Richard Jernigan -> RE: About to quit the smoke (May 25 2013 18:06:18)
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I'm a very lucky person. It was easy for me to quit cigarettes nearly fifty years ago, so you should take this with a grain of salt. I have a policy of befriending my vices. Once or twice a month I put a small steak on the charcoal grill. When it is done just so, I eat it with a nice salad, maybe half a baked potato and one glass of red wine. The rest of the time it's vegetarian breakfast and lunch, maybe a small piece of chicken or fish with supper. For a few years when I lived in the tropics I would start each weekend by sitting at a beach shack after supper on Friday, watching the sun set over the glorious blue Pacific, puffing on a good cigar and sipping a glass of cognac. Maybe once a month friends from the more populous island at the south end of the atoll would fly up and join me. After one cigar and 125 milliliters of cognac, I didn't want any more of either one. Six days a week I would swim at least a kilometer, and on essentially every weekend my buddies and I would go scuba diving. There were no private cars on the island. I rode my bicycle back and forth to work, and back and forth to lunch, a couple of miles each way. Ten and a half months of the year, at least a mile would be into the teeth of a 12 to 18 knot trade wind. You would breathe hard and sweat, no matter how fit you were. We were given an annual physical examination to certify that we were fit to climb towers: 200-foot microwave towers, 150-foot antenna towers, etc. Part of the exam was a spirometer test to determine lung capacity. The first time the chief medical officer looked at my test he mused, "Hmm, 54 years old, lung capacity of a 25-year old...I bet you never smoked." "I started when I was 16, smoked a pack a day when I was 28. I'm still a regular smoker." "????" "One cigar a week." "Exercise?" I reported. "Keep up the cigars. They seem to be good for you," the doc pretended to advise, with an ironic smile. These days I may go a month or six weeks without a cigar, but when I want one, I have a stash of a few Cuban Montecristos I brought back from my last foray to Southeast Asia. However, ten years after she graciously quit at my request, my ex-wife still craved a cigarette. Different strokes for different smokers. RNJ
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