Just when I thought it was getting easier, this weekend rudely disrupted my growing sense of complacency to remind me that you cant break the habit of 12 years within a few weeks. I had thrown myself into training so much during the week that I hadn't bothered making any plans for Friday night. I decided to go to the cinema by myself to see 'Tyranosaur', a rather depressing, yet fantastic, British drama film. I left the Angelika Film Centre feeling pretty low, but fortunately I discovered a message on my phone from a friend inviting me to a bar which, coincidentally, was only a couple of blocks away. When I arrived I was pleased to find that the bar served a variety of non-alcoholic fruit tea cocktail drinks, which made a welcome change from my usual diet coke or water! I would love to report that I had a fun filled night out until the early hours, but unfortunately this was not the case. In fact, the evening left me feeling confused about my own attitudes towards the relationship between socialising and drinking.
To put it simply, I can completely understand why I don't want to stay out when everyone else is drunk. It just isn't fun when everyone is slurring and repeating themselves, that much is obvious. However I didn't understand why I seem to have less and less appetite for going out even during the 3-4 beer 'pre-drunk' phase. To use Friday night as an example: my friends were slowly drinking bottles of fairly weak Mexican beer, and in the hour or so that I was there they only had 2 each. Both of my friends are fairly experienced in the ways of drinking, so 2 bottles of beer are not going to have any noticeable effect. Therefore, for that hour we could say that all 3 of us are on a more or less equal terms, yet I found myself feeling fairly restless and wanting to leave. Why should this be the case? In the cab on the way home I pondered this question, and I think I came to a conclusion that makes sense to me. I have always been someone that gets genuinely excited about the 'what if?' of a Friday night. The anticipation, the build up, the endless possibilities that a weekend night in New York (or London) open up to those that are willing to explore! Where will we go? Who will I meet? Will I go home alone? All of these questions fly through my mind every Friday evening. I genuinely love the feeling of not knowing where the night will take me, simply knowing that I am going 'somewhere' is enough. For better or worse, the reality is that most of these evenings are fueled, or at least the cogs are lubricated, by alcohol. I realised that in knowing I have a certain 'cutoff' at which point my night will end, that 'what if' feeling is taken away from me, and the night seems pointless. As I stood in the bar with my 2 friends, the motivation for my departure had nothing to do with alcohol, but simple jealousy. Their night was just beginning, and mine was nearly over. If I couldn't go on the journey with them, I had no interest in accompanying them halfway. Reading this post back to myself (aside from noticing that my writing isn't really 'flowing' tonight, I apologise) I am struck by how obvious this sounds, but once again it is something that it has taken a sober perspective to understand.
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Days 13,14,15,16,17,18! Saturday 12th November to Thursday 17th November
As you may have noticed, I have neglected this blog over the past few days. This has been for two reasons..
1. I have been pretty busy, mainly with training.
2. I have realised that as my new found sobriety feels more natural, I will have less and less to say, and I dont want this to simply become a journal. In short, I don't want to write for the sake of writing.
I think the first point is the main reason I haven't had much motivation to write anything over the past few days, but the reasons go further than simple tiredness or lack of time. It is ironic, but the stability and peace of mind that running gives me means that I don't feel quite the same desire to get all of my thoughts out. A bad day at work or an evening where the bar is calling my name, can be quickly remedied by running. When that flame of frustration or anger is temporarily extinguished, it can be harder to write. I am not complaining. This is a good 'problem' to have.
In the coming weeks and months, expect my updates to fit this kind of format. Unless, of course, I have something particularly interesting to say.
Saturday 12th November
The novelty of having the freedom to wake up early on a Saturday morning has not yet abated, so by 7:30am I was raring to start my scheduled 8 mile run. I ran with a fellow member of NBR (North Brooklyn Runners) and had a relaxed 8min/mile run to Roosevelt Island and back, followed by a trip to Blue Bottle for the greatest ice coffee in the world...
