Go Pats!
I’ve been thinking the past week about what topic to cover first. There’s a good bit of ground to cover since we last saw each other in September of 2017. One subject sticks out more than most. My decision to give up alcohol on February 5, 2018. If you do the math, you’ll realize it was the day after the Super Bowl. My swan song of sorts. And no it didn’t come as the result of a DUI or my wife catching me streaking naked through the quad a la “Frank the Tank” style. So why then? I mean really, the Pats won. Or at least I think they did. To be honest the second half is a bit hazy.
In Order to Begin, Begin
I guess the best way to describe it is that I wasn’t feeling like myself. The light had dimmed, and among the contributing factors, alcohol was near the top of the list. It was the one variable that I could immediately eliminate, so I did. I wasn’t some blathering drunk, at least not most of the time. And in the words often spoken by my coach, “In order to begin, begin.” Probably a quote from an old Bruce Lee movie. I’ll give him full credit for now. What I am trying to say is I began.
Short, Bald, and Pudgy
Physically, I think it took my body about 3 months to realize I wasn’t joking around. This was not a 2 week cleanse so to speak. Slowly but surely I started to see that expensive double IPA fat layer around my mid section disappear. I’m not a big guy. I add the “and a half” to my towering stature of 5 foot 7 inches when asked. And being somewhat short, weighing 165 to 170 pounds really doesn’t fit my frame. I remember stepping onto the scale and seeing 178 pounds at one point. Pudgy. I was getting pudgy. Short, bald, and pudgy. Not a good look. I used to struggle to get to 159 pounds in order to make the 150 pound weight bracket. I always ate healthy, probably healthier than most, but you can’t outrun all those empty calories. The math simply doesn’t work. Today, a little over a year and half later, I walk around at 145 pounds. No real change in diet, and my weight is consistent, give or take a couple pounds in either direction. I feel great most days, and my back issues have all but disappeared. I mean think about it. I had what amounts to a small dog strapped to my waist 24/7. That can’t be good, even if you love dogs.
Lifting That Fog
Alcohol has a way of fogging the mind. At least for me it did. And I only know this because I have the hindsight now with which to make the comparison. For example, I’d make a mental note in practice or coach would give me some really good instruction. I had all good intentions of putting them to practice. But that’s all they really were. Good intentions. In most cases, I would have forgotten that mental note a day later or completely dismissed the instruction. Don’t get me wrong, this middle aged brain can take a few kicks to get started. Coach seems to think I have Jiu Jitsu dyslexia which I always find quite funny. I can say with confidence that I remember a lot more. And the end result is that intention has found its way to application with a heck of a lot more consistency. Jiu Jitsu will always remind us and keep us honest in the form of a tap, snap, or nap.
Drunk Ninjas
You won’t hear me preaching the gospel of sobriety on the street corner. In fact, if you gave me a hall pass with no consequence and 1000 beers, you’d be turning in the empties tomorrow for their nickel to tune of $50. Until that happens, I’ll stick to the plan. In closing, I promise to never mention this topic again, because one thing I have learned is this belongs to me and me alone. It has however shaped a lot of what has transpired since we last talked, and I wanted to get it out of the way at the onset. If any of this rings true for you, it may be something to give a little consideration. Or not. Be a drunk ninja. Don’t be a drunk ninja. Whatever. For me personally, I haven’t looked back with an ounce of regret.
Happy Friday the 13th.
Until next time…
Ted