Serious

I had to do an exercise for my counselling subject where I set a goal, broke it down into components and then later rated how I was going. I decided to use it as a bit of a kick-start to do something I've wanted to do for quite a while but never got around to tackling. There are a lot of ways to put this (and believe me I've used them all)
minimise the sherbies
cut down the booze
stay off the grog
but the guts of it is, I wanted to
STOP DRINKING EVERY DAY.
There. I've said it. That's what I was doing. Over this long, exciting, dream-come-true, hard work summer, J and I have come to realise that we handle stress with treats. Usually ones from a nicely-shaped bottle. Hardly ever to 'excess', rarely in front of Noddie, never when driving. Nothing squalid, nothing glamourous. Some days we had just a glass, some days lots more than that. Gradually the frequency crept up.
I've often wondered why hitting the turps is seen as so much more of a fault than, say, eating lots of chocolate - there, see? that just sounds cute! - or wasting time on Facebook - that's social networking! Drinking full-strength cola? That's a lifestyle choice! But drinking every day? Ooooh....that's bad. That's weak. That's half way to bad teeth and derro coats. That's a licence to frown, and make suggestions about 'getting help'. That's something to be judged. Drinking every day cancels out every other virtuous thing you do, and entitles people to look at you with barely-disguised scorn. Even smokers. You know who you are.
Or that may be just Protestant wowser guilt speaking. Buggered if I know, but that's why I didn't blog about it. It was my secret shame. I didn't want you, my five faithful readers, to think less of me.
Then I got this insane idea. It kept ticking and tickling at the back of my mind. I thought I could probably do it, even off the Summer O'Nothing, with Extra Added Lard! But I'd have to Get Serious. In my job, when people say stuff like that, I ask so what does that actually mean?
It means four or five alcohol free days each week.
Ohhhhhhkaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy........
As you know, I like to failure-proof all my Plans. But this one? I just had to suck it up, face the fact that this unhelpful, unhealthy habit had crept in and Do Something Different. But what? And how would I know when I'd Failed to Fail? When could I raise my arms in triumph and exude secret smugness? I needed a goal. I needed A Plan.
For the Very Slow runner such as myself, marathon training takes a Serious amount of effort and time. The entry fee is a Serious amount of money, and then there are shoes, gels, physio visits and excruciating sports massages ow ow ow. Choosing to do my long runs (they're getting up towards three hours now) on disturbed sleep and all dehydrated would be stupid, and Not Serious At All. How could I Prove I was Serious? By knocking off the vino, that's how! So the Plan Was This: I could only enter the GCM afterI had managed 4 (or more) consecutive AFDs for two weeks in a row. The only person I told of my plan was J.
And you know what? It wasn't very hard at all! I was gobsmacked. All this time I'd convinced myself that it would be really really difficult and I had so much else going on so now was Not The Time.... and then when it came down to it I just stopped. Overnight, I am a person who doesn't drink during the week.
That's good. I wish I could report dramatic weight loss or hugely increased wellbeing or a shinier coat *pouts*. But I can report feeling more self-disciplined and as though I've conquered something I was scared of. That's good.
74 days.....
more anon, self-doubt tramplers!