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I was so determined, now, to go to the place where I first picked up my drug and as soon as I arrived home, I changed out of my office suit, put on my work-out gym clothes and headed for the bridge.  At first it was a bit painful and my back hurt but the more I persisted the better it got.  Soon I was on the other side.  There were people passing me as they jogged, even some passing me twice, but I continued working towards the high I have heard many times before.  Exercising.

I made it.  Along the way I was grateful I made up my mind the previous weekend to not succumb to the failure of relapse.  I had motivation. I was energetic. I was overweight and needed to move in another direction to better myself.  When I arrived home, I was grateful for my accomplishment, making plans to cross that bridge—daily, as long as the weather agreed.  If walking five miles per week got me down to a nice weight two years ago, what would twenty eight miles do?  Sure, I could have picked-up and loss ten, maybe fifteen pounds in a weekend using drugs, but I wasn’t willing to pay the price; and by the middle of the week, when I could begin eating again, the pounds would have rushed back to replace the pounds lost in the chemically induced way.

You have heard the joke about the “stem-fast” diet.  I just wasn’t willing to utilize that method anymore.  Sure, it just so happens the bridge I would need to take would bring me closer to that part of my life again, but I chose to use the bridge to take me to a better part, a healthier, more alive, and more promising and joyful way of losing weight. It’s the same bridge, it’s just the purpose which changed.

Give up those habits which will change your life, for a change which bring better habits.

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