In the afternoon, I went shopping. This is a pretty big deal for me as I do not enjoy shopping for anything other than clothes, and my goal for this trip was to find a desk and a chair so I can more easily study and work at home. I have planned this particular shopping trip many times in the months past, but through a combination of the regular Saturday hangover, my lack of energy due to too many late nights, and my natural predisposition for procrastination, I had yet to do it. Perhaps it is a measure of how long it has been since I felt like a 'normal person', but it is amazing how much satisfaction I am gaining from situations that to most people would be routine events. As I made my way home from the furniture store in Soho, I felt truly elated to be able to cross something off of my 'to do' list.
In the evening I walked around Greenpoint for a while with a friend, discussing our respective life changes and other matters. It was the first time since this experiment began that I can honestly say I had no desire to go to a bar, despite it being a Saturday night. In fact, as I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to carry me off through the night, it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I had such an enjoyable evening.
Sunday 13th November
The appeal of waking up early was slightly diminished today, for the good reason that I had a 16mile run ahead of me! It was the kind of morning where I let myself allow thoughts of 'why am I doing this??' to enter my mind, something which I am usually good at avoiding. I set off at 8am, a full hour later than I had wanted to, and I cant say I felt particularly motivated. I was running along Flushing Avenue feeling sorry for myself, when as if fate had intended it, I was given a motivational sign. Coming towards me in the opposite direction, I saw a smiling and waving figure. As I got closer I realised that it was one of the best runners in NBR, a man that had 7 days previously run 2:45 in the NYC Marathon. I had only run with him once before (a 5mile 7min/mile pace run that had left me on the verge of collapse!), but he remembered me and said a few words of encouragement as we passed each other. The fact that he was out running before me, despite such an awesome accomplishment barely a week before that would more than justify some time off for relaxation, was a welcome reminder that achievement takes sacrifice and hard work, and that my abstention from alcohol was nothing compared to the amount of work he is willing to put towards achieving his goals. As I crouched on the pavement at the end of my run, spitting into the gutter and trying not to throw up, I could only think about the feeling of motivation he had unwittingly given me that morning.
Monday 14th to Thursday 17th November
It is certainly getting easier as the days go by, or perhaps I have been so lax in keeping this blog up to date that I have simply forgotten how I felt this week. The only event of note during this period was a fantastic Tuesday night run with a friend in Central Park. 8 hilly miles in 57:54 may be laughable to 'serious' runners, or meaningless to those that don't run so have no frame of reference of whether this is good or not, but by my standard this is a massive leap forward. Frankly, if someone had told me one month ago that I'd be able to sustain a sub 7:15 min/mile pace for 8 miles, I wouldn't have believed them.
As I have said before, the training was a convenient peg on which to hang my decision to live without alcohol, and it has also made it easier to deal with the inevitable casual inquiry as to why I'm the only one without a drink. However, I do wonder how much harder this experiment would be if I didn't have such a time intensive activity, with tangible and quantifiable goals, to occupy my time. Perhaps I'll find out if I decide to make this a permanent lifestyle choice!
1. I have been pretty busy, mainly with training.
2. I have realised that as my new found sobriety feels more natural, I will have less and less to say, and I dont want this to simply become a journal. In short, I don't want to write for the sake of writing.
I think the first point is the main reason I haven't had much motivation to write anything over the past few days, but the reasons go further than simple tiredness or lack of time. It is ironic, but the stability and peace of mind that running gives me means that I don't feel quite the same desire to get all of my thoughts out. A bad day at work or an evening where the bar is calling my name, can be quickly remedied by running. When that flame of frustration or anger is temporarily extinguished, it can be harder to write. I am not complaining. This is a good 'problem' to have.
In the coming weeks and months, expect my updates to fit this kind of format. Unless, of course, I have something particularly interesting to say.
Saturday 12th November
The novelty of having the freedom to wake up early on a Saturday morning has not yet abated, so by 7:30am I was raring to start my scheduled 8 mile run. I ran with a fellow member of NBR (North Brooklyn Runners) and had a relaxed 8min/mile run to Roosevelt Island and back, followed by a trip to Blue Bottle for the greatest ice coffee in the world...
