Saturday, 3 December 2011

An open letter to Beer

Hi Beer.

You might be wondering why I'm writing to you instead of calling, or even drinking you. This seemed the nicest way to do this, I suppose.

There's no easy way to say this… I know I've been distant lately, and we've only seen each other once a week for the last month. It's not been easy for me either, but I needed some space to think about things. Basically, I don't think we should see each other any more.

I thought about trying an open relationship, where I get to see other drinks, but my birthday - where I tried a threesome with you and tequila - left me feeling empty. And gave me the farts really bad. I don't think that kind of relationship would work for either of us, because when I try and replace you with other alcoholic liquids, I end up drinking them in huge quantities too.

The thing is, Beer, I'm really good at exercising. And I'm really good at drinking. But I don't think I can do both any more. I could have been slimmer at any time in my life; I mean, do you remember when I was cycling just shy of 10 very, very hilly miles to work every day? Then the same 10 back, for just under 100 miles a week? Did I lose any weight? Did I fuck. I drank three bottles of wine a night instead.

Remember when I tried working just a couple of hours a day? Work quality improved immensely, but so did my alcohol consumption. I would wake up early, go for a run (or a long walk, but usually a run), have breakfast, cycle up to the gym, do a yoga class for 90 minutes, have lunch, work, then back to the gym for an early evening workout. Then home for dinner - usually fish, leaves and rice - then off out to the pub. Where I would drink up to 10 pints most nights - and yet I didn't put on a single pound. But I didn't lose any weight, either.

It's all so counter-productive. I'm not giving you my best, and I'm not giving me my best either. Sometimes, Beer, love just isn't enough. And when you realise that, you have to do what is best for you, the individual. If I don't do this, I'll drag us both down and for what?

Look at last night. We had a great, great time. Dinner with friends, celebrating our wedding anniversary, we had a superb curry and lots of you, too. But look at the calories - 200 calories a pint in you, plus anything around 1,000 for the curry… That's a week's running right there. So all the 5am wake-ups this past week were to justify drinking like a fucking loon last night, it seems. And writing off today, when I feel like dog shit that's been eaten by a zombie and come back as zombie dog shit.

I'm sorry, Beer. It's over. I choose 5am wake-ups, early morning winter runs, great sleep, early nights. I choose doing a course to become an endurance running coach, I choose helping people to change their lives if I can. I choose putting on a kick-arse event next year with a race at its heart, starting something really special in my home town.

Like I said, sometimes love just isn't enough. Goodbye, Beer. It's been a fucking blast, but it's over.


1 comment: