When I hear the words “impaired driving,” I think about anything that keeps a driver from being fully present behind the wheel. Most people think it only means drinking and driving, but impairment takes many forms. It can be texting, fatigue, stress, or anything that dulls focus and slows reaction time. What makes it so misunderstood is that people often do not realize they are impaired. They think they are fine to drive until something goes wrong.

The most common forms of impairment I notice today are not just from alcohol or drugs, but from distraction and exhaustion. Texting is one of the worst because it tricks drivers into thinking they are still in control. Fatigue is another silent danger. I have run enough cross country and track races to know what it feels like when your body wants to quit but you push through anyway. That works on the track, but not behind the wheel. When you are driving tired, your body might still be awake, but your mind is not sharp enough to react.

I learned how serious impaired driving can be through a friend of mine named Lynn. Last spring, after one of our late track meets, she decided to drive home even though she was exhausted. She told me later that she was just trying to stay awake by listening to music. At one point, she looked down to change the song. In the time it took to glance at her screen, her car drifted off the road and spun into a ditch. She was not seriously hurt, but her car was totaled.

When I saw her the next day, she was pale and quiet, still replaying the moment in her mind. She told me, “I did not think I was doing anything wrong.” That sentence has stayed with me ever since. She was not being careless. She was just tired and distracted, the same way so many of us are after long practices, late nights, or stressful days. Her story made me realize that danger does not always come from reckless choices. Sometimes it comes from ordinary moments when we are too confident, too comfortable, or too tired to notice how close we are to losing control. I remember feeling a mix of relief and fear that day. I was relieved that she was safe, but I was afraid that I could have been in her place. That fear has stuck with me and shaped how I think about driving every single time I get behind the wheel.

After that, I started thinking differently about how I drive. I do not text behind the wheel anymore, even at stoplights. If I am tired, I ask someone else to drive or take a few minutes to rest before getting on the road. I also pay closer attention to how my friends drive. If someone has had a drink or looks exhausted, I am not afraid to say something. It can feel awkward in the moment, but I would rather deal with a few seconds of awkwardness than a lifetime of regret. I have also started having conversations with friends about what we can do to stay safe, like planning rides or taking breaks when needed. Being proactive and speaking up has made me feel more confident in my role as a responsible driver and friend.

Driver education and traffic school programs can make a real difference when they go beyond facts and laws. The lessons that stick with me the most are the ones that feel personal. Stories from real people, videos of crash survivors, or conversations that make you picture someone you care about in the driver’s seat all make an impact. Good programs teach you not just how to drive, but how to think and make decisions under pressure. They make you realize that every choice matters, even the small ones. I have seen how these programs help students internalize the risks rather than just memorize the rules. They encourage habits that can save lives, such as putting phones out of reach, checking mirrors constantly, and knowing when it is time to rest.

Because of what happened to Lynn, I have started to see driving as more than just transportation. It is a responsibility, a promise to everyone else on the road that I will stay alert and careful. I know I cannot control what other people do, but I can control what I do. I can choose to be the one who speaks up, who offers to drive, who keeps others safe when they might not be thinking clearly. I can also share my experiences with younger students or teammates, hoping that hearing a real story makes the dangers of impaired driving feel real and urgent.

Impaired driving is not just about being drunk or high. It is about being distracted, tired, or overconfident. It is about forgetting that one second can change everything. That is something I will never forget. I want to be the kind of driver who not only keeps myself safe but helps others do the same. Because sometimes, preventing a crash is not about slamming on the brakes. It is about opening your eyes to what is right in front of you and choosing to act responsibly every single time.