In the afternoon, I went shopping. This is a pretty big deal for me as I do not enjoy shopping for anything other than clothes, and my goal for this trip was to find a desk and a chair so I can more easily study and work at home. I have planned this particular shopping trip many times in the months past, but through a combination of the regular Saturday hangover, my lack of energy due to too many late nights, and my natural predisposition for procrastination, I had yet to do it. Perhaps it is a measure of how long it has been since I felt like a 'normal person', but it is amazing how much satisfaction I am gaining from situations that to most people would be routine events. As I made my way home from the furniture store in Soho, I felt truly elated to be able to cross something off of my 'to do' list.
In the evening I walked around Greenpoint for a while with a friend, discussing our respective life changes and other matters. It was the first time since this experiment began that I can honestly say I had no desire to go to a bar, despite it being a Saturday night. In fact, as I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to carry me off through the night, it occurred to me that I couldn't remember the last time I had such an enjoyable evening.
Sunday 13th November
The appeal of waking up early was slightly diminished today, for the good reason that I had a 16mile run ahead of me! It was the kind of morning where I let myself allow thoughts of 'why am I doing this??' to enter my mind, something which I am usually good at avoiding. I set off at 8am, a full hour later than I had wanted to, and I cant say I felt particularly motivated. I was running along Flushing Avenue feeling sorry for myself, when as if fate had intended it, I was given a motivational sign. Coming towards me in the opposite direction, I saw a smiling and waving figure. As I got closer I realised that it was one of the best runners in NBR, a man that had 7 days previously run 2:45 in the NYC Marathon. I had only run with him once before (a 5mile 7min/mile pace run that had left me on the verge of collapse!), but he remembered me and said a few words of encouragement as we passed each other. The fact that he was out running before me, despite such an awesome accomplishment barely a week before that would more than justify some time off for relaxation, was a welcome reminder that achievement takes sacrifice and hard work, and that my abstention from alcohol was nothing compared to the amount of work he is willing to put towards achieving his goals. As I crouched on the pavement at the end of my run, spitting into the gutter and trying not to throw up, I could only think about the feeling of motivation he had unwittingly given me that morning.
Monday 14th to Thursday 17th November
It is certainly getting easier as the days go by, or perhaps I have been so lax in keeping this blog up to date that I have simply forgotten how I felt this week. The only event of note during this period was a fantastic Tuesday night run with a friend in Central Park. 8 hilly miles in 57:54 may be laughable to 'serious' runners, or meaningless to those that don't run so have no frame of reference of whether this is good or not, but by my standard this is a massive leap forward. Frankly, if someone had told me one month ago that I'd be able to sustain a sub 7:15 min/mile pace for 8 miles, I wouldn't have believed them.
As I have said before, the training was a convenient peg on which to hang my decision to live without alcohol, and it has also made it easier to deal with the inevitable casual inquiry as to why I'm the only one without a drink. However, I do wonder how much harder this experiment would be if I didn't have such a time intensive activity, with tangible and quantifiable goals, to occupy my time. Perhaps I'll find out if I decide to make this a permanent lifestyle choice!
Day 12 - Friday 11th November
Once again, I was struck by the unusual feeling of waking up on a Friday morning with a completely clear, albeit tired, mind. Throughout my uneventful but productive day, I was consumed by thoughts of my latest 'new' experience that would occur that evening: a sober date.
