Monday, July 26

The Experiment

As I mentioned earlier, I thought it prudent to determine whether or not my recent illness was due to the barrage of poor food and beverage choices or simply a virus. Thus, I decided to conduct an experiment.

Because every scientific experiment begins with a hypothesis, I formulated one of my own.

My Hypothesis

After several weeks on the In8 plan, my body has become accustomed to leafy greens, fresh fruit, lean meats, whole grains and limited alcohol. The introduction of enriched white flour, sugary alcoholic beverages, and high-fat foods caused a digestive system malfunction leading to fever, cramping and general malaise.

In short, the average American diet was responsible for my illness.

Experiment Methodology

Throw as much processed food, alcohol and fat at my body as I can muster. Plus, do not exercise, as that might counteract the affects of the food and taint the results.

After following aforementioned protocol, assess physical condition and see if symptoms recur.

The Results

Last weekend was the perfect opportunity to conduct my experiment. As the final leg of Le Tour de South, we met several couples at my wine collector friend’s house on Smith Mountain Lake.

Friday evening began with mojitos and mai tais, progressed to pinot noir and Mexican cuisine, and around 1:00 AM, ended with the group singing Guns N’ Roses’ 1987 hit, Sweet Child O’ Mine and Sugarhill Gang’s most famous song, Rapper’s Delight (See I am Wonder Mike and I like to say hello/ To the black, to the white, the red and the brown/ The purple and yellow!)

Oh yeah, we sounded great. You should’ve been there.

Saturday morning came a little too quickly. After several cups of strong coffee and half a dozen cranberry scones, I joined the group in the boat for a day of tubing and swimming.

That evening, to put additional stress on my system, I feasted on multiple helpings of steak, roasted tomatoes, fruit, and Caesar salad. And of course, wine.

Our friends opened a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, and not just any bottle. They opened a jeroboam—a single bottle of wine that holds the equivalent of six bottles.  It was the mother of all wine bottles. (In the picture to the right, that's me in the background, waiting patiently for my share.)

Given its size and weight, you don’t simply lift the bottle and pour it elegantly into awaiting wine glasses. The force from that large volume of wine would knock over the glass and probably shatter it. Thus, my friends Mike and Rick devised a plan. They’d use the funnel portion of a beer bong to capture the wine and direct it into a decanter, then we’d fill our glasses from the decanter.

Why they had a beer bong in the first place was a mystery, and to be on the safe side, we washed it prior to use. None of us wanted decades old Bud Light to taint our wine experience. We’re classy folks for Pete’s sake.

Topping off the evening, I not only downed my share of wine (I had to, there were only nine of us and you can’t re-cork that thing. Plus, I was conducting an experiment.) but I also enjoyed s’mores by the fire. There are pictures floating around cyberspace now showing me with chocolate and graham crackers dripping onto my chest. Like I said, we’re classy folks.

Sunday morning, feeling confident that I had followed the experiment protocol, I assessed my physical condition. Interesting, I thought, no cramping, fever or headaches (well, at least none that couldn’t be attributed to drinking a jeroboam of wine).

Clearly, I had a virus. My hypothesis must therefore be false. My body was not rejecting poor food choices, I was just sick.

While not optimal for good health, and I’m certainly not recommending this course of action, at least we now know, we can go way off plan and be okay.

My sacrifice is your gain.

You’re welcome.

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