Haven’t had a smoke in just over three
weeks now – since I left Athens. I’m taking
it one day at a time, but so far, so good.
Last time I quit smoking – almost
22 years ago – I went cold turkey. Decided that I
was not a two- or three-cigarette-a-day person. It was a
pack or nothing. My wife signed up for the weekly classes
where they show you pictures of what a lung looks like after
years of smoking. Scared her off the smokes.
I stayed home and stopped.
Took up a bit of running about a year or
so later. Could still feel the smokes in my chest. I’d
be wheezing as I trotted through the neighbourhood. I could
almost feel the black crap shifting and breaking up in my
lungs as I coughed. That stopped after a couple of weeks,
as my physical condition started to improve.
 |
| The
Athens Marathon clerk puts down her cigarette long enough
to help out Peter. |
They
say it takes a little time, but you can restore the health
of your lungs after you quit smoking. Cilia – those
little hairs that clean your lungs – start growing
back in one to nine months after you stop smoking.
I didn’t actually put a cigarette
in my mouth while I was in Athens, but when I got home,
I felt like I had smoked two cartons. You see, everybody
there smokes. Doctors, lawyers, butchers, bakers. My 78-year-old
aunt chain-smoked for the hour-and-a-half I sat in her apartment.
Not a hint of a cough, either.
Normally, when you go to a road race of
any kind, you don’t expect to run into smokers. Athens
is different. At marathon headquarters at the Divani Caravel
Hotel, there were more ashtrays than volunteers. Got my
race kit from a woman, sitting behind a table, cigarette
dangling from her mouth. She placed the butt lovingly in
an ashtray – for just a moment – while she stuffed
stuff in my bag.
Officially, Greece is on a kick-the-habit
kick these days. The government is encouraging people to
stop smoking. Some are listening – a little. Athens’
brand-spanking new metro is smoke-free. Remarkable, for
a place where large groups of Greeks gather. And not one
of the cabs I took smelled of smoke – a huge change
from the last time I was there five years ago, when cabbies
routinely inhaled, whether you liked it or not.
But go anywhere else, and you disappear
into a cloud of smoke. Restaurants, coffee shops, bars,
private homes. Walk down the street, everyone’s holding
a cell phone in one hand and a smoke in the other.
The only escape was the marathon route.
Only had to deal with smog there. Although I did pass two
buildings sporting signs that read: “STOP SMOKING
CENTER.” I wondered why the signs were in English
only and plastered on second or third storey windows.
By the end of my week-and-a-half in Greece,
I was wheezing slightly. The feeling has hung around, especially
now that I’ve started running again. Not the kind
of wheeze that comes with your basic November Canadian cold.
It’s definitely a tobacco wheeze. Been there, felt
that. And I’d like it to go away.
So I’m glad we’re getting more
and more anal about smoking in public spaces here –
and that the new Ontario government is talking about extending
the ban on consumption of the evil weed in public across
the province.
I’ve
got these lungs to protect and if they’re clogged
with somebody’s tobacco smoke, it’s going to
make it that much harder for me to push myself. It’s
almost time to crank it up a notch again. You see, there’s
this foot race they hold in Boston every year …