To protect the innocent, I will not go in to the details of the evening, however suffice it to say that it was a far more disconcerting experience than I had envisaged. Perhaps I had grown 'over confident' in my ability to handle social situations without alcohol, but I did not feel comfortable. Certainly the amount of coffee I had consumed that day did not help, and neither am I a fan of anything other than very laid back Friday evenings, but I found my thoughts drifting to my early Saturday morning run, my day at work, my plans for the weekend...everything but the conversation with the charming and attractive person in front of me. My mind, which that day had been so active, seemed to be seizing up. Dating, particularly the NYC style of dating (London folk, I can explain separately, but trust me, it is different) which can often feel more like a job interview than a night out, is rarely a comfortable affair. The anxiety, nerves, and adrenalin that accompany the 'first date' are enough to drive anyone to drink. My friend and I often joke of the virtual necessity of a couple of 'looseners' before a date, and this is an approach I had followed religiously in the past year of being single, occasionally to levels where 'loose' would be something of an understatement. Not having the ability to simply drink my way through the uncomfortable moments was not something that I enjoyed, and I'm pretty sure the person I was with was able to sense that. The night ended fairly early, with vague promises of 'doing it again sometime', but I think this was more to avoid an awkward goodbye. However later I was also struck by the thought that perhaps this date was not dissimilar to any other that I had been on, and my clarity of mind served to amplify the absurdity of a situation that we willingly put ourselves through in the pursuit of companionship. Once again, experience will yield a more firm answer.
When I relayed the full story to my friends in London on Monday, I was met with a rather cynical, but perhaps accurate, summation of my situation..."I'm not surprised. Do you really think you want to date someone who'd date someone who doesn't drink? I think you're going to have to just not see any girls for a while."
Another close friend, who chose to stop drinking over a year ago, has an incredible knack of explaining feelings that I am experiencing yet am not eloquent enough to express. When I told him the story of my Friday night, he said something which both moved and encouraged me, because I could identify with it so closely. I paraphrase, but it was along the lines of "when you are no longer in that self destructive state of mind, you stop hating yourself and you value yourself more. You don't look at awkward dates or a lack of chemistry as a personal failing, but rather you see it for what it is, a lack of chemistry, something simple and nothing to be ashamed of. You stop seeing everything in terms of what the other person thinks of you, and you become proud of yourself and the person you are."
With all respect to my friend in London, I think I prefer the second explanation.
To protect the innocent, I will not go in to the details of the evening, however suffice it to say that it was a far more disconcerting experience than I had envisaged. Perhaps I had grown 'over confident' in my ability to handle social situations without alcohol, but I did not feel comfortable. Certainly the amount of coffee I had consumed that day did not help, and neither am I a fan of anything other than very laid back Friday evenings, but I found my thoughts drifting to my early Saturday morning run, my day at work, my plans for the weekend...everything but the conversation with the charming and attractive person in front of me. My mind, which that day had been so active, seemed to be seizing up. Dating, particularly the NYC style of dating (London folk, I can explain separately, but trust me, it is different) which can often feel more like a job interview than a night out, is rarely a comfortable affair. The anxiety, nerves, and adrenalin that accompany the 'first date' are enough to drive anyone to drink. My friend and I often joke of the virtual necessity of a couple of 'looseners' before a date, and this is an approach I had followed religiously in the past year of being single, occasionally to levels where 'loose' would be something of an understatement. Not having the ability to simply drink my way through the uncomfortable moments was not something that I enjoyed, and I'm pretty sure the person I was with was able to sense that. The night ended fairly early, with vague promises of 'doing it again sometime', but I think this was more to avoid an awkward goodbye. However later I was also struck by the thought that perhaps this date was not dissimilar to any other that I had been on, and my clarity of mind served to amplify the absurdity of a situation that we willingly put ourselves through in the pursuit of companionship. Once again, experience will yield a more firm answer.
When I relayed the full story to my friends in London on Monday, I was met with a rather cynical, but perhaps accurate, summation of my situation..."I'm not surprised. Do you really think you want to date someone who'd date someone who doesn't drink? I think you're going to have to just not see any girls for a while."
Another close friend, who chose to stop drinking over a year ago, has an incredible knack of explaining feelings that I am experiencing yet am not eloquent enough to express. When I told him the story of my Friday night, he said something which both moved and encouraged me, because I could identify with it so closely. I paraphrase, but it was along the lines of "when you are no longer in that self destructive state of mind, you stop hating yourself and you value yourself more. You don't look at awkward dates or a lack of chemistry as a personal failing, but rather you see it for what it is, a lack of chemistry, something simple and nothing to be ashamed of. You stop seeing everything in terms of what the other person thinks of you, and you become proud of yourself and the person you are."
With all respect to my friend in London, I think I prefer the second explanation.
