BIKES
Me and beer go way back. As a child, I remember reaching up and taking a sip from my father’s Pabst Blue Ribbon as I watched he and my uncles play euchre deep into the night. I remember my teenage weekend ritual of two 40 ouncers of Colt 45 Malt Liquor, as my friends and I taunted full-blown delinquency. Fortunately, my scrawny 20s and early 30s were less alcohol soaked, but I remember buying a six pack of North Peak Brewery’s Diabolical IPA (6.6%) nearly every night as I entered my late 30s. And as I approached my 50s, I remember driving back late at night from a friend’s house after a ride with my buddies, unable to focus my eyes, try as I might, on the quivering road signs.
And just recently, I remember vividly the day I joined my son for the last 60 miles of his 100 mile ride, commemorating his 100th day without alcohol.
I’m no stranger to substance addiction and kicking a habit: At one point in my life, I was chewing two cans of Kodiak a day. I remember sitting at a bar smoking a cigarette and throwing in a dip. My last thought most nights was how I got to wake up the next day and feel that wonderful sting as the nicotine kicked in.
My come-to-Jesus moment wasn’t after the second time my younger son took a swig from my spit bottle, mistaking it for Dr. Pepper. Selfishly, it was probably when the dentist told me that my gums were irreversibly receding; he showed me the exposed roots of my eye teeth and predicted my future.
A year later, I crushed a final, full pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights and threw it out the window. I still occasionally have dreams of of spitting out chewing tobacco and teeth.
Then this year’s New Year’s Eve afternoon: two Twisted Teas, a Tallboy IPA, a double shot of Maker’s Mark, the last three fingers of a bottle of wine. That stream continued into the night with more whiskey and beer. Disturbingly, I woke up the next day feeling fine. I had emerged from my first and only previous Dry January a couple of years ago with a firm resolve to cut way back on my consumption– you can see how that worked out.
This article helped get me going this time. The author examines his relationship to alcohol as a long distance backpacker, but also the larger phenomenon of excessive drinking among outdoor athletes. I liked this paragraph especially:
“This isn’t some call for prohibition or even temperance. I have had far too much fun for far too long with the aegis of alcohol to criticize anyone else or even suggest that they change, and I don’t know really know if I’ve had my last drink. Maybe this is my self-righteous phase, conveniently backed by science? But drinking, and drinking hard, often seems an ineluctable part of distance-hiking and sports culture at large. I think it’s worth having a conversation about the compromises it entails and what we may gain when we back off or away.“
The first two weeks this time have gone amazingly well, except for the to-be-expected sugar cravings. Athletic Brewing’s Hazy IPA certainly helped. And these:
Then Some…Sobering News. So it came a shock when I read this during the third week of my Dry January. The author examines the marketing relationship between what I’ll call Big Alcohol and outdoor athletes. Interesting: I didn’t know that Phillip Morris, the tobacco company, bought Miller Brewing as an attempt to diversify after word got out that cigarettes will kill you. Today, “Sports have since become a cornerstone for alcohol marketing….Most importantly, associating with sports helps alcohol companies achieve the same goal the tobacco companies once had.”
Then the mirror glass description of the drinking habits of Mark Taylor and Mia Phillips, as well as those in their mountain biking circle of friends.
That’s me in those descriptions.
Most of my friends, too.
Those habits and behaviors, which once defined my identity as a rider, now make me feel like a stereotype and a cliche, an even greater cliche than just another person jumping on this year’s trendy Dry January bandwagon.
It’s a good article, if you have time to read it. Made me think. But in the end, even the author admits that she’s not sure if she’s had her last drop of alcohol, despite all the alarming statistics. And neither am I….maybe.
So here’s how the past few weeks have gone for me. This time around, I’ve tried to identify my cravings as just that: cravings. Once I’ve labeled and objectified them, they seem easier to get through.
Then there’s the occasions for drinking.
- After work
- Tinkering in the garage
- Going out to eat
- Going on a hike
- Fishing
- Horseback riding
- When I’m bored
- When I’m watching tv in the evening
- When I’m writing my blog
- When I’m driving, as embarrassing as it is to admit
- When I’m riding with my friends
- After a ride, the most difficult craving to resist
I’ve tried to approach each as a milestone, again objectifying them. It seems to work.
The results so far: marked increase in mental energy, and my wife and I had one of the better weekends of our wonderful marriage. I’m not expecting instant miracles. One month off won’t really have any physiological effects, but maybe it will?
Now here I am feeling strong going into the last few days. Ironically, this weekend my wife and I will be celebrating a family member’s hard-won sobriety, after his long history of bottoming out, resurfacing, only to bottom out again.
One last thought, though: as I’m about to leave this keyboard and engage in another obsessive behavior, jumping on the indoor trainer (even though I could probably use a rest day), I wonder if cycling is just another……nah. Easy does it, Pops.
FISH
