My Addicition

I don't smoke.  I don't do "drugs." I drink an adult beverage only on rare occaisions.  I don't even drink coffee or tea.  I'm not looking for a medal or anything.  I just thought I was out of the woods, so to speak.  I wasn't addicted to any substances, except that I drank Dr. Pepper for breakfast.  And lunch, and dinner, and between meals in 32 oz. cups.  I stopped at every convenience store and drive-thru window.  I couldn't go a couple of hours without Dr. Pepper, and I had no idea how much it affected me.

I know, or at least I suppose, that kicking a Dr. Pepper habit is not comparable to drug rehab or quitting smoking, and I hope those who have gone through those experiences aren't offended when I call my habit an addiction.  I'm sure I have it much easier, and I'm thankful for that.  But I do know that it had a grip on me, and I never knew how much until I attempted to stop.  The rationalizations of an addict crept into my mind: "I can't stop today, I have too much to do, and I won't have any energy if I don't get some Dr. Pepper."  "I'm really tired this morning.  I'll stop next week when things settle down."  "Today was a really bad day, and this DP will make me feel better."  I guess it sounds kind of pathetic, but I thought them more than once.

I'm now about 3 weeks without Dr. Pepper or any other caffeinated drink.  There are a lot of experts out there who say a bit of daily caffeine can actually be good for you, and I'm not arguing with that, but considering where I was, I needed to know what it felt like to go through a day without chemical stimulation.  I am amazed.  In the morning, I just wake up.  Before, I think I was waking up in the middle of a crash, feeling generally bad and convinced that my entire day would feel the same way if I didn't get a Dr. Pepper in me pretty soon.  My physical and emotional state is also much more consistent through the day.  I don't get jittery and irritable like I did on a sugar-and-caffeine rush, and I don't tank afterward.  My mood and energy swings weren't even from good to bad; they were from up-bad to down-bad.  Now, if I have a loss of self-control, I don't have anything to blame it on.

I lost 6 lbs. in a week just from ditching the DP and drinking water instead.  I don't expect that trend to continue, but there is no doubt I was steadily gaining weight from drinking sodas.  Getting rid of the DP seems to be making it easier to make other changes in my diet also, like eating less fast food and junk food.  Fruit doesn't taste bad when your tongue hasn't already OD'd on corn syrup.  Trust me, I'm a Doctor.

The Inciting Incident

A general rule in creating stories is that characters don't want to change.  They must be forced to change.  Nobody wakes up and starts chasing a bad guy or dismantling a bomb unless someone forces them to do so.  The bad guys just robbed your house and are running off with your last roll of toilet paper, or the bomb is strapped to your favorite cat. It's that sort of thing that gets a character moving.

                      -Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years


I got Donald Miller's new book for Christmas and, since it's been unusually cold for Texas, I've been indoors more with time to read. In A Million Miles, Miller looks at his life as a story and asks a poignant question: would anyone be interested in reading it, or watching it on a screen?  For him, the answer was "no," so he set out to live a more interesting story.  Almost immediately he discovered that a better story required effort he was unwilling to render.  He needed an "inciting incident," one of those events in all the great stories that forces the protagonist into action.  As it turns out, our heroes don't necessarily have greater willpower than we do; their stories lead them into circumstances that force them out of the comfort and security we usually crave.

Last Sunday was January 3.  Having just returned from the food orgy we call the holidays, I walked into the men's locker room at the Y (no, I wasn't there to exercise--our church meets at the local YMCA) and, in a moment of pure insanity, stepped on the scales.  210.  The most I've ever weighed in my life.  25 lbs. heavier than I was in my 20s and most of my 30s.  I have a gut.  My waist has expanded a couple of inches.  I used to revel in the fact that I could eat as I pleased and not gain weight.  I used to be able to flip a quarter over with my stomach muscles.  Now I could probably lose a quarter on my stomach.  I outlasted many of my peers, but my metabolism has finally caught up with me.

Not having had to worry about such things earlier in my life, I find the idea of dieting and exercise to lose weight repulsive.  I love physical activity for fun and experience, but not weight loss.  And I have a multi-year habit of drinking gallons of Dr. Pepper and eating whatever strikes my fancy.  I walked into the Y last Sunday with no intention of going on a diet.  I even had a conversation with my wife on Saturday about how cliche it was to go on a diet in January.

Enter the Inciting Incident.

Not ten minutes had passed since my episode on the scales, when I overheard one of the guys at church say something about a triathlon.  Then another guy, and another guy.  Before long, I discovered the source: my friends and neighbors, Stan and Scott, had concocted a scheme to recruit all of us men to register for a mini-triathlon in April and train together between now and then.  They used all the right buzzwords about building community and getting sponsors who would donate to charity if we completed the race; and they promised it would be a "no man left behind" event, where we would all stay together and encourage each other to finish. They even played the "we need to be an example to our kids" card.  Stan's whole face lit up when he talked about it.  Apparently people actually look forward to this kind of torture.

Only minutes earlier, participating in a triathlon ranked in my mind somewhere below a colonoscopy, getting shot and lunch at a tea room followed by purse shopping.  Now I couldn't say no.  I would be a wuss and a bad leader.  I wouldn't be championing the values of community I talk about so often.  And it was for charity.  !%&*#@!!.  Of all the gin joints in all the world, Stan had to walk into mine.  I hate inciting incidents.

I started this week with changes in diet only.  Monday I bought a case of waters, a case of Gatorade G2s and a crate of sugar-free gum.  I am now 6 days without Dr. Pepper or fast food.  Next week: exercise.  Stay tuned for the progress report.

Gateway To the Bay sprint triathlon, Saturday, April 10, 2010.  500-meter swim in the bay, 14-mile bike ride and 3.1 mile run. All encouragement is welcome, and I will post info soon on donating to our charitable cause.