Friday, 11 November 2011
Day 11 - Thursday 10th November
A relatively easy day today. A productive day at work, followed by a rather intense 'hill repeat' workout, before going to meet friends for a curry. Traditionally in the UK, the 'curry house' experience is often a rather drunken affair, however the restaurant my friend had chosen had a Michelin star and was certainly different to the kind of Indian restaurant I am used to. Our request for poppadoms and mango chutney was met with a confused silence, the wine list consisted of more than just 'red' and 'white', and the elegant clientele would probably look quite out of place at 'Mirch Marsala' on Norbury High Street! The sophisticated vibe certainly made it a lot easier for me to stick to water, although when everyone ordered beers I have to admit that I was very jealous. Once again I was struck by how little anyone seemed to care. After some initial (and expected) light mocking, my requests for water or diet coke were met without question. After the meal we headed to a bar in the West Village. This was the only point in the night where clutching a diet Coke made me feel slightly conspicuous. The girl working behind the bar asked why I wasn't drinking, and I didn't feel quite as engaged in the conversation. I'm not sure if being in a busy bar without drinking is simply not as fun, or if the sensible decision making that has been a welcome side effect of this experiment meant that by 11:30 I was thinking about having to get up for work tomorrow. I think it's a mixture of both. My friends were not drunk, so I was still enjoying their company, but I was also a lot more aware of the time. Whatever the reason, I left and went home.
Something I have noticed during this experiment is how much I am questioning and analyzing everything. The clarity of thought that I have reclaimed means that I am looking at everything from a new angle, under a new light, a new perspective. By pure coincidence, I recently read a passage that deals with concept of perspective, and I really like it....
Friday night will be another first, a sober date. Until tomorrow....
Something I have noticed during this experiment is how much I am questioning and analyzing everything. The clarity of thought that I have reclaimed means that I am looking at everything from a new angle, under a new light, a new perspective. By pure coincidence, I recently read a passage that deals with concept of perspective, and I really like it....
“STOP! DON’T SWEAT IT. SIMPLY MOVE A FEW INCHES LEFT OR RIGHT TO GET A NEW VIEWPOINT. Look…reality is greater than the sum of its parts, also a damn sight holier. And the lives of such stuff as dreams are made of may be rounded with a sleep but they are not tied neatly with a red bow. Truth doesn’t run on time like a commuter train, though time may run on truth. And the scenes gone by and the scenes to come flow blending together in the sea-green deep while NOW spreads in circles on the surface. So don’t sweat it. For focus simply move a few inches back or forward. And once more…look.”
Bonus point to anyone that can name the novel it came from without Googling. I'll give you a clue, it's set in Oregon.
Friday night will be another first, a sober date. Until tomorrow....
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Day 10 - Wednesday 10th November
Following on from yesterday's post, a thought kept popping into my head today:- Am I busy in the evenings because I have more energy and motivation to do 'stuff', or am I keeping myself busy as a way to avoid downtime and temptation? There is no doubt that part of my drinking was/is.....in fact, that reminds me, if you will allow me a quick diversion; I keep struggling with tense when writing this blog! Is it too presumptuous to refer to drinking in the past tense? Does 10 days of abstention mean that I can refer to it as if I am a changed man? As if it were another lifetime? Another person? Probably not. However, for the purposes of this blog I will refer to it in the past tense, and hopefully as the days and weeks go by it wont sound quite so preposterous. Anyway, as I was saying, there is no doubt that part of the reason that many people drink is down to boredom and sometimes loneliness. I live by myself, and as much as I enjoy my own space, there is no doubt that occasionally it can be hard. I firmly believe that even in the closest relationship, no matter how well you get on with someone, spending all of your time with them is not healthy. I think that can be true of yourself as well. It sounds odd, but I end up getting on my own nerves! (I know, I know, amazing isn't it?...I can almost hear the incredulous cries of those of you that know me..."Paul? Annoying? Never!!") On many occasions I would head to the bar not because I particularly wanted to drink, but because I just wanted to be around other people. Of course the irony of this fool's errand is that sitting at a bar surrounded by groups of laughing friends can make you acutely aware of the fact that you are sitting in a primarily social