![]() ![]() Skipping a drink then and at dinner flew under the radar easily enough, but as we sat basking in the sun on the deck of a Yarra Valley winery the next day, my request for soda water had my parents and wife all spinning towards me and asking simultaneously “OK, what’s up?”. WAKE THE HELL UP COFFEE CAFFEINE CONTENT CRACKEDAs the ‘opening’ weekend rolled around and my parents cracked open the first of our customary bottles of wine with lunch, I figured I may as well take the plunge. I hadn’t quite mentioned my plans to my wife, I guess because I wasn’t 100% sure if I wanted to commit to them yet. Really it was an idea looking for an excuse anyway, so it seemed like a good-enough reason. It’s not easy for the first few days, but it’s a world away from what I imagine it would be like to break up with sugar.Īfter embalming myself through the Christmas period and January, when colleague Iain Treloar mentioned on our drive back from the Tour Down Under in Adelaide that he was going to abstain from drinking for the month of February in support of his family’s new pregnancy, I offered to join him in solidarity. Although I enjoy a beer, glass of wine, or a whisky to wind down, I never feel that stopping for a month is any more difficult than breaking the habit. I find it helps shave off a kilo or two and as a side-benefit I find it tends to promote healthier lifestyle choices during that time. How did I get here? Let’s back up a few weeks.Īround once a year I’ll stop drinking alcohol for a month in the lead-in to a big ride (like this trip to Everest, or our bikepacking trip through Kyrgyzstan). It wasn’t enough to allow sleep, but it tempered the pain to a dull roar. I considered drawing a bath, but in the end settled on a bunch of painkillers. I’d been prepared for the headaches, but thanks to the depths of my addiction, the aches were part of the withdrawals. Through bloodshot eyes I Google-doctored my symptoms. I dragged myself out of bed and grabbed a glass of water, half-stooped over the sink. ![]() It felt like the worst DOMS I’d ever experienced, but not just in my muscles – it felt like it was in every cell of my body. ![]() There was not a single position I could hold that didn’t feel like I was in the rigours of cramping. Aside from feeling like I’d been run over by a bus, everything from my torso down was on fire. I woke at 3am, sweating profusely and wracked with pain. ![]()
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