Hi there! Thanks for visiting my page. I'm Kevin--I'm a recovering alcoholic approaching 10 years of sobriety, a runner and many more things not relevant to this message :D. In April, I will be running the 2023 Boston Marathon to raise funds for Herren Project, a national nonprofit that provides free resources and support for the treatment, recovery and prevention of substance use disorder.

I tend to reflect more and more as my sobriety date approaches. So I figured I'd share a bit of my story with you–because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that sobriety is next to impossible when you go it alone.

I grew up in a privileged community–in fact, it's one of the many reasons why I'm passionate about Herren Project's mission. There are so many parts of my life that wouldn't have been possible without the resources I had access to, including my sobriety. So when I was 18, I went to college in Baltimore, and several years into my time there, my mom left a copy of the Big Book on a shelf in my room. I quickly wrapped it in a paper grocery bag so that my roommates wouldn't know I was an addict. I wanted to get sober–I just preferred to go it alone.

So I tried. For years, I tried to get sober without recognizing that I was an addict, and without asking for help. I remember volunteering at syringe exchange programs in Cleveland and Baltimore, pretending like I was different from the people we were helping. Telling myself that I was just a bad drunk.

Unsurprisingly, I couldn't get sober like this. But when I ended up in the median of a semi-highway in Maryland at 2am, I guess I was finally able to see what my future looked like so long as substances were involved. For the first few years of my sobriety, I still refused to call myself an addict. I'm not sure what I thought I was–someone who couldn't control himself around substances and relied on them to feel things and escape life? But finally I came out as an addict–much different from when I came out as gay–but equally as hard and humbling and scary and empowering.

So here I am. Living sober and approaching 10 years. The more time passes, the more thankful I am that I made the decision I did, and the more thankful (and embarrassed) I am of my privilege. That's why Herren Project means something to me–because no one should go this journey alone. No one. No matter your resources, no matter how you identify, no matter the life you've lived in your addiction–no one. And I want to be part of helping others have the privilege of reaching their sobriety anniversaries–a day, a week, a month, a year, 10 years, a lifetime. All of them. 

I choose to run to raise awareness for Herren Project. I hope you'll consider donating so you can help others reach their sobriety anniversaries, too. Because not everyone is as lucky as I've been--most aren't.