For years I used exercise as a denial mechanism. There is no way I could have a drinking “problem” if I got up in the morning and swim-bike-run like this. The worse my drinking, the more I swam, biked and ran. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.
Exercise also provided an outlet for my mania. On those days when my mania flared, I felt like a racehorse in the gate – eyes wide, hooves pounding at the dirt. Open that gate baby and I will kick your ass. I once ran the last six miles of a marathon without my shoes because my shoes were killing me and I was not about to stop.
My alcoholism and bipolar just love each other. They are evil little twins. When I put one to bed the other one sneaks in and wakes up the other. I have been sober almost 13 years and the mania is still banging on the door. My medications have been an incredible help in taming the beast and lifting the depression.