In the past, my idea of carb loading was adding extra syrup and butter to my waffles. And maybe some whipped cream. I can’t say that I’ve been particularly discerning about the food I eat, though I have recently turned over a new leaf (more on that in a later blog). But there are two things I am a snob about (as if this makes up for eating ice cream by the pint). I don’t eat fast food. And I don’t consume caffeine. I don’t drink coffee in the morning and I think soda is 50% of what is wrong with America.
I went to an early dinner with a friend last night. She is my trainer and also one of the healthiest people I know. So when she ordered a coke it immediately became the greatest idea in the world. I felt a pang of guilt ordering the forbidden fruit. But it felt like a naughty treat and it made every sip taste so much better.
My coke was a bottomless glass. Honestly, what can possibly be better than free refills? I sipped through my straw like a lost man who stumbled out of the desert into a fresh spring. The crisp sweet carbonation rolled onto my tongue and soothed all my senses. Lord, is this what heaven tastes like?
Later that evening I went to the gym and had my best workout since my Half Ironman in NOLA. I was pushing myself and my body was listening. For the first time in a month I felt like a genuine badass. Two and a half hours of pure awesomeness.
I hadn’t made the connection yet.
I got home, did some laundry and jumped in the shower. This is usually when I start to wind down. But I felt like I could still go out and run five miles. I looked at my hands and they were shaking. It was 11:30 at night so scrubbing my bathroom with military precision seemed like the right thing to do.
I have a beautiful shower. It is tiled with a glass door. I am a clean person, but I hate cleaning my shower. Not last night… I felt euphoria. Cleaning! Lord, is this what heaven feels like?
45 minutes of scrubbing later, my bathroom was ready to pass any white or black gloved inspection. But the rest of my house was already clean and I was still on fire. I went down to my basement to change out the laundry and started sprinting in place like “She’s a Maniac,” from Flashdance. It occurred to me that this is not what heaven feels like, but perhaps instead, cocaine. Bobby, Whitney, I get it. I’m not mad at you.
I want to say that I crashed and had a great deep sleep. But I turned on Ocean’s 11 and set my sleep timer. I followed along to every word and heard the TV click off 30 minutes later. My thoughts still raced. It’s not supposed to happen like that. The little sleep I was able to get turned me into an unsuccessful bank robber in cahoots with Matt Damon and George Clooney (not all together that bad). But I woke this morning with a headache, my body no doubt craving its new elixir. The idea of running two miles, let alone five seemed like a horribly unnatural idea. And Bobby and Whitney seemed once again a tragic prequel to The Legend of Charlie Sheen. *Losing.*
So what I know is that last night was amazing. But to be able to replicate that feeling will require me to completely abstain from caffeine for months so that my body will continue to react like crack to this wonderful over-the-counter drug. This just confirms what I’ve known all along. I am destined to be a superstar. And I will be much better at my recreational caffeine use because I am in control of my own body. And I can quit any time.
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