Badassery: a guest post by Dennis Meeks

I’m thrilled to introduce Dennis Meeks to you all. Dennis is a very kind and supportive reader of Running on Sober, and when he mentioned in a comment that he was in the midst of running thirteen marathons in twelve months . . . and doing it to get and stay sober . . . and doing it in his early-60’s, well I practically begged him to share his story with us. And I couldn’t be happier that he said yes. Reading his story of endurance, triumph and lessons learned moved me to tears; then it moved me off of my ass and got me out the door for a run. I hope you’ll enjoy Dennis’s story as much as I did, runner or not. Ladies and gentlemen, I offer you one helluva sober running badass, Mr. Dennis Meeks:


When I tell non-runners that I run marathons (26.2 miles), the first question I get is “why?” And, it’s a very good question.

I have always been running from something, most of us have, I think. Now I am running toward something–sobriety–but to get there I have to run through a ton of bullshit to get to the other side. And I needed help to get there.

Photo via Pixabay, Public Domain.

Photo via Pixabay, Public Domain.

At the tender age of 63, after finally (hopefully) getting off the crazy-go-round of serial relapses that had been ongoing for three years, I decided I would run six marathons in six months. The first two or three went well, so I upped my goal to 12. But then I thought, what if I get injured and need some time off?, so I added one more, #13, just in case I had to skip one, so I could still finish 12 in 12 months.

Running–now I am speaking literally, “feet pounding the pavement” running–and getting sober are not that dissimilar. I’ve been running on and off for decades, but for the last several years, especially 2010 through 2013, my running was mostly off.

I started training again in July 2013 after quitting drink and drugs on June 29, 2013. Some may think it borders on masochism to train for one marathon, and just plain craziness to train and run one every month for a year. But, not so fast . . . I had been drinking myself senseless with alcohol for years, so why not run myself sober? I needed a goal to strengthen my sober resolve.

Running became my go-to therapy: running, hurting, growing and getting stronger with every training run with my self-confidence dimly reflected in the sweat of my contorted face at the finish line of every marathon. It’s difficult to drink (like I did) and exceed at anything other than resolute failure and regret. Running was helping me change all that.

So, my first marathon time this year was a 4:23, not bad for the aged among us. I was stoked. And six months later, I had a personal best at 4:22. And I kept going. Running. Not drinking. Repeat. I ran in the rain, sleet, and the heat of the Tennessee summer, when I came to understand the splendid relief that shade trees and sobriety offer. I ran when I didn’t want to run. I ran when my feet hurt, when my calves cramped, when all I could do was put one foot in front of the other. I ran when I didn’t like myself. And I have kept running now that I have discovered that, hey, I’m not so bad after all. I’m stronger, tougher, more disciplined than I thought. I have endured. By god, that’s what I do, I endure.

Marathons are hard. 13 marathons in 12 months is harder: I ran on beastly hills; I ran in the ugly parts of strange towns; I ran in the glorious Utah Canyon in Provo, Utah; I ran a marathon that was stopped because of an impending ice storm in Little Rock, Arkansas (I was at mile 18–I wasn’t going to stop because of some inclement weather–and I finished anyway with an official time); I ran in Tupelo, Mississippi on the last day of August where the heat is oppressive and the humidity worse (like running with a hot blanket wrapped around your head); I ran a midnight marathon in rain-soaked darkness that consisted of five 5-mile boring loops and then 1.2 miles to make it an official marathon distance of 26.2 miles; I ran the Flying Monkey Marathon in Nashville, Tennessee in November, in a forest of hardwoods the color of copper with swaths of still green foliage providing a peaceful patina over a course with 7,200 feet of total elevation change, up and down, up and down; and, finally, I ran in the desert at the Tucson (Arizona) Marathon — I could have been on the moon, the landscape so different, but breathtaking, from that which I am familiar; the only forests there consist of cacti and shrubs. I plodded, I lumbered, I shuffled, but I always finished. Every freaking one of them. I fucking endured.

Each and every medal, earned through endurance and badassery. (Walker courtesy of a bone spur earned from 13 marathons in 12 months. Speedy recovery, Dennis!) Photo courtesy of Adalyn Meeks.

Each and every medal earned through endurance and badassery. (Walker courtesy of a bone spur earned from 13 marathons in 12 months. Speedy recovery, Dennis!) ~RoS
Photo courtesy of Adalyn Meeks.

