"Everything is working better than it ever has in my life," says Jeff Galbraith, whose life has taken a new turn. He plans to run 29 miles on Saturday.

greg bryan / arizona daily star

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Long-distance running is simple: One foot in front of the other, over and over, until you reach the goal.

A bad back and a 30-year smoking habit complicated things for Jeff Galbraith. When he decided to reclaim his youthful passion for running last year, Galbraith didn't last a minute. His lungs burned and the five herniated discs in his back screamed at him to stop. "I felt like every muscle in my body was being ripped off my bones," Galbraith said.

He kept on, but the extreme social anxiety that makes Galbraith, 45, avoid strangers didn't help any. Galbraith, who has been robbed and threatened by criminals who prey on the mentally ill, has both real and imagined reasons for avoiding social contact.

He won't board a bus, and when he started running it was indoors on a treadmill. "It wasn't until the fifth month that I started running outside," he said.

The bipolar disorder that has thwarted his plans since adolescence made him doubt his ability to stick with it, even after he found the courage to venture onto a popular running path at Randolph/Reid Park.

Then came the shin splints. He learned to wrap and ice them and finally broke down and bought a new pair of running shoes — a significant investment for a man who lives on a Social Security disability check.

A year later he's still running.

For the past seven months, he has circled Randolph Golf Course on the busy, 2.8-mile paved path nearly every day, working his way up to 50 miles per week, with a one-day high of 22 miles.

His lungs are clear, his pulse is steady, his shins are fine, his back hasn't felt this good since he first injured it as a teenager.

"Taking a breath is two to three times longer. My heart rate has gone from 75-to-80 beats a minute to the upper 40s."

He plans to run 29 miles on Saturday — a mile for each year he smoked, minus one for the year since he successfully quit.

He's hitting up friends and family and strangers to sponsor his run, with proceeds going to La Frontera, the community mental health agency that saved his life, or at least restored it to one that feels like it's worth living.

In May, he plans to run the Grand Canyon, rim to rim, and his goal beyond that is an ultra-marathon, the 50-mile Rocky Raccoon in Texas in February 2008.

He set that goal after completing his first 8-mile organized race last year at Saguaro National Park. "It was very difficult, but I did it. I started to think this was just a total miracle."

This is not the same man who showed up divorced and depressed at his sister's door in Tucson in December 2002 and hid himself in his room all day and all night.

"I would open the blinds every morning and he'd shut them," said his sister, Jennifer Baker.

"He'd come sit and eat, not say a word and go back to his room. I'm a very sanguine person. It was even bringing me down," said Baker.

If not for La Frontera's counselors and programs, she said, "He would have just stayed here and not learned how to live life again."

Galbraith said he wants to tell his story to give thanks for the help he has gotten from La Frontera and to inspire others in his situation to quit smoking and start exercising. He has researched the topic. The mentally ill smoke at much greater rates than the general population; 90 percent of schizophrenics smoke.

He also wants to tell his story to help people understand that the seriously mentally ill are just people with a disease, not scary, volatile people to be avoided.

Galbraith runs easily on the Reid Park path and chats with strangers as he keeps his slow but steady 6-mph pace.

The ease with which he does both is part charade, he says.

"I have a lot of anxiety when I run — it just comes out because I am thinking about a lot of stuff, situations."

Talking to a stranger is equally tough. Told that he seems perfectly normal and at ease, he taps his head: "You should see it from here."

Running was a big part of Galbraith's life early on. He grew up in Lompoc, Calif., where the sport was big. He knows of a half-dozen world-class runners from the town, including his brother Steve, who trained for the Olympic trials in 1980.

Jeff Galbraith ran various track events and was on the cross-country team in high school, despite academic struggles that often kept his performances from counting.

One day, at age 16, he was sitting on the edge of a "cloud nine" — one of those inflated bags used for landings in high jump and pole vault — when some of his teammates jumped on the other side, catapulting him. He landed on his butt, injuring a disc.

Afflicted early with depression, anxiety, insomnia and inability to focus on his schoolwork, he dropped out of high school. He married young, moved to Washington, Colorado and then Texas, had three children.

He reinjured his back working as a mason and later, as a warehouseman, then again in a car accident. He has five herniated discs, one classified as severe.

