Amanda-Rae Voss of Buffalo, N.Y., center, cheers for the band Ricochet on Wednesday during the 20th Annual Downtown Hoedown at the Fremont Street Experience 3rd Street Stage. The event kicked off the National Finals Rodeo, which starts tonight. Photo by K.M. Cannon. NFR bareback contestant Chris Harris talks about his drug addiction and time spent in jail before preparing to practice for tonight's opening ceremonies of the NFR at the Thomas and Mack Center. Photo by John Gurzinski.

When bareback rider Chris Harris nods his head tonight to start his first National Finals Rodeo in six years, the motion to open the chute so he can start his ride will signify the end to a long journey back for the Texas cowboy.

But before he indicates he's ready to go, he'll be following advice his father offered for his comeback from hell: First nod with your heart, then nod with your head.

The 30-year-old cowboy last competed in the world's richest rodeo in 2000, when he placed third in the event by winning $72,128 in 10 days. He finished the year ranked third in the world.

In 2003, however, he watched the NFR on a television while sitting in a Huntsville Prison cell in Texas.

Harris says he had been a lost soul for at least three years before that.

His talent for riding bucking horses was put on hold after he was bucked from his career when methamphetamines -- speed -- began riding him.

He'll be wearing No. 8 on his back tonight when the 48th annual National Finals Rodeo opens at the Thomas & Mack Center.

The former Chris Harris, especially the one who was called "Speedy Weedy" behind his back by other cowboys, says he spent from 2001 to 2003 either drunk, high or both.

"I ran wide open for a long time; that's for sure. I've been through a lot of trying situations the last four or five years," he said, with sincerity piercing from his now crystal-clear eyes. "I'm back, and it's good to be back."

Harris has won $70,566 this year and was ranked No. 1 earlier in the season. He's won or shared first in seven major rodeos this year and might be riding better than ever.

It must be easier to ride without a monkey on your back.

"It's a blessing that I'm here," he said. "A lot of those guys I was locked up with are still there or went back.

"I learned the only death you're ever going to die in life is the death you die every day by not living. During that time, I was dead; I wasn't living. You could have put a tombstone over me, because I was dead. I wasn't functioning for society or my family."

His low point came at 2 a.m. on March 20, 2003, when he was arrested after head-butting his mother when she refused to let him borrow her truck. When Hill County, Texas, sheriff's officers arrested him, Harris struggled inside the police vehicle and used his feet to steer the vehicle into a tree.

If Harris had been charged with attempting to kill the officer and convicted, he would have faced life in prison, the Dallas Morning News reported. But Harris pleaded guilty to a criminal-mischief charge and agreed to enter a state substance abuse program.

Some in Texas claim Harris received special treatment from police and prison authorities because his father, also Chris Harris, is a longtime Texas state legislator. But he nonetheless benefited from four months of solitary confinement in a county jail before his 10-month stint at Huntsville.

"I never chose in my life to ever go to a place like that or become the kind of person I'd become," said the younger Harris, who lives on his ranch in Itasca, Texas, where he breeds bucking horses about 180 miles south of Dallas.

It was a world away from when CBS News 48 Hours shadowed Harris during the 2000 NFR to chronicle the life of a rodeo star.

"I was controlled by something. I was living a life in my mind and not in my heart; and when you live life from your mind, you're kind of screwed, because your mind is clouded by all kinds of stuff."

Once Harris completed the program, he was released, grateful to see that his wife, Stephanie, was waiting for him along with Jesse, their daughter who was born a few months before he entered prison. He also began to renew his relationship with oldest daughter Halley, 13, who was living with her mother.

"Luckily I have a wonderful wife who's supported me and knew I was a better person than the one I'd been showing," Harris says.

He credits the Huntsville program for helping him rediscover life.

"Any time is hard time, but it wasn't as hard as it could have been," he said. "That fueled the fire. You get everything stripped away from you.

"I started working on me to get me right, and I've been able to get back to using the talent God gave me to use."

Harris acknowledges he's on the downside of prime riding years; he's one of only four bareback riders older than 29 competing in the NFR.

"It's been a good year, but I always expect more. ... I still have a goal to be No. 1 when it's all said and done."

His family believes he already is.

Harris says prison counselors advised against returning to rodeo life, but he'd have none of that.

"There's nothing wrong with riding bucking horses," he says. "That had nothing to with me getting involved with drugs."

The day he was released, he entered a small rodeo in Texas and won.

"I was up on the chutes when they played the National Anthem, and I started to bawl. I realized I had made it back."

Harris jokes that he cries a lot since his eyes have cleared, like when his oldest daughter dropped an eight-point buck on her first hunt with him a few weeks ago.

"There I was gutting that deer and the tears start coming again."

He fully expects to cry tonight before his event opens the rodeo. He won't be the only one among those who know how treacherous the comeback trail has been.