Today is the 11th day without coffee.
I am, strangely enough, conscious and relatively alert.
I didn’t set out to quit coffee. I got really, really sick last week; I had a blinding/numbing/vomit inducing migraine for a solid 36 hours. Before that, I thought I was catching the flu or possibly on my way toward Zombie-Dom. About 24 hours into my headache/soul-crushing suck-fest, I got an eMail from the Husband. It said, roughly, “since you’re already miserable, quit coffee while you’re at it. Face it: you’re an addict.”
I had a lot of time to think about that as I lay in the fetal position on my bathroom floor wishing for decapitation.
When my headache subsided to a dull roar, I drank a cup of tea and ate half a banana. Then water, then more water… And it occurred to me that I was grossly dehydrated. I hadn’t peed for almost two days. That counts as renal failure in certain circles.
I don’t blame coffee, I blame my addiction to it as well as to the foof I put in it. Drinking coffee got in the way of drinking water. Not drinking water is not conducive to running a marathon, finishing a Zumba class, or even keeping one’s eyeballs inflated.
And the foof?! Oh, my, the unnatural crap I was ingesting in the name of My Morning Cup of Coffee! No more high-fructose corn syrup! No more supporting Nestle and that company’s pro-abortion politics! The fact that I am now completely carrageenan-free is enough excuse to throw a party!
And then I remembered- I haven’t had fun in Zumba for a good long while because i get so tired half-way through. I’ve wanted to puke after my training runs. I haven’t been sleeping properly and the fibroid tumors in my breasts have been causing excruciating pain, so much so that I had been tearing up just putting on a bra. (it is well documented that caffeine increases the discomfort associated with these tumors)
Also of note: when I go for a run greater than, say, eight miles, I experience
what it’s like to search frantically for a portajon significant intestinal discomfort. I’ve heard that caffeine can exacerbate that problem, but had been choosing to ignore it. That’s a bad idea because I can’t exactly stop for a latte and potty break in the middle of a marathon.
And all this is really extra stupid because part of Weight Watchers is ensuring proper water intake. But here’s the second part to this: I haven’t been tracking properly, either. I’ve been the same weight, give or take three pounds, since Christmas. I’m still shrinking out of my clothes, but I really haven’t noticed significant muscle gains.
So, yeah, I’ve not had coffee for a while. I don’t think I’ve quit it, though, just postponing drinking it until I can reasonably ensure I won’t go apey over it again. And I will never go back to putting crap in my coffee; when I go back to it, I will drink my Mystic Monk coffee without carrageenan and guilt.
Anyway, I still take in caffeine, just in milder forms and not nearly as much as I once did. I have a cup of black tea in the morning (about half the caffeine of coffee), then at lunch I have a green tea, then in the afternoon I have a white tea. I actually look forward to bed time, now, and wake up feeling fairly…normal. 🙂 It’s nice to know that I really am an energetic person without espresso eeping through my veins.
I’ve gone on some significant training runs this past week and tomorrow will be one of the last before Bataan: three hours on my feet, for however long I can go, at whatever pace I can maintain steadily. Instead of powergel with x2 caffeine, i’m taking along water and coconut water with chia seeds. 🙂 I never thought I could get out of bed without the promise of java waiting for me downstairs, let alone attempt a marathon without it.
…I still love that intoxicating smell of espresso and paper when I walk into Barnes & Noble, though…