Thursday, July 11, 2013
I'm in training for a 5K. I'm very nervous about it, because A) it's the first one I've ever done and B) it's not just a 5K it's a "mud run". (It's this one). Also B and 1/2) it's summer, it's humid, and I have no tolerance for extreme temperatures or bright lights. I saw my wife run a 5K once. She has exercise-induced asthma, spring allergies, but she jogged the whole way (good for her!). But she was in a sorry state when she was done, and she was in better shape than me (at the time).
I agreed to go with my sister as doing some kind of family... bonding... thing [twirls claw]. Why she didn't pick something easier, I don't know. You get beer at the end of it, but I don't know what kind, and you only get one. It better be a big one for all this. I've been jogging and working out at the gym with this event in mind, plus this week, I am running every day until Saturday, when the 5K is.
As part of my training, I have pledged to stay dry until the race is over. (Dry as in alcohol-free, not dry as in not wet.) I haven't had a drop since July 4th, not even a beer or cider, so that'll be nine days sober at the end of it ("Barney, this is a five-minute chip"). There's something about not being able to drink that makes you want one more. I know this'll eventually turn out good for me. And I know I'll feel great at the end. But I also know that I'll go right back to drinking when I'm done.
Hell, I'm afraid that as soon as I get home I'll go straight to the liquor cabinet and slosh myself for the rest of the day. Of course, you say the obvious answer: "don't". But the fact is I prefer that altered state, that sense of not having to worry about what I say or do any given moment. The hyper-awareness of everything around me becoming dulled. Sometimes I feel like Sherlock Holmes, but not as smart or charismatic. And alcohol's is a great panacea for that.
Of course, this probably means I am going to turn into the old man who needs a scotch a day to fall asleep, and then die from horrible liver failure. I'll be the one nodding off in the chair, while my wife reassures the grandkids "It's all right, grandpa just has a little problem". It's just not something I want to give up. Like, ever.
My moral compass is very rigid, so I would never try illegal drugs or marijuna. And I abhor the idea of smoking -- I love the smell of smoke, but the idea of breathing in all that ash and tar and poison (not to mention the horribly addicting nature of nicotine) fills me with the ookies.
So that leaves frequent masturbation and alcohol as my escapism highs. All-in-all, it could be worse, if you look at it the right way.