Here, let me set this out here to start … feel free to hit play while reading …
Okay, I completely and openly acknowledge that being somewhat enamored of Coca-Cola—and the sweet, sweet caffeine therein—comes nowhere near the true addiction that cripples those enslaved to drugs, alcohol or licking cats (and that’s *not* an euphemism). I also realize that the size of my monkey is relatively modest: I would say that it’s more of a pesky, poop-flinging capuchin rather than an orangutan that when angered can literally tear my arms off and eat my face. So there’s that.
Still, I do have a problem in that over 157 years I have trained my body to rely on receiving caffeine every single day, and even though that they say the first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem, it’s not helping any.
Let me try to explain it: Something happens in my very blood every day around 2 p.m. when I decide to open that icy can of high fructose corn syrup that masquerades as a beverage—and it’s got to be a 12-once can; for some reason, the mix in bottles never seems to taste (or burn my eyes and back of my throat) the same as what comes out of the can. I only assume that it tastes better because of the tiny pieces of aluminum that I’m also ingesting, you know, which has also been thought to cause Alzheimer’s Disease, although no indisputable evidence has been produced to prove that hey did I tell you about the time I saw Sally Jessie Raphael picking her nose while sitting in her red BMW at an intersection in New Haven? Yeah, good times …
Anyway, when I hear that boisterous c-r-a-c-k as I pop that can open …. it’s a rush. I can feel my physiology changing even before the liquid touches my lips or the equivalent of 10 teaspoons of sugar reaches my heart, a psychosomatic reaction to be sure, but nonetheless real. And then as it does get into my system and that weariness washes away, I feel like I’m finally coming to life …
It’s not a habit, it’s cool, I feel alive …
I used to also drink a Coke every morning at 9 a.m. as a wake-me-up, but at a certain point I realized that I was going to be awake and stay awake no matter how tired I was, so I was able to cut that one out of my diet. But cutting down isn’t cutting out, right?
Recently, I’ve been thinking about those spoonfuls of sugar as well as all the other facts that prove it’s really, really bad to drink even one can of soda a day. (Don’t click link unless you want to crush any fantasy that you have sort of healthy lifestyle that allows even one can a day.)
Despite all the health risks, I find that I do need—and desperately want, or absolutely crave—that jolt of energy every day. I don’t drink coffee (yes, I have issues), so to get that caffeine, I have decided to try an alternative.
When we were at Pax East back in March, we got a few samples of 5-Hour Energy, and I spent the last few months trying to convince myself to try one. I mean, it promises “long lasting energy with no sugar and zero net carbs.” Sounds perfect, right? Plus it’s got like vitamins, amino acids and tiger blood or something. (I may not have read the entire label, or any of it, really.) What could possibly go wrong?
So about a week or two ago, I put one in my lunch in place of my beloved Coke, and at 2 p.m., pulled it out. I eyed the small bottle dubiously—how could a 2-ounce shot pack as much kick as a 12-ounce can? I opened the top; it was “berry” flavor, which smelled vaguely sweet and looked something like Garotade.
I shrugged and then …
I held my nose, I closed my eyes … I took a drink …
Okay, I still knew that it was day and not night, and I hardly started kissing everything in sight, but at first I didn’t notice anything really all that different. I was thrown off that it went down so quick—I usually enjoy lingering over my Coke. And at first, nothing seemed all that out-of-the-ordinary, so I went back to work.
But then I felt it slowly kicking in. As I posted on my Facebook that afternoon: “I think it’s working—my pulse is racing and I’m having an aneurysm. That’s supposed to happen, right?”
Okay, it wasn’t quite that extreme, but I was definitely feeling more … *energetic*! And by “energetic,” I do mean that my pulse was a bit elevated and my hands were shaking. A little.
Actually, I started freaking out that I maybe somehow had overdosed—and then I quickly reminded myself that there’s been no actual stories of anyone ODing on an energy drink. Well, okay they’ve been linked to heart disease, but that’s slow death, right? You know, up to the point where your heart suddenly stops altogether.
Anyway, I figured that maybe I needed to work off some of my new-found energy, so when I got home, I decided that I needed to do my usual 3.5-mile run. I chose to run at the track I normally run at, mainly because if my heart or brain did in fact explode, there’d be lots of kids playing soccer and their parents to notice, so they’d be available to get me medical attention, if necessary. That or they’d have stories to tell, so it wouldn’t all be in vain.
The good news is that neither my heart or my brain exploded, nor did any of my delicate vital organs, and truth be told, I actually sort of tore around the track at a clip that I’d have to classify as “more sprightly than usual.”
I also didn’t fall asleep until closer to midnight that night (my normal bedtime is closer to 10), but hey, at least I wasn’t dead! Well, not yet.
Anyway, since then I’ve had another 5-Hour Energy or two, and seem to be surviving, even if I do go running. But by the same token, I also haven’t been able to give up my Coke yet … . I’ve been sort going between the two because that’s how you ween yourself, right?
Or is that how you just substitute one addiction for another?
It’s not a habit, it’s cool, I feel alive
If you don’t have it you’re on the other side
I’m not an addict (maybe that’s a lie)…