environment, by yourself. There are only so many times you can check Facebook on your phone before it starts to make you feel worse than simply sitting at home watching TV! But you do it anyway, and you end up making conversation with someone clearly in the same situation as you, but your common reason for being there goes unmentioned out of a combination of mutual awkwardness and embarrassment. You muse over memories of the times you went out by yourself and had genuinely fun nights, or an interesting conversation, or pulled a random girl, and those thoughts keeps you there. (God, this is starting to sound like the words to 'How Soon is Now'!!..."there's a club if you like to go...so you go and you stand on your own...and you leave on your own...") Then someone buys you a shot, and you stay out late, and this creates a kind of negative feedback loop where you feel tired and irritable the next day so you cant be bothered doing anything after work, so you get bored and go back to the bar and...well, you get the picture. I'm probably being a little too negative there as I have had some great nights hanging out in my local, but I'm describing the negative side. In the past 10 days I've done something every night, and this is a new experience for me, or at least a feeling that I had forgotten. Obviously my training has really kicked up a gear, so even on the nights when I'm 'not doing anything' I'm still running, but I've also been shopping, attending shows, working late...is this because of a boost in energy and motivation, or deep down am I just trying to avoid being by myself without my usual escape route? As with most of the questions that I have pondered over the past couple of weeks, only time will tell!
As for the specifics of my temptation avoidance tactics/new found lease of life (delete as appropriate):- Today I stuck around at work a little later than usual. Not as late as yesterday, but I was certainly in no rush to leave. I then went to Paragon, the big sports store in Union Sq, to buy some compression sleeves for my calves. I was shocked to discover that they cost $50, but I bought them anyway as my training is already at such an intense level (by my standards) that I am willing to take all the help I can get, even if the 'help' is purely psychosomatic. On my way home I definitely noticed a diminished desire to head through the door as I walked past my local bar, although I am beginning to miss the locals. I have already told a few of them of this experiment so that they don't worry about me (it's that kind of place, the people are amazing) and I am thinking that eventually I will begin to visit again to enjoy a soda and catch up with everyone. I finished my evening with a 3.5 mile 'recovery run' through the streets of Greenpoint and Williamsburg. Once again I went out a little too quickly and finished in 24:22, which rather defeats the purpose of it being a recovery run. I forget that I've still got weight to lose, and I really dont want to get injured.
Tomorrow shall be an interesting test....a curry with 5 other English blokes at an Indian Restaurant. I'm pretty sure it's illegal, or at the very least not advisable, to go to a curry house and not drink, so it's going to feel weird! I'm already worried that I'll discover the curry house experience isnt quite the same without a pint of Kingfisher and the haze of a some pre-dinner beers!
As for the specifics of my temptation avoidance tactics/new found lease of life (delete as appropriate):- Today I stuck around at work a little later than usual. Not as late as yesterday, but I was certainly in no rush to leave. I then went to Paragon, the big sports store in Union Sq, to buy some compression sleeves for my calves. I was shocked to discover that they cost $50, but I bought them anyway as my training is already at such an intense level (by my standards) that I am willing to take all the help I can get, even if the 'help' is purely psychosomatic. On my way home I definitely noticed a diminished desire to head through the door as I walked past my local bar, although I am beginning to miss the locals. I have already told a few of them of this experiment so that they don't worry about me (it's that kind of place, the people are amazing) and I am thinking that eventually I will begin to visit again to enjoy a soda and catch up with everyone. I finished my evening with a 3.5 mile 'recovery run' through the streets of Greenpoint and Williamsburg. Once again I went out a little too quickly and finished in 24:22, which rather defeats the purpose of it being a recovery run. I forget that I've still got weight to lose, and I really dont want to get injured.
Tomorrow shall be an interesting test....a curry with 5 other English blokes at an Indian Restaurant. I'm pretty sure it's illegal, or at the very least not advisable, to go to a curry house and not drink, so it's going to feel weird! I'm already worried that I'll discover the curry house experience isnt quite the same without a pint of Kingfisher and the haze of a some pre-dinner beers!
