I Haven't Had a Drink in 500 Days

Hey {{first_name|Reader}}. Did you know that I Haven't Had a Drink in 500 Days?

My last drink was July 31, 2024, at the Ted Stevens (Anchorage) International Airport. I was about to board a flight for a work trip that would keep me away from home for three and a half months. I was having a few beers before boarding, approaching the point where I'd had too many, and a thought hit me that I couldn't ignore: Why the fuck am I doing this?

So that was it.  I stopped. Just like that. No grand announcement. No 30-day trial. No social media validation needed. I was done.

It's been over 500 days now. I don't miss it. I don't plan to drink again. And the decision has changed more than I expected.

“Want a drink?”

“No thanks, I don’t drink.”

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Like many college students, I drank a lot in my early twenties. Thursday through Saturday nights, sometimes Wednesdays. Beer, liquor, whatever was around. Except Jägermeister. It tastes like shit. Drinking led to poor decisions and weight gain. I thought I was having fun but ;looking back, I was mostly just trying to fit in.

My family are heavy drinkers. Always have been, for as long as I can remember. Growing up around that, drinking felt normal. Expected, even.

After college, I drank less often. Weekends, social events, family gatherings. But here's the thing: whenever I did drink, I tended to overdo it. Since I wasn't drinking regularly, I'd think what the hell, why not? and drink more than I should. I was a mature adult with a wife and kids, but my behavior with alcohol hadn't matured at all.

The only times I found myself drinking consistently were at work functions. Hmmm…. (the ultimate self-defeating prophecy)

At the airport that day, I was on my third or fourth beer. I could feel myself getting to that familiar point. I'd be on a plane for hours, probably regretting this decision before we even landed.

And I just thought: Why am I doing this?

Not in a dramatic, life-changing-revelation way. Just a simple, honest question. What was I getting out of this? What purpose was it serving?

I couldn't come up with a good answer. So I stopped.

I told my wife first. She was supportive. Around the same time, a peer of mine had started bodybuilding and quit drinking as part of his training. I asked him why he stopped, and he said it wasn't aligned with his goals. That stuck with me. Alcohol wasn't aligned with my goals either. Different goals than his, but the same principle.

Knowing someone else at a similar age and at a similar point in life had made the same choice made it feel less weird. It gave me permission to believe it was okay to stop.

(So you decided to stop drinking?)

The hardest part wasn't cravings. It was social pressure.

Alcohol is so normalized in our culture that not drinking makes people uncomfortable. You may not know what to expect. You're the anomaly. You're often the one who has to explain yourself. And people ask questions—not because they're genuinely curious, but because your choice makes them think about their own. At least that’s my opinion.

I started noticing something: a lot of millennials and younger people are coming to the same conclusion I did. Alcohol doesn't serve them anymore, so they're cutting it out. The stigma is shifting. It's becoming more acceptable to say no without having to justify it.

But in those first few weeks, I still got the questions. "Are you sure?" "Not even one?" "Is everything okay?" I kept my answers simple: "No thank you, I don't drink." If pressed, I'd add, "It's just a personal choice I made." That usually ended it.

What surprised me most was how fast I adjusted. I thought I'd miss it more. I didn't.

I was using a Whoop band to track my health at the time, and every time I'd had a few drinks, it would tell me I slept terribly. My recovery score would tank. My HRV would drop. And when I woke up, I'd feel exactly like the data said I should: tired, sluggish, and off.

Seeing that validation in real numbers made it easier to stay committed. My body was telling me the same thing the data was: alcohol makes everything worse.

Within a few weeks, I noticed my sleep quality improving. My energy during the day was better. My focus was sharper. I felt more present with my wife and kids. The brain fog I didn't realize I had started to lift.

By the time I hit 30 days, it already felt normal.

While the holiday season is often when most people overdue it with drinking, the first Thanksgiving and Christmas without alcohol were easier than I expected. We don't keep alcohol in the house anymore, which removes the temptation entirely. When we're at family gatherings or out to eat, I order club soda or diet soda. It looks like I'm drinking something, so people usually leave me alone.

My parents still don't fully understand. They're good hosts, so they still offer me a drink when we visit. I say no. They drop it. A few family members have asked why I stopped, but they have no interest in following my lead. That's fine. This isn't about converting anyone.

The most annoying response I've gotten is the repeated "Are you sure?" as if I might change my mind mid-conversation. I'd love for someone to tell me I'm not fun anymore. That would be hilarious.

Here's the truth: I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. If someone doesn't want to include me in something because I don't drink, that's not the kind of person I want to be around anyway. I am fine with losing connections over this.

When I go out to socialize, which is not often, I drink club soda or diet soda. Non-alcoholic beer tastes terrible to me, and I don't want the empty calories. The other options let me feel like I'm participating without the guilt or the consequences.

I still get weird looks sometimes, especially from coworkers and extended family. I don't care. Alcohol is legitimately bad for you. I read an article a year or two ago that laid it out plainly: alcohol does nothing good for your body. It's poison. Your liver processes it as poison because that's what it is.

