Dry January: A Commitment I’m Going To Try Really, Really Hard To Keep

I can do this. I think.

By kncitom on January 2, 2020
The fear in my eyes is real: Dry January is like nothing I’ve ever attempted

Hey it’s Tom and I like to drink.

Anyone who knows me or listens to the show regularly is probably aware of that. Craft beer especially-and we live in one of the best craft beer regions in America! I’m a wine fan too and again, no shortage of that around here. I am a believer in Benjamin Franklin’s famous quote about beer (which, fun fact, was actually about wine): that it is “constant proof God loves us and loves to see us happy“.

And here’s the truth: I rarely drink to excess but it’s rare that I don’t drink: by my best guess, I would bet I’ve had at least a couple beers or wine literally every weekend since college, unless I was sick. That’s not an exaggeration. But because I rarely drink during the week or to the point of a hangover, and because I don’t drive buzzed or drunk (that task usually falls to my wife or, if we’re both partaking, Lyft or a DD friend), I’ve always told myself I handle it well, that I’m in control and it’s not the other way around. And I still believe that. 

Or at least, that’s what I tell myself, so I believe it. 

Writing this is harder than I thought it would be, because it appears more serious than I thought it would. And maybe it is. 

It probably is.

This idea to attempt a Dry January didn’t come from me. Cody was talking about doing it. She’s young and fun and likes to try new things like goat yoga and Jump bikes and so for her, giving Dry January a try is just something else different to do. And I’m sure she’ll do it and adjust fantastically. For me though, it’s a little more than that. I drink just enough that when I got the results of my last physical…? The first thing I checked was how my liver was doing. I’m not lying. It’s doing fine, by the way and you better believe I drank to that. I drink when I’ve had a long week. I drink when it’s been a short week. I drink to enhance a night out with friends, or to enjoy a warm Saturday evening in the backyard. I love the taste of a good IPA (Knee Deep Citra will always be my weakness) and that first sip in a Placer Wine Trail tasting room with friends is about as close to perfection as my heart can conceive. I am a social butterfly, and a few drinks..? The wind beneath my wings. 

But, it adds up. Or at least, they say it can, especially when your age finally exceeds the posted freeway speed limit for trucks and vehicles pulling trailers. So I guess I’m doing this because I want to see how hard it would be to ramp it down, while I still don’t have to. I don’t really want to wait until my liver comes back with a bad report card because by then, it’s getting to be too late, isn’t it? 

To be clear: I’m not swearing off Citras or trips to Lone Buffalo forever. I’ll still be dropping by Moksa or Boxing Donkey or my neighbor’s garage to catch a buzzy glow on a future Friday night. And I’m not going to lie and say I’m sure I can do this. I’m not sure. Not at all. I was more comfortable committing to my first marathon than I am to this.

Which is why I must. 

I need to find out now–to prove to myself that I am the one in control, and that it’s not the other way around. 

So raise one up for me if you’re so inclined, and wish me luck. I think I might need it.




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