And I have been sober every day of this marathon year. Again, not that much difference between running marathons and staying sober. Both are stinking hard (marathons literally so), insanely challenging, and infinitely rewarding. However, although running is a gift, abstinence is essential. Moving forward, letting go, looking back without going back, friending sometimes without being befriended. Falling down, getting up, getting it wrong and making it right.

My first days sober were much more frightening (and more important) than my first trip to the marathon starting line. Running is exhausting and exhilarating, generally, while drinking is always, without exception, a dead-end for me. Smack, thud, every goddamned time.

Now I run “somewhere” because I am determined not to drink “anywhere” anymore. I run because the physicality of it makes me appreciate what I have and what I almost lost. Running and sobriety prepare me for what’s ahead. I had begun to wonder how many more times I would see the sun rise, the moon slide across the night sky, experience the explosive delight of a thunderstorm, hear my 14-year-old daughter’s infectious laugh, or feel my wife’s embrace. I started thinking about being 63 and I actually did some math . . . and it was sobering, no pun intended.

Now, I see more days ahead. More active, sober days. When the alarm screams in my ear in the morning, I awake reluctantly, but gratefully without a hangover or owing anyone an apology. Then I toe the starting line of a new sober day, game face on, experienced, excited and still a bit frightened of what may come.

But, hey, I’m a total badass . . . bring it on.

Dennis Meeks, badass, with one of his first medals from the Navy Nautical Miler. Photo courtesy of Adalyn Meeks.

Dennis Meeks, badass, with one of his first medals from The Navy Nautical Miler.
Photo courtesy of Adalyn Meeks.

Special thanks to LifeRing and the friends I have made there. Without their support my marathon year would never have happened. (Note from RoS: You may learn more about LifeRing Secular Recovery at


Thanks for guest posting Dennis, not only are you a badass, you’re my hero. This one’s for you:


Thank you everyone for reading. Jennie, Michelle and I wish you and your loved ones a happy holiday season and peaceful new year. We’ll be back in January, but until then, please say hi to Dennis in the comments. What did you think of his story? Pretty awesome accomplishment, don’t you think? Would you ever consider running 12 marathons in 12 months? If not marathoning, what helps you stay sober and/or (semi-) sane? ~ Christy

Holiday Sobriety and Sanity Savers

(This was originally posted November 2013, but I am making it a sticky post for the ’14 holiday season. I hope it helps someone. I wish you all happy and healthy holidays. -ros)

I was standing in a deserted church parking, freezing my ass off, wailing like a crazy woman, a couple of days after Christmas in 2010. Oh yeah, I was also talking on the phone to my ex-boyfriend from eighteen years ago (hey, his phone number was on Facebook), and oh yeah, I was drunk. Not just drunk, but “sobbing, snotty, hyperventilating, drunk-dial-your-ex-from-high-school” drunk. I knew I needed help though, which is what had led me to the church parking lot to begin with–I was trying to go to a recovery meeting (my first), except it had been canceled–and it’s also what led me to call someone else to say, “please help me.”

"Country Church" by Mark Duffy via FineArtAmerica

“Country Church” by Mark Duffy via FineArtAmerica

I’m not even sure what else I said. But you know what? He listened, and I felt better afterward. I didn’t do anything stupid that night (much), and the next day, the world spun on and life continued.

In a way, it was my first recovery meeting.

I needed help, I didn’t know where to get it, and talking to him for ten freezing minutes in a parking lot may have saved my life.

So why am I telling you this? I’m supposed to be taking a break, I’m supposed to be on hiatus, right? Well, I am, but… Bloody hell the holidays are stressful. For everyone! You don’t have to be an addict or alcoholic or co-dependent to feel the stress and anxiety–just human. And if even just one of you needs to read this, then I need to write it. 

Here’s what follows:

  • General crisis support options and resources
  • My specific sobriety-saving ideas from this year and last
  • Links to UnPickled and Mr. Sponsorpants’s “Holiday Survival Guides”

Crisis control and support options:

First, if you need to talk to someone, about anything, and you don’t know who to call (and you don’t have your ex’s phone number), write one or both of these numbers down or program them in your phone:

1-800-273-TALK (8255) — it can be about ANYTHING. If you are stressed out and in a meltdown or crisis, call them 24/7. It’s Lifeline’s crisis hotline open to anyone.

1-800-662-HELP (4357) — this is more about Substance Abuse & Mental Health crisis, but if you’re in mini-meltdown, I’d say that qualifies as mental health, wouldn’t you? It is the number to SAMHSA’s National Helpline.

If you are outside of the US, you can look up a phone number here.