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
Day 9 - Tuesday 8th November
A short update today. I'm aware that I'm not always going to have something interesting to say, so I want to avoid the temptation to write simply to fill empty space. As I have mentioned before, I want to really try and get across the ideas and concepts that I have thought about in relation to 'it', but there is no point writing if I'm not feeling it.
Anyway, today I learned an important lesson:- sometimes, even when you have totally abstained from alcohol and had lots of good quality sleep, you can still wake up feeling like shit. Today was one of those days. I felt tired all day and it was a struggle to get out of bed. Not going to dwell on it, but it was quite disappointing to feel like I had a hangover without the pleasure of drinking!
However I also learned that my ridiculously improved run of Saturday was not a fluke! I ran 8 miles in Central Park tonight with a time of 58:10 which is a 7:16 pace! It felt great.
The only sign of this lifestyle change that I noticed today was a willingness to stay at work late. Obviously I am happy to stay late if something needs to get done, but after I got back to the office from my run around Central Park I just hung out for a while doing a few things that could easily have waited before leaving at 9pm. Every night of this experiment I have had something to do, and tonight was the first night that I did not. Maybe subconsciously I was nervous about being by myself with the temptation to hang out at the bar.....or maybe I was just winding down after my run. A small observation, but I definitely noticed it.
Anyway, today I learned an important lesson:- sometimes, even when you have totally abstained from alcohol and had lots of good quality sleep, you can still wake up feeling like shit. Today was one of those days. I felt tired all day and it was a struggle to get out of bed. Not going to dwell on it, but it was quite disappointing to feel like I had a hangover without the pleasure of drinking!
However I also learned that my ridiculously improved run of Saturday was not a fluke! I ran 8 miles in Central Park tonight with a time of 58:10 which is a 7:16 pace! It felt great.
The only sign of this lifestyle change that I noticed today was a willingness to stay at work late. Obviously I am happy to stay late if something needs to get done, but after I got back to the office from my run around Central Park I just hung out for a while doing a few things that could easily have waited before leaving at 9pm. Every night of this experiment I have had something to do, and tonight was the first night that I did not. Maybe subconsciously I was nervous about being by myself with the temptation to hang out at the bar.....or maybe I was just winding down after my run. A small observation, but I definitely noticed it.
Monday, 7 November 2011
Day 8 - Monday 7th November
Probably the most difficult day since this experiment began. It started so well. I woke up at 5:45am to a beautiful sunrise and blasted through a 3.1 mile run through the streets of Greenpoint in 21mins flat, for a pace of 6:55. I even saw someone who I had worked with at the Marathon water station yesterday, although I think I was still half asleep as I only realised it was her about 5 seconds after she ran past. I hope she doesn't think I was being rude.
From the moment I got to work I knew it was going to be 'one of those days'. I don't intend to talk about work on this blog as...
a) I don't think it's relevant.
b) I don't want this to become my journal. The focus is on running and abstaining from alcohol and I don't want it to deviate too far from that.
c) I want this to remain semi-anonymous and I don't want to get fired!
