IT'S A VIVARIN THING

By: B -- 2/7/06

All my life, waking up in the morning has been difficult.

Actually, “difficult” is a colossal understatement. Waking up has truthfully been the worst part of my life -- the biggest challenge -- for as long as I can remember. Every single morning I have been groggy, irritable and all around unapproachable for the first few hours of my day.

Ask my co-workers, who quickly learned not to speak to me until at least 10 a.m. Ask any morningtime driver on hwy 100 who’s been given the finger for seemingly no reason. Ask anyone who’s ever had the misfortune of trying to wake me up, including my mom, sister, ex-girlfriend and various roommates. “Hey Brandon,” they’d purr. “It’s time to wake up, li’l buddy.” My response would typically be a mumbled “shut the hell up and leave me alone.” Or worse.

I wasn’t kidding then and I’m not exaggerating now. And even though I’d apologize once I’d gotten my bearings, the damage was done. You can stitch a gash, but the scar remains.

I take “not a morning person” to a new level of pathetic. To actually wake up I require two cell phone alarms and one clock radio located across my room. I’ve cancelled early morning tee times from my bed. In college, I occasionally slept through 1 pm classes. When I caddied in the summers I used to wear my next-day work clothes to bed. In the past year (I’m 25 years old) I’ve slept until 4 pm at least a dozen times. I have made a habit out of waking up, resetting my alarm (the one across the room) for three minutes later – three whole minutes – then heading back to bed for a few extra moments of shut-eye. Honest to God.

I could list more examples, but I’ll stop there. Admitting things like that is an exercise in embarrassment. The point is, I have a problem. And most importantly, a problem I have absolutely no control over. Sad but true. I try and I try, but I just cannot change my behavior. And until recently, I’ve been able to think of no solutions (besides my proposed invention of time-release energy pills, but I don’t expect it to be realized anytime soon).

A short time ago, in the final days of 2005, I decided to write down the most outrageous, unlikely New Year’s resolution I could imagine. I usually ignore the concept of resolutions, but I was in a dejected mood at the time – worse off than I’d been in years – and I needed a spark. Something big. So I opened my notebook and wrote down, “exercise before work.” I set down my pen, leaned back on my couch and laughed the laugh only the delusional will recognize. Exercise barely found its way onto my radar even after work, even with nothing else going on; what kind of loon with problems such as my own would consider such an asinine possibility? It was like Courtney Love resolving to stay clean.

Ridiculous or not, the idea had upside. One, I’d finally be able to lose the 10 or so pounds I’d accrued while engaging in my beloved pastime of late-night drunk-eating. (I was tragically close to being on a first-name basis with the graveyard staff at my neighborhood BK. Not cool.) Two, I’d be more alert and efficient during the workday. Three, the time spent on my exercise bike (my cardio workout of choice) could be spent reading, watching the morning news or listening to music. Four, by working out in the morning I’d have my nights free to attend to more pressing matters, such as writing, reading, and most importantly (because it’s my ultimate goal in life), re-watching The O.C. DVDs and brainstorming how I can meet and eventually marry the real-life Summer Roberts.

The thought quickly burrowed its way into my psyche. Exercise before work. This is the kickstart I need. A project like this seemed not only uplifting, but necessary for my sanity.

With my resolution set in stone (well, notebook paper), I had to devise a tactical plan. And, well…that was the challenge. Of course I wanted to exercise in the mornings – everyone does. Desire is a given. Problem was, I could think of no conventional method to actually achieve this goal. The how part of the equation remained unanswered.

My only idea was to reconsider a radical technique recommended to me long ago by a reader: waking up in the middle of the night to pop a caffeine pill. Seriously. The person who’d offered the suggestion, a professor at MIT I’d never met, claimed that he’d been pill-popping for years to treat his sleep apnea. I never took his suggestion seriously because (a.) I don’t have sleep apnea (at least I don’t think so), and (b). when I wrote back to ask a few clarifying questions he never responded. It slipped my mind until I set forth my recent mission of pre-work exercising.

With this unproven strategy in mind (my only hope), I commenced phase one: research.

First, I had to find out if a suitable pill even existed. I needed something safe, dependable and powerful. It didn’t take long to learn that Vivarin is the reigning authority in the category. I ventured to my local drugstore and bought two packages of the bright yellow tablets.

