the addicted cyclist

Well the good news is that i don’t miss drugs, in fact i find myself in a position where the sense of regret I have is far greater than the pull of the high I got from them. One of the questions I ask myself regularly is if I’ll ever truely forgive myself for going down that path…and honestly I dont know if I will. the sense of regret is immense and I genuinely struggle with it every day

What I do know isn’t going away any time soon is the crippling paranoia and anxiety that i’ve been left with. Forefront in my mind is you don’t do as much shit as I did without some kind of payback further down the line, and by payback I mean my body must have taken an absolute beating …. enlarged hearts, atherosclerosis, bladder cancer……i cant help but think that the cost of addiction may end up being far greater than the tens of thousands of pounds worth of gear i hoovered up my nose..

So 2019 is over – how did I do?

From a cycling perspective, pretty good. I ended up coming 3rd in my club’s Time Trial series, winning the Vets (over 40) category. I’ve certainly achieved one of my goals, I’m fitter at 43 than I’ve ever been, despite suffering from a mysterious virus at the end of the season that certainly hampered my performance

The even better news is I managed to pass the remainder of 2019 without falling back into old habits. I’m tempted to say those days are now well and truly behind me, and a house move to a new town has managed to put the temptation even further out of reach.

The bad news is, as it turns out I’ve developed a new addiction – buying bike kit. It may be healthier, but its almost as financially ruinous as a nasty drug habit.

Well  a few months have passed since my last post and its been a bit of a roller coaster ride. The good news is that the cravings are now few and far between, I can just about now watch an episode of Narcos on Netflix without reaching for my phone and calling my dealer. As silly as that sounds, it was always the little reminders previously that would set me off. I’m still avoiding my old haunts, and those friend circles I use to mix in as I know that if I didn’t, sooner or later the temptation would be there. 

And on the fitness front? Well things continue to go well. I’ve joined a couple of cycling clubs and competed in my first race in 5 years. I didn’t win, to be honest I didn’t get close to winning. But as corny as it sounds, just taking part was a bit of a victory given what I’d put my body through. I’ve even bought myself a new bike…its remarkable how rich I feel all of a sudden now that I’m not spunking my entire salary on legal highs and class As. 

Less positive is that my anxiety, which for years I struggled with before my addiction, has resurfaced as badly as ever. I’m not going to blame that one on the drugs, as its something I’ve grown up with. But it does play a part, I fret over the damage I’ve done to my health, the overwhelming sense of regret over the stupidity of my actions, and the sense of shame I feel about the whole sorry episode. That said, I’ve taken the positive step of booking in an appointment with a psychiatrist to tackle some of these issues face on, something I should have done a long time ago. 

Despite that I remain massively positive. No matter what happens in the future I console myself with the fact that if I hadn’t got clean things would have been far worse. And that’s what I try to remember everytime I experience a craving. 

It all started out as so much fun, I was turning 38 and am living it up at my birthday party, fuelled by numerous beers and surrounded by good friends. It was much like any other night out really…. until all of a sudden, it wasn’t. Despite the alcohol involved, I can still vividly remember my mate tapping me on the shoulder and handing me a small bag containing what was pretty obviously coke. ‘Fancy a line?’ he asked. I hadn’t partaken in such behaviour before, but fuck it I thought, its my birthday, what harm can it possibly do.. 

Fast forward 4 years and I’m at rock bottom. Cocaine and Mephedrone had become far more than a quick pick me up in a social setting, something to enjoy with mates on a night out. It had become a way of life, and not a very good one. I can’t even bring myself to write down how much I estimate I spent over the period, but trust me it was a lot, and at the expense of pretty much everything else. My bank balance disappeared, as did my social life. The comfort of concerned friends easily replaced by the next hit.  

It got so bad I was contacting my dealer multiple times a day, sometimes making up excuses for him to come round a second or third time so he wouldn’t get irritated with me for not buying enough on his first visit. ‘Got a mate asking for some, can you come round again?’ I’d lie, and he’d begrudgingly drive the 10 min from his house to hand over another couple of bags which I’d then proceed to devour on my lonesome. You know something is seriously wrong when you are having to lie to your drug dealer to entice him to come take your money.  

I tried everything to give up, downloaded call blocking apps so I couldn’t call him, cut up my bank cards. None of it worked, there was always a way round it. Of course I deleted his number, but it was so ingrained in my memory I could never get rid of it. I always thought it ironic that as the rest of my mental faculties disintegrated in a haze of abuse, I could always recount that 11 digit phone number of his, no matter how hard I tried to forget it. 

So who am I then? I’m a 42 year old professional guy, working in Finance. I have my own flat, a nice car, outwardly I’m a normal respectable bloke, into sports, especially cycling.  But underneath the façade of confidence, I’ve always had my demons. For as long as I can remember I’ve struggled with anxiety in my personal and working life, niggling invasive thoughts, depression. I’ve been to the docs, I’ve been given the meds, I’ve read the self-help guides, but nothing helped. And just as I’d resigned myself to my mental health issues, along came a magic powder that could make them all go away. And I was hooked. 

If I sound like I’m playing the victim card here, I’m not. I’m not a victim. What I am is a fucking idiot. Its not as if I hadn’t grown up over the previous 40 years being told that drugs are bad for you. But hey, I had to find out for myself. Well boys and girls the verdict is in… and I can confirm that they weren’t lying to you. Drugs are fucking evil. They will ruin your life given half the chance. 

Where am I now, and why am I writing this blog ? I’ve been clean for around 10 weeks now, The catalyst, other than the fact I had no friends left, no money, and a life expectancy trajectory of about 53, was to get fit, really fit. I’ve finally found something that comes close to replacing the high of drugs, and that’s exercise. It’s my new drug, and its free. I’ve decided to blog about my journey, predominantly for cathartic purposes, a diary of my own recovery and a motivation for me to stay clean and healthy. But if just one person reads this and thinks ‘if that dude can do it then so can I’, then even better..