....but as it is relevant to this posting all I will say is that my job satisfaction is characterised by fairly extreme highs and lows. I'm sure this isn't unique, work is a part of life, and life has it's ups and downs. However, today was a low day. A very low, low day. The reasons why are not important, but by the end of the day I was in an extremely dark mood. I was finding it difficult to talk to anyone and, rather than stay late to get some stuff done as I had planned, decided to leave on time at 5:30. As I emerged from the subway back in Brooklyn, every instinct was imploring me to head to the bar and have a couple of beers to unwind. The scowl on my face could not be removed, and the anger that had built up over the course of the day was eating away at me. A short and fast run may have helped, but I had run already today and am conscious of over training and injuring myself so that was not an option. We all know the caricature of the stressed out office worker drinking away the stresses of the day, and this is a mold that I fit with some regularity. On occasions such as this, common sense has no place in the decision making process. In the same way that an obese man eats a Big Mac knowing that is what is making him fat, the logical side of my brain is totally aware that this course of action usually makes the situation worse, but it never seems to make any difference. I have done this so many times before that it's almost automatic. To be clear, I'm not talking about getting wasted or staying out all night, but I'm talking about the 3-4 beers and maybe a shot that will be enough to tilt the week into a downward trajectory of bad sleep, bad food, tiredness, and self anger (I lingered over the term 'self loathing' for a while there, but I feel that could be overstating it). I feel that I'm pretty committed to this experiment and it has only been 8 days so far, so at no point did I genuinely think that I'd cave in and go for a beer, but it was tough to have to deal with a day like this without my usual.....usual......my usual what? I'm trying to think of how I would describe 'it' and all I can think of is the word 'companion'. Dealing with a bad day without my usual companion. It sounds odd to put it that way, but it seems the most apt to me.The parallels that can be drawn between 'it' and an actual human relationship are something that I have been thinking about a lot recently and intend on writing about soon, once I have figured out what I am trying to say.
In the event, I went to a coffee shop just so I could be somewhere busy. Much to my disgust, like one of those annoyingly pretentious people that I cannot stand, I found myself opening my laptop and starting to type. What have I become? Sitting in a coffee shop in Greenpoint, blogging, listening to the Brian Jonestown Massacre, and occasionally checking Twitter! I just need to grow a beard now for the image to be complete.
From the moment I got to work I knew it was going to be 'one of those days'. I don't intend to talk about work on this blog as...
a) I don't think it's relevant.
b) I don't want this to become my journal. The focus is on running and abstaining from alcohol and I don't want it to deviate too far from that.
c) I want this to remain semi-anonymous and I don't want to get fired!
....but as it is relevant to this posting all I will say is that my job satisfaction is characterised by fairly extreme highs and lows. I'm sure this isn't unique, work is a part of life, and life has it's ups and downs. However, today was a low day. A very low, low day. The reasons why are not important, but by the end of the day I was in an extremely dark mood. I was finding it difficult to talk to anyone and, rather than stay late to get some stuff done as I had planned, decided to leave on time at 5:30. As I emerged from the subway back in Brooklyn, every instinct was imploring me to head to the bar and have a couple of beers to unwind. The scowl on my face could not be removed, and the anger that had built up over the course of the day was eating away at me. A short and fast run may have helped, but I had run already today and am conscious of over training and injuring myself so that was not an option. We all know the caricature of the stressed out office worker drinking away the stresses of the day, and this is a mold that I fit with some regularity. On occasions such as this, common sense has no place in the decision making process. In the same way that an obese man eats a Big Mac knowing that is what is making him fat, the logical side of my brain is totally aware that this course of action usually makes the situation worse, but it never seems to make any difference. I have done this so many times before that it's almost automatic. To be clear, I'm not talking about getting wasted or staying out all night, but I'm talking about the 3-4 beers and maybe a shot that will be enough to tilt the week into a downward trajectory of bad sleep, bad food, tiredness, and self anger (I lingered over the term 'self loathing' for a while there, but I feel that could be overstating it). I feel that I'm pretty committed to this experiment and it has only been 8 days so far, so at no point did I genuinely think that I'd cave in and go for a beer, but it was tough to have to deal with a day like this without my usual.....usual......my usual what? I'm trying to think of how I would describe 'it' and all I can think of is the word 'companion'. Dealing with a bad day without my usual companion. It sounds odd to put it that way, but it seems the most apt to me.The parallels that can be drawn between 'it' and an actual human relationship are something that I have been thinking about a lot recently and intend on writing about soon, once I have figured out what I am trying to say.
In the event, I went to a coffee shop just so I could be somewhere busy. Much to my disgust, like one of those annoyingly pretentious people that I cannot stand, I found myself opening my laptop and starting to type. What have I become? Sitting in a coffee shop in Greenpoint, blogging, listening to the Brian Jonestown Massacre, and occasionally checking Twitter! I just need to grow a beard now for the image to be complete.
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