Once I accepted that, the decision became easier to defend.

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Before I quit, I wasn't buying alcohol for at home. As an adult, I only drank at bars, restaurants, and social events. But even that added up.

A single beer in Alaska costs around $7. A cocktail is $12-15. If I went out for dinner with my wife and we each had two drinks, that's an extra $30-40 on the bill before food. Do that twice a month, and that's $60-80. Over a year, that's $720-960.

At my worst, I was probably spending $50 a month on alcohol. Over 16 months, that's $800. Not a life-changing amount, but not nothing either.

According to a 2023 study, the average American spends about $579 per year on alcohol. That's $48 per month. For regular drinkers, that number climbs to over $1,000 per year.

I didn't quit to save money. But the money I'm not spending on alcohol is money that stays in my account. It's money that can go toward this newsletter, toward investments, toward my family. Whatever I want. The real savings is my health.

Physically, everything improved. I sleep better. I have more energy. My weight is dialed in. My performance in the gym is better. My blood pressure is lower. My resting heart rate dropped. Every measurable health metric got better.

Mentally, the change was even bigger. My mood is more stable. I can focus longer. I make clearer, faster decisions. The fog I didn't realize was there is gone.

I'm more present with my wife and kids. I don't have hangovers on Saturday mornings. I'm not recovering from a night out when I should be spending time with them. Since being married, I never drank to the point where it was a serious problem in my relationship. But not drinking has made me a better husband and father anyway.

The biggest benefit I didn't expect? The distraction is gone. Alcohol was taking up mental space I didn't realize it was occupying. It was a default option for social events, a habit I didn't question, a thing I did because everyone else did.

Removing it cleared space for other things. I started focusing more on myself. I started being more intentional about who I spend time with. I stopped being around people I didn't actually want to be around.

When I was younger, alcohol covered up my need to fit in. My craving for validation and attention from people I thought were my friends. I believed I was funnier and more likable when I drank. That was a lie I told myself.

The truth is, I was using alcohol to avoid dealing with the fact that I didn't like who I was around or how I was living. It was a distraction. A way to numb the discomfort of not addressing what actually needed to change.

I don't think I ever had a drinking problem in the clinical sense. I was never dependent. I could go weeks or months without drinking and not think about it. But it just wasn't worth it anymore. It was doing nothing positive for my life. So why keep doing it?

As a man in my thirties, I've had several moments where I decided I wanted to make life-altering decisions. Quitting alcohol was one of them. It wasn't the hardest change I've made, but it's had some of the biggest impacts.

I think two things stop people from quitting even when they know they should: social pressure and fear of judgment.

People don't want to be the weird one at the party. They don't want to explain themselves. They don't want to make others uncomfortable by highlighting a habit that maybe those people should reconsider too.

And there's this idea that if you quit drinking, people will assume you had a problem. So they keep drinking to avoid that assumption, even if the drinking itself is becoming a problem.

If someone reading this thinks, Yeah, but I only have a beer or two on weekends, I'm fine—maybe you are. Maybe you're not. I'm not here to tell you what to do. But I'd ask you to really think about it. Are you actually fine? Or are you just telling yourself that because it's easier than questioning it?

Not drinking connects to my goal of being work-optional by my forties. I'm saving money. I'm more mentally clear and focused, so I can optimize my time and energy. Alcohol is a distraction that would slow me down.

It connects to this newsletter. I would not be waking up at 4:09 AM every day to work on this if I was drinking every night. So many people casually drink after work, or joke about needing a drink after the day they just had. That mindset is toxic. If you genuinely need alcohol to cope with your life, that's a problem. It's okay to get help.

It connects to being a better father. I have 18 years with my kids under my roof. You cannot be fully present with your family when you're under the influence or recovering from being drunk. Time is the only resource you can't get back. I'm not wasting it on hangovers.

And it connects to watches and intentional spending. Sobriety is another form of I like nice things, I just refuse to be owned by them. You may have dreams like I do. We only have so long to achieve them. Time is limited. We're all going to die one day. Alcohol is a governor on a go-kart. It slows you down. It limits how far and how fast you can go.

I removed the governor.

Do I plan to drink again? No.

Is there a scenario where I'd say yes? No.

I'm not on some moral crusade. I'm not judging anyone who drinks. If you want to drink, do whatever you want. But really think about it. Be honest with yourself about what it's doing for you and what it's costing you.

For me, the cost was too high and the benefit was zero. So I stopped.

It's been over 500 days. I sleep better. I'm healthier. I'm more focused. I'm more present with my family. I have more time, more energy, and more clarity.

I don't miss it.

If you're thinking about quitting, just do it. Try 30 days. Track how you feel. Look at your health data. Be honest about what changes. You might be surprised.

Or don't. That's fine too. But at least think about it.

Watches mark time. The choices behind them mark intentions.

—Ian