It was November 1976 and I was living in Newton, Kansas. I had just quit my job as Executive Director of a runaway youth agency in Wichita. The corruption by the board of directors made it impossible for me to continue. I was burnt out and felt defeated. This was not my first foray into the non-profit world, but I was tired of the backstabbing, low pay and hope quashing events.

I was twenty-five years old and had a serious nicotine addiction. I started smoking cigarettes when I was fifteen around the time that my father died. I smoked at least a pack of Marlboros a day plus a bunch of my wife’s Tareytons.

I smoked when I woke up, when I drove to work, before I ate, after I ate, right before bed; just about every waking moment. Back in the 70’s smoking was permitted on airplanes, in restaurants; in phone booths, anywhere.

I had been smoking for ten years when I decided to take a run around the block. I think this was before the national exercise craze hit. I was athletic in high school; having played various sports until my senior year.

It was a cold Kansas day in November as I got ready to go out the door. I looked down and noticed my stomach was blocking the view of my feet. I was not only addicted to cigarettes; I was dreadfully out of shape too.

I started out with a slow jog and this activity went downhill from there. I coughed incessantly and fought for air. I was out of breath after a couple hundred yards.
I decided then and there that I had to quit smoking.

I had hopes that I could change the world through my work. Reuniting runaway kids with their parents was a goal I could pour all my energy into. Unfortunately, the forces against this were huge.

Runaway kids from all over the country stopped over in Kansas while seeking better lives in New York or California. Nobody really cared about the kids who ran away because they were being abused at home. There was no real national effort to do anything but to temporarily house these children.

This was an eye opener which dampened my optimism for real social change and exacerbated my cigarette use.
Now I was unemployed and was not clear about my future, but bouts of disillusion would set in. I wondered if I was slowly killing myself with nicotine.

This was occurring days before there were pills and patches to assist with smoking cessation. I stopped cold turkey. There were fits and starts. I would stop for a week and then buy a pack(I think cigarettes were forty cents a pack then). I would smoke one and throw the rest out. Smoking cigarettes was a very difficult habit to break because nicotine hooks you physically and mentally. Now it is almost forty-four years later, and I haven’t smoked for almost forty-four years!

I have been running since that 1976 aborted attempt I have run five marathons and many smaller races during the past forty plus years. I now run twenty-five miles per week for my mental and physical health. I have been a psychotherapist in private practice for over thirty years; wrote five highly acclaimed self-help books and ongoing blogs.

I still get disillusioned but have more hope for our future than I did when I was a young man. I see better days ahead.