The Winter of My Dis-caffeining

Editor's note: From time-to-time, we will post updates on my attempt to live a caffeine-free lifestyle.

Day 13:

Our provisions (willpower and curiosity), once so plentiful, have begun to dwindle, having been replaced in the rucksacks of our souls by incredible craving. I can sense that the men are becoming restless, as they huddle for warmth near the fire they've built (I should probably turn up the thermostat a bit). It has been nearly a fortnight since we last ingested the life-affirming nectar.

I can see the doubt in their eyes. What is the source of this doubt? Are they questioning my leadership? Even worse, have they completely lost faith in our noble quest to scale Mt. Caffeine? Just the other day, I heard one of them ask his peers for a word that rhymes with "quixotic." (The response was "neurotic." I'd have said "exotic," but no one asked me).

Their doubt lingers like a festering sore. It must be bluntly silenced, lest they bring down the rest of the group. I pray that I will not have to do something unpleasant. In the event that I must, I pray that I be given the strength to carry out the necessary steps. Or, at the very least, that I not be eventually tried by a court of law for my egregious mixing of metaphors.

So, Doubt has appeared on the scene. He is not an unexpected visitor, although I did not anticipate seeing him so soon. No matter, he must be forcibly engaged. So lay down some odds, my bookmaking friend, Doubt and I are set to tussle. With apologies to Don King, we could refer to our confrontation as "The Caffeine Clash."

Still others are now demonstrating a heretofore undiscovered, steely resolve. This, too, I can see in their eyes. Their faces do not betray the despair which is the constant companion of the beaten man. Rather, they are determined to see this thing through. I am proud to know such men, to struggle alongside them.

I think that we're getting to the point where the quest itself is no longer relevant (was it ever?). Now, it's about survival. It's about testing ourselves via deprivation of the most extreme sort. We've gotten to this point. Dare we back down now?

Yet, even as I write these seemingly courageous words, I can feel my own resolve crumbling. Verily, my heart continues to beat, and my blood flows, but they do so lethargically, robbed of the thing which makes them race, in so exhilarating a manner.

However, the physical impact of my deprivation, while troubling, does not bring with it the horrors that the quest now seems prepared to visit upon my tortured psyche. When I lie asleep at night, I dream of the magical, banned elixir, in nearly all of its forms. The 20-ounce Diet Coke, with 75 milligrams of caffeine; the Big Gulp, with 30 ounces of Diet Coke (112.5 mg. of caffeine) and 2 ounces of regular Coke (5.8 mg. of caffeine); or, the massive, (yet still only $0.99) 44 ounce cup, available at a nearby ExxonMobil station, which can deliver 165 milligrams of the stuff. I've even seen some Diet Mountain Dew in some of my nocturnal visions, featuring 4.6 milligrams of caffeine per ounce. Temptation is everywhere.


Have I begun the slow descent into madness?


For now, there's no time to contemplate this terrible possibility. FBB just spilled some coffee onto the newspaper. Perhaps if I suck on it, I can get some caffeine into my system. And to think, I don't even like coffee.