Training Day 1

I went down to my local park, set my watch to 1200 (it was actually mid-evening), and had my room-mate Aaron stand ready with my digital camera to record the proceedings, while I kept a small log of my progress. This I use to build the following record.

1200: I begin to drink. Ryan has explained the math he used to figure out how much to drink and when to do so last week. I will apply this math. I will be strong. I will be smart. I will be victorious.

1202: This is evoking some powerful memories in me. Memories of failure. I try not to psyche myself out.

1205: I begin to wonder about the feeling in my belly. I hadn't eaten anything more than a muffin and two slices of toast in the preceding 15 hours. Is it just my stomach reacting to suddenly being no longer empty, or is it something more sinister?

1209: I'm making pretty good progress. Perhaps 30% of the jug is empty now. But then, it always looks good around this point.

1212: Untying the jacket I have tied around my waist seems like a pretty good idea right about now.

1215: I've begun to sway back and forth invoulentarily. It reminds me of the manner that a baby who's just been fed would be rocked by it's mother. I wonder if this behaviour is instinctual or just conditioned at a very young age. Whichever, it works.

1219: I've started to sit all spread-legged style; keeping the pressure off my mid-section. The jug is maybe 50% empty.

1220: It occurrs to me that this would be easier naked; clothes exert unwanted pressure on the torso. I untie the waistband on my pants.

1221: It seems to me that women wearing a loose summer dress would have a huge advantage in this sort of endeavour.

1223: Feelin' alittle swolen here.

1224: Ryan told me that he plans to drink homo milk this year. It's almost like he doesn't want to win two years in a row. In a sense, this is ingeneous; if he wins, and so does somebody else, he can just say "Hey, I wasdrinking homo milk. My victory is more impressive than yours". If he loses, he can just say "Yeah, well I was drinking homo milk. What do you expect"? Ingenious.

1225: Gurgle, gurgle. Fart, burp.

1226: The farty-party continues.

1232: Aaron is trying to convince me that I can hold it all in for an hour and a half. I can see that he's trying to influence my thinking. Like a mild form of hypnosis. My rebellious streak and my powers of observation are not working out in my favour here. His attempt to control me in this manner - even for my own benefit - causes me to not want to aim for an hour and a half.

1234: Belches are coming rapidly now. I'm beginning to lose confidence in their being a good sign.

1236: Standing up now. Stretch that digestive tract out. Less pressure is good here.

1242: Keeping myself distracted here. Chatting about X-Men and such. Bending over to pick up or set down my jug sucks.

1245: The time:volume ratio is ceasing to favour me.

1248: Gotta go pee. More pressure release.

1253: Oh, man. I'm really not feeling good. There's only a good swig or two left, but I don't trust myself to contain it yet. Gonna put it off 'till the last minute, then chug.

1255: Aaaaaagh...!

1256: I'm feeling really not good here.

1257: Damnit! Damn, fuck, shit!

1259: Well, screw it. I'm drinking the rest of the jug anyways. There's a principle here. I'm in training.

1300: Bonus puke!

Well, I tried. I've still got nearly two weeks to train. I take comfort in the knowledge that without this training, this is how it would have gone on Milk Day, which would have been enormously frustrating. This way, I feel like I'm at least on the path to victory. I just need to stretch my stomach out a bit, I think.