The Detox Workout
From Vogue, June 2006
In order to reconnect with my inner athlete and ramp up my yawning workouts, I recently decided to abstain from alcohol for a month. I assumed the hardest part would be to last four weeks virtuously sipping seltzer while my friends got happy drinking cocktails. The real challenge, however, was mustering the willpower to begin. There was the issue of geography -- I am spending six months in a little French coastal village called Cassis, where I can almost dive from my window into the Mediterranean and wine is offered at every meal except breakfast.
Then there was the matter of a looming book deadline. There are those who can finish a book without the incentive of champagne. I, alas, am not one of them. And so, two weeks later, I handed in the manuscript and celebrated with a bottle of Madame Clicquot's finest. The next morning, groggy and slightly hung over, I finally joined the ranks of teetotalers.
Days into my experiment, I discovered that what I'd done over the past few years was sacrifice physical performance to attend to my (very) active social life. Yes, I'd been faithful to a three-times-a-week gym routine, with a day of yoga thrown in for good measure. Having a glass or two of wine with dinner never seemed to get in the way, but perhaps I was too dazed to notice the grandmas who were hitting the treadmill harder than I was.
On my detox diet, I had more energy and more desire to work out harder and longer. I got up at 5:00 A.M. without an alarm. The gym doesn't open until 9:30 or 10:00 (this is the South of France), so I spent the wee hours of the morning writing. Whereas before I might have been content to do 30 minutes on the elliptical, now I skipped from machine to machine: elliptical to rowing machine to bike, and then on to weights. Sometimes I even managed two workouts in one day. In just a few weeks, I started to think and feel more like an athlete -- focused, motivated, and, yes, more fit. Losing five pounds was a happy bonus.
I can see why professional athletes hop on the wagon while training for big events. "During exercise, you're putting glucose into your blood, and you break down fat into free fatty acids. Alcohol makes the process less efficient," says Robert Swift, M.D., Ph.D., associate director of Brown University's Center for Alcohol and Addiction Studies. But the real benefit of going without alcohol, says Swift, is mental: "Telling yourself that you are in training and that's why you're not going to drink can lead to an increase in energy."
Apparently I'm not alone in using an alcohol-free month to revitalize time clocked at the gym. "We have two guys right now who have a $10,000 bet not to drink for 30 days," says Suzanne Meth, M.S., manager of E, the VIP studio of Equinox in New York City. "These are guys whose work requires them to go to high-end restaurants every night. It's not easy. They put off the bet six times."
For me, the benefits extended outside the gym, where I felt more alert and faster on my feet. "Moderate social drinkers who give up drinking discover that their evening cocktail creates-the word that comes to mind is dullness," says Charlie Brown, Ph.D., a sports psychologist and coauthor of You're On!, a book about peak performance. "It's almost like a subtle kind of anesthesia. You usually don't experience the clarity until you go at least ten days without drinking."
Full disclosure. I did cheat a few times. It was always at a party where I felt like everyone was commenting on the fact that I wasn't drinking. After being asked again and again, "Do you want a drink? Do you need a drink? What are you drinking?" I finally caved and said yes. After (nearly) a month of walking past the bar, I toasted my feat with a glass of champagne. It was, admittedly, nice to have a drink and not feel like I was an underage drinker covertly taking sips. But something had changed. Instead of mindlessly reaching for a second glass, I thought about my scheduled 8:00A.M.run the next morning, and while I knew I could do it on two glasses, I also knew I'd do it better on just one. It was then that I realized what my vow of abstinence was really about: resetting my internal clock. These days, I try to think -- and drink -- like an athlete. 