If you’d rather chat on-line, Lifeline offers instant chat from 2 pm – 2 am eastern. Learn more here–don’t worry, I promise it won’t open a chat window, it’s just the information page. Bookmark it.


A few ideas to help you stay sober:

Holidays can be stressful. Stress can be triggering for alcoholics and addicts. Therefore, holidays can be triggering for us addicts. Right? Well, DUH. (My philosophy and logic professors would be so proud of me.) This time of year can get to anyone. It doesn’t take a college professor to know that the holidays can make Mother Theresa herself want to go postal or get smashed on spiked eggnog. It might be human nature, but it ain’t rocket science.

So how do we survive with our sobriety in tact? We do whatever we have to do. Blogger October0Nine and I wrote about this last year in our shared post “Sobriety During the Holidays.” But since then, I’ve come up with five more ideas that I haven’t seen anywhere else:

  • If it’s a choice between pumpkin pie / cookies / candy / stuffing / cheese balls / Schweddy Balls / gingerbread cake / the entire gingerbread cake / an entire bag of jelly beans (the huge bag, not the tiny Jelly Belly bags) / an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s / two entire pints of Ben & Jerry’s / three entire (well, you know), _______ (insert ANYTHING here) . . . or drinking, choose the first option. ALWAYS, EVERY TIME. DRINKING IS NOT AN OPTION. Eat the sugar, it’ll be okay.
  • Don’t keep alcohol in your house, if at all possible. (Yes, I know spouses and partners and roommates may make this difficult.) But if you host a holiday party or dinner and you buy a couple of bottles of wine or a case of beer for your guests, send it home with them. Or–ugh, I can’t even believe I’m going to say this–pour the left-over wine down the kitchen sink. If you don’t have it in the house, you can’t drink it.
  • There is no such thing as “this is a special occasion so I guess I can have just one drink” for an alcoholic. Go eat a cookie instead. Every day of your sobriety is a special occasion, don’t reset your sobriety-counter back to zero just because you think you can handle one or two. If you could handle one or two drinks, you wouldn’t have quit drinking in the first place.
  • At holiday dinners I know you don’t want to feel awkward or different, and I know those wine glasses are so pretty, but please don’t drink out of one. This way you won’t accidentally pick up someone else’s glass of wine or vice versa, the hostess won’t top off your glass of grape juice with Merlot, an over-zealous waiter won’t keep asking you, “white or red?” Chances are you would be fine, but why leave it up to chance?
  • You don’t have to be sobriety’s golden child or poster boy. You don’t have to defend your sobriety, or anybody else’s for that matter. You don’t even have to say you’re sober, you can say, “No thanks, I’m not drinking tonight.” You don’t have to speak up if someone makes a tasteless joke about addiction–which, hey, Rob Ford, it could happen–or about drinking too much. This goes against much of what I write day-to-day (be the change; silence is deadly; if nothing changes, nothing changes; etc. . .) but that’s okay. Your mission is to stay sober. That’s all. Not to be nice, not to eat like a rabbit, not to be the smiling hostess, not to be a golden child. JUST TO STAY SOBER.


From October O Nine and RoS:

Sobriety During the Holidays (a Shared Post With “October O Nine”) via RunningOnSober:

Mark Twain (or The Bible or Abe Lincoln or somebody) once said, “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”

I change this around during trigger situations when I need a time-out to: “It is better to be thought rude and sober than to be undoubtedly rude and drunk.” My sobriety has to come first. It’s not rude. It’s not selfish. It is life-saving. If I do not put my sobriety first, then nothing at all can come second. . . .

(Some helpful hints:) Have an exit strategy; bring your own car if possible, don’t be dependent on another if you need to extract yourself from a stressful situation. Bring your own fancy non-alcoholic beverage. The bathroom makes an excellent escape room! Have at least one person who knows that you are not drinking; give them a nod or a look if you are “having a moment.” . . .

(From October O Nine:) If this is your first sober Thanksgiving, protect your sobriety. Remember it is better to understand than to be understood. People don’t understand why you are not drinking? F `em. Don’t feel the need to explain yourself; don’t feel the obsession to be understood.

