Of
all my failures, I excel at this one: I’ve been a lousy water drinker all my
life. My argument was, if I truly needed all the water experts say I do,
wouldn’t I feel thirsty? Besides, I never enjoyed drinking water. Tasteless at
best, it hurt my teeth if too cold. Where’s the appeal?
Then
I planned a conference trip to Denver. The organizers warned us to drink lots
of water leading up to the event to avoid altitude sickness in “Mile High
City.” I tried. I worked myself up to three or four glasses a day. Once there,
it was easier because water stations appeared every few feet and the dry air
actually made me thirsty.
But
it was too late. I spent my first night in a flu-like stupor I hope to never
repeat.
When
I returned for the same conference a year later, I weathered the weekend
without a smidgeon of altitude sickness. I know you’re dying to know how.
As
little as I love water, I have a love affair with charts. Just ask my children
(also known as “Adult Children of Obsessive Chart Keepers”), who survived years
of job charts posted on the fridge, each carefully crafted to include daily
age-appropriate tasks for each child — including checking off their chart. (I admit
that last one may cross the line into the compulsive category).
Why
not apply my chart-checking strength to my water-drinking weakness? Highly
motivated the second time around, I developed what I proudly call “The System.”
Creating a chart starting a month prior to my departure for Denver, I
determined that each time I managed to get myself on the outside of a glass of
water, I would check off a box on my chart. (Hey, an accomplishment is an
accomplishment.)
Week
One’s chart featured the days of the week down the side and the numbers one
through five across the top. Five glasses a day wasn’t too difficult. Week
Two’s Chart displayed six numbers across the top, and so on, until the week
before the conference when I pushed it up to eight.
I
quickly discovered three things. First, I can swallow a lot more room
temperature water than water straight out of the fridge. Second, I couldn’t
think about it too hard. Staring down a dauntingly full glass only intimidated
me. “Just pick ‘er up, and down the hatch she goes” became my new mantra.
Third, unless I wanted to be downing a liter of water right before bed, I
needed to start early. New rule: must force down a glass first thing in the
morning before allowing myself a cup of coffee.
By
my final week, I was consuming an additional 500 mL bottle (which I counted for
two checkmarks) by mid-morning and another by lunch. All I had to do then was
drink one with lunch, one with supper, and one in the evening. My reward was
threefold: a neatly checked off chart, no altitude sickness, and the pride of
accomplishment. The more frequent trips to the little girls’ room seemed a
small price to pay.
If
you’re a lover of charts like I am, “The System” is sure to work for you, too.
Just keep your chart out of sight of your adult kids. I take no responsibility
for flashback trauma.
