fit the way she chose to live. And then, too, there were some mitigating factors. Were she alive today, my mother would swear that her cancers were caused by the anti-rejection drugs she took as a result of her kidney transplant. That might even be true, but it doesn't change the fact that I was there when they removed one of her lungs because of lung cancer, and I know for a fact that she kept on smoking even after that operation was a success, and she was, against all odds, given a second chance.
My point in all of this is merely to say that I do not want to be on the side of drug legalization. Drugs, addiction... these things destroy lives. I've seen this up close now a couple of times, and it really sucks. And then, too, I ride through Harlem every day on my foldie. Granted, 125th Street is a Hell of a lot nicer, safer place than it used to be; still, there are more than a few drug-addled street people wandering around under the train tracks. You can tell 'em, 'cause they're the ones who're hunched over and staring at their feet.
With that said, we are losing the War of Drugs, and to be honest with you, it's not even close. Prices have dropped 80% in the last three decades? Good God, that makes drug enforcement a fucking joke. When even George Will is in favor of legalization at this point, it makes me think that this isn't a battle we need to keep fighting, that even getting into the fight in the first place was a kind of defeat in and of itself.
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On a happier note, we've got our first big brick workout today with the Milford YMCA Triathlon Club. I'm psyched. Up to now, I've been taking it pretty easy on my nascent triathletes, but these week we put on our big-boy pants and get out there and go! This week, my guys and girls finally learn what it really feels like to do a multi-sport race. I can't wait!
I also have no idea who's going to show up.
If you're wondering, I've broken our workout down into two groups. The Bike Group is gonna ride 15-miles and then run for half an hour. The Run Group is gonna ride 10-miles and then run another 5. Me, I'm personally gonna ride the 10-mile course but then go out for my long run of the week. My plan is to put in about 6.75-miles running after I get off the bike.
Eh. We'll see how that goes.
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