I have found it difficult to articulate my feelings each year as I approach my annual “sobriety birthday” in AA.

At my home group, like many groups, we have a chip system to denote our time in sobriety. White chip (one day), yellow chip (30 days), red chip (3 months), and so forth.

The colors of the chips and times they symbolize can vary from group to group, however the act of recognition is the important thing. Celebrating the shared accomplishment, in the context of our fellowship, shows how we are able to support each other. We are able stay sober one day at a time and demonstrate to the newcomer that the program works – it really does.

After a year, you receive a bronze token and get to share briefly with the group (just a minute or two) about “how you did it”.

When I was new to AA and sobriety, I would see folks getting their one-year or multi-year chips and imagine what a celebration it must be. Like a small victory parade: we clap, they smile, handshakes all around. What a momentous and fun occasion! (And without a doubt, it’s an important milestone to recognize.)

As I approached my own first anniversary several years ago, my emotions were all over the place. I was excited to surpass the one-year mark. It seemed to grant access into a certain unspoken society, moving toward “old timer” status where you measure your progress in years, not just days or months.

However, I wasn’t in the celebratory mood I had envisioned. I found myself re-living those last few dark days at my “bottom” before I had totally surrendered, and remembering how unmanageable my life had really become. It was an uncomfortable juxtaposition of tough memories and congratulatory messages. All the while remaining grateful for the journey and the many gifts of sobriety.

So, one of my sobriety tools is running. I ran some before I got sober, however in recovery running has become more spiritual and meditative, with benefits beyond the physical. An hour a day, first thing in the morning – often in the dark – provides time for prayer and contemplation. The first steps of my run each day always begin with the Serenity Prayer. 

At my most recent sobriety birthday (my 7th), I found some peace in a running parallel. I realized that each year in sobriety is not really like running a race at all (where you finish, celebrate, and have a big party).

Rather, it’s more like running a lap on a track. The closer you get to the end of the lap; there you are right back at the beginning again. And in truth, that’s the power of a journey in sobriety, rooted in spirituality and connectedness.

The laps remind me of my own weaknesses and fallibility and guide me through what I now find to be a constructive exercise of reliving those dark days. The laps build the muscle memory that through my recovery program (meetings, sponsorship, working the steps) I can stay sober through a power and a fellowship greater than myself, one day at a time. 

So, as I begin this next lap, I’ll start it the way I do each morning:

God,
Grant me the serenity,
To accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.

Rich K.
Durham NC