the mock-up.

Ah, the Lenten season. A time of sacrifice, and fasting, and insatiable cravings for whatever you decide to give up for 40 days. A time to recommit yourself to that New Year's resolution that didn't quite take and deny yourself something that's so bad for you -- yet loves you so, so good.

People give up smoking. They give up chocolate. Someone might do well to give up listening to podcasts by Ricky Gervais, which is as addictive a substance as any other out there. One year I swore off meat, which I quickly downgraded to "red meat," which evolved into "red meat other than the amazing pepper-encrusted sopresata that called to me at the cheese shop." I am a bad, bad Catholic.

This year, what with the 26.2 looming, I'd like to give up one of my more harmful indulgences. I don't have too many. I try to stay healthy, figuring that if I somehow survive my multiple head injuries, my love of descending at high speeds from great heights, and my tendency to drive NASCAR-style on Storrow, it'd be terrible to be done in by high cholesterol. So we've narrowed it down to two potential Lenten sacrifices: caffeine and alcohol.

The balance sheet for giving up caffeine reads thusly:

• pros: Potential to irritate the rest of the office by filling the communal caraf with decaf coffee; slower resting heart rate; witdrawal headaches will help me focus on tasks at hand.
• cons: Will make me utterly subhuman between the hours of 7am and 11am.

And for giving up alcohol:

• pros: More productivity in the evenings; fewer needlessly deadened brain and liver cells; less time spent making ice and/or searching for corkscrew.
• cons: Less time logged at Toad.