From UnPickled

Survival Strategies for Holidays and Vacations, via UnPickled (Seven outstanding suggestions for keeping your sobriety in tact over the holidays; She always has excellent comments too, so check them out and add your own ideas):

Practice Some Lines – This sounds super corny but it is helpful: write out some ways to say “no thanks, I’m not drinking” and practice them before the event. Generally, as long as you have a glass in your hand no one will care what is in it. Still, there’s always someone who just insists on getting you something in which case you can say, “Ohhhh, I’ll have some of that delicious-looking San Pelligrino that someone [YOU] brought. Yum! Thank you!!”. If you are really pressed, just accept the drink offered and quietly set it aside and calmy WALK THE EFF AWAY. If this leaves you overly shaky, refer to items 6, 3, or 2.

From Mr. Sponsorpants

Mr. SponsorPants 6th Annual Holiday Survival Guide, via Mr. Sponsorpants (I first read Mr. SP’s “Survival Guide” facing my first sober Thanksgiving and holiday season–and I didn’t drink. I read it the next year before my second sober Thanksgiving–and I didn’t drink. I’m reading–and sharing!–this year before my third sober Thanksgiving, and I don’t have any plans to drink. I’m not superstitious (much) but, hey, read it–follow it–and maybe it can work for you too. Some of it is 12-Step based, but don’t let that detract you from reading.

Here are a couple of my favorites from his guide of eighteen:

#8 – Remember, “Please pass the gravy” is not code for “Please, now that you’re sober, unload all of your pent up anger and frustration you’ve been stuffing for the past X years, right here right now, during dinner.” . . .

#12 – Remember, you may not have been such a winner yourself on past occasions — it may take a while for people to “see” who you are today. Be patient, show who you are now rather than tell who you are now, and things will eventually change.

I also love #1, #6, #10, and #13.


If you have holiday survival tips, or know of other survival-type guides, please feel free to share or self-promote in the comments.

So You Want to Quit Drinking

(the following poem contains profanity and raw imagery. it is not intended for young, nor sensitive, eyes. it is inspired by several bukowski pieces, each linked to in the footer. while bukowski, to my knowledge, never sobered up, there are few who understood alcohol’s powers as well as he did. I’d like to think he had both bluebird and kraken in his heart, and would not hesitate to let you borrow either, or both, though he’d probably ask you for a six-pack in payment. hey, we all have our demons, baby. if you need help, get some help. don’t let them win. you’re worth saving.)


so you want to quit drinking

after bukowski

so you want to quit drinking
give up the bottle
clean up
dry up
grow up

so you’re finally ready
to quit waking up
in strange places
with spit
on your face
in your hair
in your hands
in your knees

oh I bet you really made an
ass of yourself
this time.
did you fuck up
fall off the wagon?
fall off your bar stool?
fall off the karaoke stage?

did you flash the bartender
kiss a woman
grope a man?
did you fuck a stranger
flip a cop the bird
throw up on a neighbor’s lawn?
did you scream at your mother
slap your kid
kick your cat?
did you drunk dial your ex
walk out on the tab
crash your best friend’s car?
did you lose your wallet
your keys
your dog
your mind?
did you pick up a gun or a razor
a bottle of pills
a pen to write your last goodbyes?

none of that?
well maybe it didn’t happen.
not like that.
maybe it did.
or maybe it will
next time.
the hell do you

so that’s why you’re
you’re tired
of no longer being in
control of your actions.
of being a slave
to the demons in your head.
of running from yourself
only to find out you

you can lose yourself
oh sure.
you can go mad,
give in,
give up.
but why would you want
to do that?

why let them win?

will, you know,
if you let them.
the demons in your head.
the fat
booze execs
slick suits
slick hair
slicker words.
the smug
sipping their
wine slushies
over their
gossiping about
“oh poor dear.
she was so fragile.
bless her heart.
what will become of the children?”

fuck ‘em.

you give in,
they win.
and there’s always
going to be a

fuck ‘em all.

they live in
the past, babe,
this is the now
the n. o. w.
your demons aren’t here
they’re way back there.


those nights,
those bottles,
those black-outs and hangovers,
those times you wanted to die?

newsflash, baby.



somehow you’ve had more
than your share of second

you should be dead.
I don’t know why
you’ve been spared.
like me,
you’ve survived
a thousand deaths.

maybe those gods got plans
for you baby.
maybe it’s
one big cosmic
horse race in the sky.
maybe this is your race to lose

you really are marvelous you know
the gods wait to delight in you
maybe they like you
maybe you’re entertaining
maybe you make them laugh
or maybe they just feel sorry for you
laying on the bathroom floor
beside that other god.
maybe you remind them of themselves
the gods were young and crazy once too
dancing on tables and flashing strangers
gods gone wild
before they too
cleaned up
dried up
grew up

how the gods love fools and drunks
but honey you don’t have to be a drunk
you can just be a fool
even better
be the one who fools them all
they’ll never see you coming.

