Photo: Flickr/ Lynne
As I knelt hunched over, semi-prostrate on the floor, head bowed, mind reeling, I wrangled with confused thoughts and emotions. Was my conscience wracked with guilt, you may ask, or was I perhaps deep in prayer as I contemplated the Mysteries of The Faith during this sacred Easter period?
Neither: I was in fact embarrassing myself on the floor of the gym as I recovered from the exertions of a bout on the running machine that far exceeded my paltry fitness level.
As I shuddered my way towards some semblance of normal breathing, I realized that here lay a lesson: humans (or at least this one) seem to have an irresistible attraction towards vice, or at least something that feels like self-destruction. It’s just a question of which demon you choose. This year, I gave up alcohol for Lent and found myself constantly drawn to whatever felt like escape or extremism in an attempt to replace the vice I was abstaining from – and yes, even exercise can become an unhealthy dependence. Moreover, I can assure you that matters are no better when the counter-point to exercise is pizza. Domino’s pizza. Frequently. You see, the urge to do something indulgent grows exponentially with the decrease in other indulgences, so you’re always at risk of ending up back where you started.
You see, the urge to do something indulgent grows exponentially with the decrease in other indulgences, so you’re always at risk of ending up back where you started.
With the pizza binges and exercise as vice comes also a reluctance to be as social as you might otherwise have been. After all, how much fun can a chap have surrounded by friends cracking lame jokes about how much you must miss a nice drink or five to accompany your meal and fuel you through the dreary small-talk of mindless cocktail parties? During these almost 40 days so far, there was more than one occasion when I was reminded of Hemingway’s old chestnut about drinking in order “to make other people more interesting.”
So how do you handle it? The process of abstention goes through clearly identifiable phases and the difficulty throughout is beating the associational habits. During the first few days you don’t want to see anything, anywhere, or anyone that reminds you of whatever you’re giving up. The next step is to deliberately seek out those things in order to face your demons and get over any cravings. In the final stage you reach a balance where discipline prevails and you take control of your emotions and reactions — usually by establishing a healthy habit to replace the foregone habit.
The surprising thing about that last stage though is that even when you get into the routine there’s a constant sense of frustration and boredom lurking in the shadows of your mind. It’s just so dull to constantly deny yourself — no wine at a fine meal, no junk food as a substitute, no excessive caffeine as a substitute, no inane yet distracting socialising . . . and so the cycle continues. But I suppose that’s sort of the point.
As the days rolled by I saw myself morphing from the sort of person who’d go to the opening of an envelope to the sort of person who looks forward to pizza and chicken wings in front of the latest installment of Game of Thrones or the new series of Mad Men. Although, on reflection, that’s not necessarily such a bad thing. Other than the central religious element of Lent and the advantages of seeing life from new perspectives, it felt right, especially in this period of austerity, to reflect on how much so many of us have to be grateful for.
In Western society many of us take for granted everyday comforts and are horrified at the prospect of the slightest inconvenience — think about the last time you lost phone service or your internet connection was slow. Giving something up for Lent is a good way of re-grounding yourself. That, and it feels good to challenge yourself – especially if you win. It’s the little victories.
On the whole, it’s been a rewarding experience that has helped remind me to not take anything for granted, even if that reminder did come from something as simple as giving up a perk like enjoying a few drinks. Then again, alternating your days between manic over-exercise and pizza dinners while watching Game of Thrones on the telly is no way to go through life either.
I suppose at the end of the proverbial day it all boils down to what those clever ancient Greeks preached: Pan Metron Ariston — all things in moderation.