Galbraith never held a job for long, even when he was feeling physically able. The paralyzing anxiety would show up and he would be a no-show.

"It was always kind of up and down. I really never got help for it until I was 27, 28, finally went to see somebody. I was very depressed, diagnosed as bipolar, went on meds. They seemed to help for a while, but I never really was very good at consistently taking them. Since I've been here, I've been on meds continually."

Galbraith moved from his sister's home after nine months. He had a job and an apartment. Then the extreme anxiety resurfaced. He lost his job and his apartment.

La Frontera put him in assisted living with 24-hour supervision. He kept to a treatment program, went to groups and met a woman there who is now his fiancée.

He got squared away on medication, got his finances in order and the couple moved into their own apartment.

They decided to stop smoking.

They could be an advertisement for Arizona's tobacco policies. The price increases caused by voter-enacted taxes were a big incentive. "I smoked a pack, pack and a half a day. We were rolling our own, getting pretty desperate. You can't exactly afford extras on a Social Security check."

When it came time to stop, Galbraith consulted the state's Tobacco-Free Ways Web site, which is supported by those extra taxes he paid. The couple enrolled in a state-sponsored smoking-cessation program that met weekly at University Medical Center.

He began to exercise. At first he walked on his treadmill, then ran for a minute at a time, kept increasing that.

"Then I went to Reid Park. I wasn't sure I'd keep it up. It's like everything never lasts — a job, a good mood. I always have that in the back of my head, that I was always preparing myself for failure."

His counselor believes those days are over. "He's very motivated," said Farran Rose, coordinator of services for the seriously mentally ill at La Frontera's East clinic. "He's really developed the skills he needs to be able to cope and recover and lead a meaningful life," she said.

Exercise is an increasingly important component of mental health treatment plans, said Rose.

"Ten years ago, medication was the key. Now we're moving toward the recovery model. The field is growing so much — eating healthy, meditation, guided imagery, exercise, all of that."

The concept of a healthy mind in a healthy body is as old as civilization's written record.

Physicians and psychologists have always recommended exercise for depression, but they are now finding that the benefit is not simply the runner's high from increased endorphins.

"Exercise is a pretty good antidepressant, too — equal to drugs or psychotherapy in some studies," wrote Dr. Michael Craig Miller, editor of Harvard University's Mental Health newsletter, in a sidebar to a recent Newsweek cover story on exercise and the brain.

Exercise is only part of the recovery plan, Rose said, and Galbraith "may be on medication long-term." But she doesn't rule out the possibility that one day he will be able to give up meds in favor of a healthier lifestyle. "He's very motivated," she said.

"I think the exercise is the easiest thing," said Galbraith. "The diet is the toughest."

It's all connected. Galbraith, even though he retains his sweet tooth and the craving for carbs caused by his medications, has dropped 30 pounds in the past year. That has eased his back problems, making it possible to run more and feel better.

"Everything is working better than it ever has in my life," he said.

Tense situations can still trigger anxiety, he said. Talks with his ex-wife, necessary because he wants to stay in touch with his children, are a good source.

Often unemployed, Galbraith spent lots of time raising the children and he's proud of their progress.

Jessica, 20, is at Nanjing University in China, studying international relations.

Christopher, 18, is at Murray State College in Oklahoma on a baseball scholarship.

His youngest, Sarah, 13, has spent the past three summers with him in Tucson. One day last week, his ex-wife called to say she can't come this year.

That was his day off from running. "I went out and ran 16 miles," he said.

In years past, something like that would have been a major setback, said sister Jennifer. "Now he's got something to keep him going."

In addition to the running, Galbraith said, his fiancée keeps him on the right path.

"It's really a one-in-a-million relationship," he said. "We just don't have any problems. There are days when I'm down and she's always helped me get out of that."

"They're a wonderful couple," said Rose, who said both are "in tune with themselves and each other" and committed to recovery. "They do very well together," she said.

Galbraith doesn't allow himself to think about a life without meds or mental illness. He's had insomnia and bouts of depression since he was 4 years old. Without medication, he doesn't sleep.

He's on the road to recovery, but he's not running a race. He's building a life, one step at a time, and there is no finish line.

"How do I feel after running? I feel like I want to run again."