there will be days you want
to fall back.
there’s no help for that.
but don’t fall.
save those feelings
send them to that space
that place in the heart
that will never be filled.

we can meet in that space.
instead of waiting
instead of drinking
we will release the krakens.

you thought I really had a
bluebird in my heart?
no baby,
I have a fucking kraken in mine.
and so do you.
instead of drinking
we’ll release the krakens
and laugh in delight
and smoke our cigars
and we will make it through
this day.

you really want to quit drinking?

put down the bottle.
do not pick it up again.

pick up the pen.
do not put it down again.

when they come calling,
which they will
for a while,
you know what to do.
let them keep their
bluebirds -
release your kraken,

can save you but yourself
but a kraken never hurt either.

off you go baby . . .
bottle, no.
pen, yes.
and write write write.
write it all
let it come out of
your soul like a rocket

c’mon baby, you want to quit drinking?
ain’t nothing to it but to
do it!
do it!

then get up tomorrow
and do it again.
then the next
and the next
and the next day again.

but you have to start
some day.
how about today?
this day,
one day.
that’s all there is.
you can’t go backward.
you can’t go forward.
n. o. w. is what you got.
it may not be much,
but it’s enough.

there is no other way.

and there never was.



Inspired in part by Bukowski’s:
So You Want to Be a Writer,” “Another Comeback,” “The Laughing Heart,” “No Help For That,” “The Bluebird,” “Nobody But You.”


My New Rules for Running (including “I will love my thunder thighs”)

A few thoughts on running, and a handful of “new rules” I hope to follow in my current training season:

  • I will stop calling myself slow. There are others slower than me. Sometimes they’re not in my race, but they’re out there, and they are running. A 12-minute mile is the same distance as a 6-minute mile or a 20-minute mile . . . one mile.
  • I will stop calling myself a fat runner. I have a different build. My thighs are full of thunder and power, and my butt provides good padding for when I fall on it. Also, ass fat makes good running fuel. Just as there are others slower than me, there are others larger than me too, out there running, often passing me with their own thunder thighs and ass fuel.

(Photo found in multiple locations on the internet.)

  • I will love my thunder thighs. I’ll remember the above photo and these two quotes from tumblr whenever I hear the term “thunder thighs:”
    • “Thunder thighs” is meant to be an insult, but to me it sounds pretty f’ing badass. Like I’m Thor or something, creating thunderstorms with my awesome curvaceous legs. ~ gabywankenobi, tumblr
    • I really like the term “thunder thighs” cause then my stretch marks are like lightning, yes I am a storm, I am a force to be reckoned with. . .  ~ radicalcliffe, tumblr
  • I will always remember why I started running in the first place — for my aunt. When I was a child, she would take me to volunteer at the Peachtree Road Race in Atlanta, and I wanted to run it for her before she died. She died from ovarian cancer a couple of months before the race, but I went on to run it for her. In fact, I even ran it with her, carrying some of her remains with me. (She has run every race since then with me too.)



  • I will always remember running in Las Vegas with one of my best friends, A, the year I got sober. We ran back-to-back 10ks down the Vegas Strip — one direction one day, another direction the next. And we did it sober. (And we also saw Sade! And we jumped off the Stratosphere!) And we had So Much Fun.

Our shirts say, “My Sport Is Your Sport’s Punishment”


  • If When I finish a race (or a run, a jog, a walk, a “wog,” or an anything), I won’t beat myself up over my finish time. I will be proud that I finished. Finishing is winning.
  • Before a race I will remember the following:
    • I will high-five every child, no matter what. (Well, assuming they want to high-five. It would be a little awkward if they didn’t.) And I will thank water volunteers, no matter what. And I will try not to spill water on them.
    • I will not eat steak quesadillas before a race, no matter what. Nor will I take diuretics just because I feel bloated. I especially won’t take them before racing on a hot, humid summer day. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
    • I will bring safety pins. And chewing gum.
    • I will never forget Boston. I may never run Boston, but I can always run for it.
  • If running stops being consistently fun, I will quit . . .
  • So that I can restart and fall in love with running all over again.
  • And I will never ever hesitate to stop during a run and take in the view.

veg px

run collage
How are you? How’s your running going? Did my friends in the States have a happy Thanksgiving? Should I add anything to my list? What songs or artists are you currently digging? My friend A (the one I went to Vegas with) finally got me into Hozier … what took me so long? LOVE!