“Wait, wait, wait, Botsford. You are from Wisconsin. That is basically your ambrosia. Your nectar of the gods,” you gasp, panicky, grasping for something real to hold onto--probably a rosary, the couch upon which you’re sitting, and/or a cold brew of your own.
Yes, I understand the irony. I think it is similar to when I told my folks I was a vegetarian. “But, but, Katie, what will I cook for you when you come home?” Cold fear crossed my mother’s eyes. Pretty sure my parents were more accepting when I told them I like to date the womyns than when I chose not to eat meat. Regardless, I digress.
I am choosing to do this for several reasons. I don’t really want to drink during Ultimate season. My body is my temple, blah blah blah. In addition, I cannot exercise for an extended period of time due to an injury, so I am trying to cut out alcohol and other foods that don’t really serve a purpose to keep my sweet bod in beach condition. Just kidding on that last part. But, I am trying to be healthier, and focus on paltry things like self-control.
ANYWAY, I would prefer not to publically discuss why I am no longer drinking right now, but that I am not drinking. I also wish to tell you a story about my last drink.
Once upon a time, there lived a fiery lass from a sleepy hamlet in the northern reaches of an emerald island. She thrived on adventure. Always climbing or running or moving forward towards bigger and better places. Her gallivanting nature brought her to the land of morning calm. She spent some time in the bustling metropolis then ventured south towards the ocean front. She traipsed about the beach chasing and catching flying saucers. She, however, had a secret magic. She made everyone around her a faster runner, a confident catcher. She focused her energy into changing those around her into stars.
People from near and far gathered in hopes of training with her. There was one such girl—raw and new—who was especially eager. Shy, yet anxious to please, she lurked around the lass in hopes of learning by observation. Soon, the two women became acquainted; then their acquaintance turned to friendship. The lass’s magic pulsed through their friendship making the girl into a better human. And, the girl listened, learned, and taught as well. Together, they journeyed towards better ways of living, of existing in their world.
After some time, the lass felt a tugging, a yearning to keep her feet moving. Constantly moving forward. Constantly growing in herself. She chose to leave the morning calm in search of passion and vigor. At a last, last, last going away dinner, the women shared a special soup, mandu, and mediocre beer—their favorite meal.
When the lass departed for her train, the girl didn’t cry. Not because she wasn’t sad. But, because she knew that the lass’s magic will continue to course through their friendship, and someday their adventures will again be in the same place at the same time.
So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that my last gamjatang with W seemed a fitting time to take a break from alcohol. She taught me to stop bettering myself for others, and instead try bettering myself for me. She walked with me on some pretty wobbly steps towards being a healthier human, and now it is my turn to also grow in myself under my own volition.
Thank you, dear friend. I will see you soon.