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Copyright © 2016 Albuquerque Journal

SANTA FE – Libertarian presidential candidate Gary Johnson’s recent appearance on comedian Samantha Bee’s “Full Frontal” show was Johnson at his wide-eyed quirkiest: mugging for the camera, giving Bee an impromptu buss on the cheek as they navigated a climbing wall, describing some Libertarian convention-goers as “just bat(expletive) crazy.”

“I am a round peg in a square hole when it comes to the perception of what you’re supposed to be, running for president,” the former New Mexico governor told Bee, whose satirical late-night talk show premiered this year on TBS.

He is making his second run for president as a Libertarian, this time with former GOP Gov. William Weld of Massachusetts as his running mate – “some credibility that Johnson needed,” Johnson acknowledges.

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An on-and-off user of marijuana over the years, Johnson is one of the highest-profile supporters of its legalization but says he would not use it in the White House.

Johnson’s trademark mix – unconventional, earnest, a tad goofy – is familiar to New Mexicans, who elected him twice. Back then a Republican with libertarian leanings, he served from 1995 through 2002.

He came out of nowhere, a young, self-made millionaire and triathlete with no experience in politics who took out three-time Democratic Gov. Bruce King in a three-way race.

Driven and disciplined, Johnson sets goals and doggedly pursues them – most notably to the top of Mount Everest in 2003, a climb he made just a few months after he broke his leg skiing.

The difference between climbing the world’s highest mountain and running for president?

“Really, nothing. It’s just one foot in front of the other, one setback after another,” he told the Journal recently. “It’s how you deal with setbacks that ultimately determines success.”

And why does he want to be president?

“No. 1, I think I would do a really good job. But more than that is, I just have to think this would be one of humankind’s greatest experiences,” he said in an interview this month.

Johnson, who got 1 percent of the vote four years ago, is jazzed by poll numbers that show him flirting with double digits. He’s hoping to reach the magic 15 percent threshold that would qualify him for presidential debates this fall with presumptive nominees Democrat Hillary Clinton and Republican Donald Trump, so he can tout the Libertarians’ fiscally conservative, socially liberal message.

“We think we’ve got a big, major interstate down the middle between Trump on one side and Clinton on the other,” he said.

‘Gov. No’

Johnson’s tenure as governor was bumpy – especially in the first term – as the smaller-government governor battled the Democrats who controlled both houses of the Legislature. He accused them of “living in la-la land” when it came to spending.

He used his most potent weapon – the veto – nearly 750 times over eight years, earning him the nickname “Gov. No.” He claimed he saved the state hundreds of millions of dollars. His 200 vetoes the first year he was in office set a record, and included legislation sought by his wife.

His critics faulted him for what they perceived as his disdain for the legislative process and his unwillingness to compromise.

“Nanny-nanny boo-boo,” he responded after legislators refused to confirm several of his appointees.

Lawmakers took him to court after he implemented a work program for welfare recipients without legislative approval. When he didn’t back off, he became the first governor to be found in contempt of court by the New Mexico Supreme Court.

The state’s highest court also ruled that Johnson exceeded his authority when he signed state-tribal gambling compacts without the Legislature’s approval, and the court nullified the pacts. The GOP governor claimed the Democratic-dominated court’s decision-making process was “kind of a chicken bone thing.”

And the state Supreme Court, in a lawsuit brought by district attorneys, put the brakes on Johnson’s ordered cuts in the funds state agencies were allotted each month, saying he overreached.

“Johnson never understood that he was elected governor, not dictator, and he had to be brought to bay by the courts,” the late state Rep. Max Coll, D-Santa Fe, told the Journal when Johnson left office.

The owner of a construction contracting firm, Johnson didn’t like labor unions. He vetoed efforts to extend a law guaranteeing collective bargaining rights for public employees, earning him the ire of teachers and other workers.

His opponents criticized him for expanding and privatizing prisons and for financing major road projects with long-term bonds, which they said hobbled other projects down the line.

