A guy who knows how to be alive.

Except for this one time last week, I haven't been drinking. It seems recently that it doesn't mesh well with my life. I've heard some people say they outgrew drinking. I've heard midlife folks say they can't drink like they used to. That sounds like a blessing and a relief. One less devil always pissing in your shoes.

I started cycling every day, and then I looked up how many calories in beer. If I kept cruising along, I could easily replace all the calories from my ride with a few hours and a pint glass. That would almost be fine, except I also then have to wake up and pee nine times. Then I'm left with a case of the morning-mopes. I don't know when I started to pee so often, but it seems like a lot. And I won't be seeing a specialist for a matter which I wonder about generally. I'll phone the urologist once my penis falls off or turns orange.

Also, I was recently bedridden. You can forget about stacking booze with your viral meningitis. Even thin soup makes you think. So that was two weeks off drinking right there. Then for two more weeks, a single beer would sound the rampage-headache warning alarm, so I'd switch to a gallon of water. The illness gave me headache paranoia. I was scared to death of bringing a hint of that illness back.

Then I was all cured. I went to a party and got pretty buzzed off two slow beers. Then I washed down some fried chicken with all the rest of the alcohol at the party. The next day was a total loss. 

No drinking since then. I'm not making any declarations, and there's nothing here to read into. These are only words on a screen. 

I'm feeling good. I feel strong and alive. I'm sipping watered down lemonade and reading every book about bicycles and bicycling. I'm sleeping like a rock on my thin little tri-fold mattress. You gotta love a guy who knows how to be alive.