The year without coke

In 2004 or 2005, I helped lead worship at a youth camp playing drums. The camp was five days long, Monday through Friday, and in the middle of it, I decided to stop drinking coke.

[Note: This is what I mean when I say "coke" (lowercase).]

Instead, I drank tea, sweet tea when they had it or even that not-always-too-great raspberry tea. My cut off was carbonation. If it had carbonation, I’d get something else.

And I did that for a year.

It was difficult. Restaurants weren’t too bad – I could always order water with a lime, saving some money while I was at it. It was harder when someone wanted to offer me something at their house or like, “Hey, let’s stop into Thornton’s [gas station] and get some cokes.”

The longer I kept at it, though, the more determined I was to do it for a year. That snowball effect makes a big difference. No one wants to break a streak.

Until the end. Back at that camp again, I drank a coke, the first in a year.

After passing them up for so long, I figured for the most part I wouldn’t drink many more cokes. But that’s not how it turned out. As it turned out, I ended up drinking them about as often as I had before the fast.

I don’t regret it. And I don’t feel bad that I drink them now. It’s not like I quit for a year for health reasons or anything. I finished what I wanted to finish, the year without coke.

Maybe I should add that to my Done list.

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