But even critics of his policies remember him as even-keeled, straightforward and honest.

“What I liked about him the best was, you always knew exactly where you stood,” said state Rep. Ken Martinez, D-Grants, who served during Johnson’s second term and was chairman of the House Judiciary Committee two of those years.

“He doesn’t hold a grudge. To him, it’s all just business,” said Sen. Cisco McSorley, D-Albuquerque, who was in both the House and the Senate during Johnson’s tenure.

Johnson is perhaps best-known as an advocate for drug legalization, believing the nation’s war on drugs has been “an absolute, miserable failure.”

It was his long-held belief, but he didn’t raise it as a policy issue until he had been elected to a second term, because, as he told the Journal in 1999, “I didn’t have the guts.”

Johnson had acknowledged in 1994 during his first gubernatorial campaign that he had used marijuana and cocaine while he was in college; voters elected him anyway.

As governor, he initially came out in support of legalizing marijuana and heroin. He eventually narrowed that to just marijuana, saying harder drugs should be handled through harm reduction programs.

His popularity – particularly among Republicans – plummeted for a while, and the New Mexico GOP fractured along the fault line of drug policy.

But Johnson remembers his years as governor fondly.

“It was fun. … Never felt as plugged-in,” he said.

Athletic feats

Johnson had a penchant for long, pre-dawn runs, boasted body fat of less than 9 percent and offered PowerBars to reporters who gathered for news conferences. He was a new breed – “the Lycra governor,” former Journal columnist Larry Calloway called him.

He ran marathons, competed in triathlons, biked, skiied, swam, kayaked, and jumped off the Sandia Mountains on a tandem hang glider – which he later called his best day in office.

At a meeting of Western governors in Utah, he asked to try out an Olympic aerial ski jumping facility at a summer training center, and did his first aerial jumps in 18 years to the cheers of his colleagues.

He was a risk-taker, seemingly fearless.

“Being a competitive athlete is my passion,” he told the Journal the second year he was in office.

Reporters scrambled to keep up with the news of his latest athletic feat – and with the string of injuries he often didn’t disclose.

He fractured two vertebrae in his back while running on ice during a legislative session, then visited the Senate and House floors to have lawmakers sign his cast.

He injured ribs when he took a spill on his Harley-Davidson, broke his wrist when he crashed a dirt bike, sprained ligaments in a knee in another bicycle wreck, bruised himself when he fell out of a kayak, and had knee surgery after a ski race.

The 2003 Mount Everest climb – after he was out of office – left him with a frostbitten toe. In 2005, he seriously hurt himself while paragliding in Hawaii. It took more than two years to recover from injuries to his knees, back and shoulders.

He has summited the highest mountains on each of the seven continents and continues to be an avid mountain biker.

Today, Johnson is spending his weeks traveling around the country campaigning, trying to get back to New Mexico on weekends. He has a home in Taos, near the ski slopes where he has spent as much time as possible since he has been out of office.

Johnson’s wife of 28 years, Dee Johnson – his partner in construction contractor Big J Enterprises – died of natural causes at the end of 2006, just months after their divorce was finalized. Johnson, who initiated the split, said the two had grown apart; she described herself as heartbroken.

He has been engaged for several years to Kate Prusack, a Santa Fe real estate agent and outdoor enthusiast whose passions include biking, hiking and skiing.

“I hope she’ll marry me someday, but we’ll see,” he told the Journal.

Two years ago, Johnson was named CEO and president of Cannabis Sativa Inc., a Nevada-based company formed to sell medical and recreational marijuana products. He left the job in January to run for president, and told the Journal he has stopped using recreational marijuana because his work is campaigning, “and you shouldn’t be on the job impaired.”

He has also pledged not to use marijuana if he is elected president, and notes that he hasn’t had alcohol in 29 years.

“I am actually a really disciplined cat,” he told Bee.