Picture swimming in the ocean with no land in sight. I have a paddleboarder and motorboat to my right, a motorboat to my left, and attached to my ankle is an Ocean Guardian* shark repellent: a three-foot-long meshed metal tail with a battery on the end that shocks me and the surrounding water every six seconds. This is what I depend on to protect me from some Great White-populated waters.
My paddleboarder slaps me on my butt with his paddle to get my attention and informs me that the Garmin fish-finder on the boat just pinged a fish at 50 feet that’s more than fifteen feet long. In endurance sports, this moment is called “hitting the wall” – when I feel like I’m about to give up.
I have two choices: abandon the swim and be safe; or rely on the electric contraption attached to my ankle and just swim through the next four hours until I clear the sharky area. Sometimes we have to place our faith in something, so I look up to the sky*, place it there, and I’m reassured by the shock from my Ocean Guardian that I am going to prevail. I also look up at my best friend, Jake, on the paddleboard, to my wife, Gretchen and my coach, David, and say to myself, “Put your head down and keep going, you’ve done this before.”
I found my way to swimming through the discovery of hope and choosing a life of sobriety. As a teen, I found that quickest relief to my anxiety and stress was through the abuse of alcohol. I grew up in Atlanta, GA and weekend drinking was completely normalized and allowed by parents beginning at the age of sixteen. Never would I have guessed that the seeds sown at the age of sixteen as a binge drinker would bring me to the edge of despair as an adult fully consumed by alcoholism twenty years later. The temporary escape of alcohol was permanently ingrained in me as a way of finding relief from angst and fears. In early sobriety, my insecurities and vulnerabilities seemed to disappear. I was just three days into my stint in rehab at Silver Hill Hospital when I heard an Irish fellow named Ken speak about how triathlon played a large part in his recovery. After hearing this, I approached him and asked: 1) Would he be my sponsor and 2) Could I learn how to swim to do this crazy thing called triathlon? The answer to both was a resounding YES! So, after five weeks in rehab and with a lot more time on my hands, I went to the local health club and bought a one-month pool membership.
Swimming is lonely sport and for me this was already a lonely time as I had lost most of my drinking-buddy friends. But as my father once said, it’s all about quality, not quantity. I found that when I headed off to the pool each day, I surrounded myself with people who cared. Like the AA meetings I attended, I found great friends and family members who rallied around me to support my new endeavor in living. This came even more true as I began my feats of swimming around the island of Jamestown, RI, becoming the first person to swim 19 miles from Block Island to Jamestown, and, finally, the first person to swim the 24-mile length of Narragansett Bay from Providence to Jamestown. On all three of these adventures, I had my family and my greatest friends supporting me.
My definition of “family” quickly changed with sobriety and the new worldview and clarity of mind it brought. Yes, my brothers, sister, and parents rallied around me, but so did Ken, my first sponsor, Rocky, my first doctor at Silver Hill to whom I still speak regularly, and all the amazing people whose work I have gotten to know in the recovery community.
I continue to go to meetings, I read the Big Book, and I talk to my sponsor. But in the end the only thing that’s keeping me from my next drink is me. It isn’t willpower, it is the realization that I know who I am.
They say that addiction is a family disease – meaning it affects the whole family, not just the person using. But amazingly, so does recovery. People say I am the proudest alcoholic they know. If it weren’t for my recovery community and family, I wouldn’t be the human I am today. Let’s strive together to destigmatize this disease and rally around people in recovery, their families, and those who are still seeking help. It’s true that life’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. For me recovery isn’t just a dip in the water, it’s a long, systematic journey full of ups, downs, choppy waters, and unknown threats just beneath. But if you surround yourself with the positivity of family: both blood and non-blood, all you need to do is stay your course and persevere. When you hit that wall, just look within yourself for strength, and to those who surround you with love and support.
[NOTE: This speech was given on August 29, 2024 at the 8th Annual Community Addiction Awareness Vigil at 6 South Avenue in New Canaan. To view Ben speaking at the event, CLICK HERE. To view Ben’s inspiring documentary, Swim Tuff, CLICK HERE.]