Choosing the Unknown - Prologue
What does it take to step into the unknown?
In this prologue to Get Some, host Paul Johnson looks at the moments when we leave certainty behind. From the starting lines of ultramarathons to everyday choices, Get Some explores what happens when we decide to take the next step, even when we can’t see the whole path ahead.
This prologue shares why choosing the unknown might just be the most honest way to live.
Paul Johnson: It's not always brave. It's not always planned. It's not even always hopeful. Sometimes it's just saying yes to something better than what you have, even when you don't believe in it yet.
Paul Johnson: I'm Paul Johnson and this is Ultra. Get some a podcast of stories about who we are, how we struggle, and why we keep going. This special edition is devoted to a single word, Cocodona. It's a made up name, a fusion of Sedona, and the Coconino Plateau. But for those who know it, Cocodona means something very real.
It's a 250 mile foot race across Arizona from blistering desert floor to cold thin air above the tree line. But for most runners, Cocodona is [00:01:00] never just about distance. It's about risk crossing a threshold, saying yes to something you don't fully understand. This series is about that moment. When you don't know what's ahead, but you go, anyway, we're calling the series Choosing the Unknown, and it begins not with a runner, but with a man who once chose heroin and then chose something else.
This is a true story. Some details have been changed to protect the people involved. Greg lived at his girlfriend's apartment on the edge of Tucson, Arizona. She let him stay even though they both knew what was happening. He. She told herself it was love. He told himself it was temporary, but really it was survival disguised as care.
The curtain stayed closed. The sink was always full. There were [00:02:00] coffee mugs on the floor and a few with cigarette butts in them, and always this low stale smell like dust and sleep and something not quite dead. Most days blurred together. He didn't think about recovery. He thought about what time the dealer might call and what was left in the drawer, what lie he'd tell if anyone checked in, but nobody really did.
And then one evening on the porch, out of nowhere, a friend showed up, one of the few who still picked up his calls. They sat there in the blue light of early dusk. Didn't say much at first. Just watched the sky lose its color. And then the friend said, you don't have to keep doing this. I know a place I'll take you.
No judgment. Just the offer. Like a door left, slightly open. [00:03:00] Greg didn't believe he could stay clean. Didn't believe he deserved to. Something cracked open, not with a flash of light or a voice from the clouds. Just a quiet thought. Maybe not even his own. You don't have to die like this. Greg packed a plastic grocery bag with two shirts and a toothbrush.
Got in the car the next morning, didn't leave a note, didn't say goodbye, just left. The detox center was small, tucked behind a church on the edge of town. He went through hell the first few days, couldn't stop sweating, threw up. Everything shook so hard, they had to hold his arms. Still on day four, he almost walked, but someone, another resident, not a staff member, put a hand on his shoulder and said, just stay till dinner, man.
That was [00:04:00] it. But for Greg, it was enough. He stayed. That was over a year ago. Now he lives with two roommates in Prescott. Works for a drywall crew, still gets cravings sometimes, especially when he's tired. But he goes to meetings, texts his sponsor, and every month he sends one simple message to the friend who picked him up that morning.
Still here. That's what choosing the unknown looks like. It's not always brave. It's not always planned. It's not even always hopeful. Sometimes it's just saying yes to something better than what you have, even when you don't believe in it yet. Maybe that yes comes from within. Maybe it comes from someone's kindness, or maybe in the quietest way it comes from God, a whisper in the dark that says.[00:05:00]
There's more than this. Keep going. And maybe you know what that feels like. Maybe you've stood in that same place, a life that's no longer working in a future you can't quite see. You didn't need a guarantee. You just needed a hand on your shoulder, a ride, a little faith. This episode of Ultra Gets Some is about stepping into the unknown, not finish lines, not certainty, but the quiet courage it takes to begin.
Again. This episode is about Cocodona, but it's really about Greg and about you and me, and the mystery of what happens when we choose the unknown.
Next time on Ultra Get Some, we leave the porch in Tucson and head to the start line of a 250 mile foot race across Arizona. But the race doesn't start the way you think. I. Because three weeks earlier I [00:06:00] ran something even longer and somewhere around mile 100 my body started leaning again, A subtle tilt.
The kind you don't notice at first until you can't stand up straight. I'd seen it before. I'd dropped out of races because of it. But this time, I had a plan, a 90-year-old osteopath, a crew with a lacrosse ball and a technique that just might fix it. Or break me trying because dignity is optional. when you're running 300 miles, chapter one, the starting line isn't always the start.
That's next week on Ultra. Get Some.
This episode was reported, produced, and edited by your host Paul Johnson. I want to give a huge thanks to everyone who supports Ultra. Get some. For everyone who is part of Ultra, Get Some your support makes big projects possible and I'm so grateful. I will see [00:07:00] you in the next episode.