Sleeping Is Giving In by mr_last

This shall be remembered as my Gatorade Summer.

I drink too much of it, if that's possible. I drink too much Gatorade, because I will not drink carbonated, sugar-poisoned soda anymore. That would put acid in my muscle tissues and deposit layers of fat in my gut. I am 37. I don't need the paunchy midsection, and at my age, I have to do more to keep it off.

That's right. Brian's on a health kick this year. I'm sure my mid-life crisis has something to do with it, but I'm trying to tell myself it's a good idea.

Every night after work, I go to an all-night gym and torture myself. I lift weights until my arms, chest, shoulders and back tremble from the exertion. It doesn't take long. Then I get on a treadmill and jog until my face is slick with sweat, until my lungs and guts are burning. I don't cheat, either. I have a personal trainer who meets me every night. I've already paid him to make sure I'm miserable for my own good.

That's not the worst part. When I get home, exhausted and quite thirsty, I must consume a homemade drink of water + vanilla-flavored whey/protein powder. It sickens me, because it has the consistency and color of milk, and I hate milk. I drink it down as fast as I can. It takes 14 large gulps for my mouth to take it all. I nearly gag on it. But I must take all 14 gulps at once. If I stopped, I wouldn't be able to take another sip.

I need the protein and amino acids, and I need them right after my workout. If I didn't take that awful shake, I'd waste all the pain I put myself through.

All the rest of the time, it's gatorade, gatorade, gatorade. Or water. Soda has acid in it, and that acid would make my muscles quite sore after my workouts, which I already learned the hard way. I've been doing this for two months now. I don't get sore anymore. I get tired.

Why do I do it?

Because I've never seen myself at my best, physically. I was never athletic, except during high school, when I took karate lessons and joined the school wrestling team. But I was so skinny then, that even in my best shape I looked gaunt. Frankly, the acne didn't help either. Like I said, I have never presented myself, physically, at my full potential. For at least a few years, I want to find out what it's like.

There's more: I am writing a novel, and have been for some months now. I've kept it to myself, and it has kept me from blogging. All my life, people told me I should write a book and try to get it published. The writing's always been the easy part. The HARD part, for me, is staying on a long project (like a novel) until I have completed it. I want to do it at least once, and see if I can publish it.

For those of you who are regulars at my blog, worry not: the novel WILL BE depressing enough to be worthy of my name. Of course, it'll be more than that too, just as my blog is.

Beyond all this, I'm happy. My daughter is entering high school this fall. She's as beautiful as ever and getting great marks in her classes. I have great friends, and not-so-great friends who get my unyielding support anyway. My love life is in a nice place, safe even from me, so far.

Unspoken obsessions still grip me, as they always will. They power my engines of melancholy, so that I can keep passing it on to you. Don't worry that I'm falling apart. I won't. Don't think of me as a hermit, bitter and lonesome and lost, because I'm not. I am vibrant, strong and often happy.

Unfortunately, now it's 10 p.m., and I have to go to the gym and torture myself again.

~ Brian

Me with Kira, May 21, 2007 -- just before she left to spend the summer in Japan.