Step two in my research was to learn an appropriate dosage. Each Vive packs a caffeine punch of 200 mg. How does that compare to other caffeine-loaded products? An internet search yielded these results:

Soda: 30-45 mg.
Small cup of coffee: 80 mg.
Red Bull: 80 mg.*
Vivarin: 200 mg.

(* This proves that Red Bull does not contain a hazardous amount of caffeine, contrary to moronic public opinion. I’ve drunk a sugar-free Red Bull every single day at work for two straight years, and when it came up in conversation people reacted as if I'd told them I was mainlining heroin. “You drink Red Bull?” they’d gasp in an incredulous whisper. “Keep that crazy stuff away from me!” Just absurd.)

According to my information, popping a Vivarin provides the same effect as roughly two large cups of coffee. Sounds intense but harmless, but I still needed a definitive answer to my final question: is it safe? Would a 200 mg. caffeine shock to my mid-slumber body harm me in any way? And not only that, but would I develop an addiction to the pills? I didn’t want to go all Jessie Spano on anyone.

I wrote my query to a few online doctor forums and received a blanket response: no, 200 mg. of caffeine is not harmful. Not in the least. There are a number of people who ingest more than that on a daily basis. You’ll be fine. There I had it: safety confirmed.

My research finished, I moved on to phase 2: execution. The plan was simple:

1.) Place one pill on my nightstand so it’s easy to find during my early-morning grogginess.

2.) Set my earliest alarm to 6:15, one hour earlier than usual.

3.) At 6:15, pop the pill and head back to sleep until my next alarm goes off at the standard time.

4.) Wake up at 7:15 and commence workout.

My intentions were earnest, but it didn’t mean the plan would actually work. This certainly wasn’t the first time I’d hoped to implement a first-of-the-new-year workout regimen. It hadn’t ever stuck for more than a week, and though the added idea of drugs was promising, I had my reservations.

Still, I was going to give it a shot. I set my alarm, positioned my pill and prayed the drugs would kill my early-morning Mr. Hyde.

***

One month later, the experiment has been a phenomenal success. I’ve been waking up with ease, exercising with regularity and generally behaving like less of an asshole in the morning.

The first few days I flew out of bed like a man possessed, as if I’d awoken to discover a ferret in my bed. The 200 em-gee’s were an intense jolt to my system; I believe at one point I went six hours without blinking. I could feel myself venturing dangerously close to an “I’m so excited, I’m so…scared” moment, so in preparation for week two I decided to cut my Vivarin pills in half using my mostly-unused gourmet kitchen knives (those of us who consistently dine on microwave popcorn and turkey burgers find little use for 10-inch Gingu blades). Even though I knew the 200 milligrams wasn’t a dangerous amount, I figured that half the dosage might suffice. It did, so I halved the rest of my stash.

My routine has remained the same throughout. Wake at 6:15, pop the half-pill, swig my lukewarm bottled water, fall back asleep within seconds, hop up when my alarm goes off, ride the bike, shower and leave for work. I’m alert in the morning, but not to an excessive degree. 100 mg. of caffeine isn’t exactly going to make one act like a coke fiend.

The Vive isn’t a miracle drug – I still feel slight effects when I’m under-rested or hungover – but it’s been the perfect kick in the ass I’ve been hoping nature would provide all these years. (I’ve been told a million times by a million people, “I used to have trouble waking up too, but as you get older it gets much easier.” Never happened for me, and I don’t think it ever will. So you know what? Screw nature. I need help, and I don’t consider a reliance on risk-free drugs as a weakness.)

The benefits of my new routine have been monumental, even after just one month. I’ve already shed the 10 extra pounds I was carrying, with plans to look like Iggy Pop by spring.

As an added benefit, I’ve already saved myself $40. My daily Red Bull addiction was running at $2 per can, but the Bull has been laid to rest with the Vive pumping through my blood. These days I dine on Glenwood- Inglewood.

In addition to my thinning frame and thickening wallet, I’m generally just a happier person. Whereas I used to be an irate driver on my way to work, I’m now cordial (as cordial as possible considering I have to deal with Minnesota drivers). Whereas I used to intentionally ignore people in the mornings, I now actually acknowledge those around me. And whereas I used to lie awake at 1:30 a.m., trying to will myself to sleep, my early-morning alertness has sparked fatigue much earlier at night.

The Vivarin Experiment has been a watershed phase of my life, and I plan to continue this path into the unforeseen future. I love not being an asshole.

TAKE ME TO THE TOP