Thursday, 02 April 2009

• How [Not] To Complete the Milk Challenge

  
  
  

  
  I was perusing the healthkicker blog just now and I came across a post concerning the milk aka gallon challenge.  Now, no matter what you may read online or hear from your friends, there is certainly dispute over the official rules. 
  
  Some say the gallon must be whole milk, others a minimum requirement of 2%.  Now I am quite the milk drinker (my god do I love cereal), but I generally abide by 2%, and these days even 1%.
  
  
   The only other real point of contention surrounds the hour time limit.  Some say you have an hour to drink it, and must hold it down for five minutes, others that you must hold it down for five minutes after the hour, regardless of when you finish.
  
  Healthkicker also begged the question whether anyone had attempted or succeeded at milk challenge.  Historically the answer is yes. Many people have.  Joey Chestnut, he of Nathan's Hot Dog-Eating Contest fame, not only completed it, he did it in 41 seconds! 
  
  Now Joey is out of his mind and not worth comparing yourself to, but as one of the humans who has successfully completed the task, I thought I would share with you some of the tips, the trials, and the tribulations of what is really a beautiful journey.
  
  Before successfully completing the gallon challenge, I had two failed attempts.  Milk, you can have your battles, I'll take the war.  The first effort came on a whim down at a friend's beachhouse down in LBI; oh yes, I'm from Jersey.  We were kickin' it downtown (not really the right terminology) and stopped in at one of many pizza joints, where I indulged in a cheese steak and a couple of slices of white pizza.  I mean, I was hungry and I wasn't anticipating milk challenge as a certainty and I am also a retard.  Sometime not long after four in the morning, we'd decided I should give things a shot.  I mean, a gallon of 2% milk isn't going to drink itself.
  
  So I sat there, quite determinedly, drinking milk by the twelve-ounce glass.  Around glass seven I would say, the old tummy got a little bit disgruntled, but I knew I must push on.  I'd thought I'd paced myself, but how wrong I was.  At around the fifty-two minute mark, not having had a sip of milk for at least ten minutes, I looked at the three-quarters full glass and decided to face the inevitability of vomit.  At this point I feel you'd lose something from the scene to not know I was on crutches after semi-significant leg surgery.  Now, I hardly felt we were making much noise despite all of the energy in the air, but sure enough a neighbor emerged to tell us to "keep it down."  In his defense it was, I believe, after five AM at this point.  I took it as a sign and chugged the last eight-to-ten ounces of my white nemesis, hobbled to the railing of the beach house deck, and then proceeded to let out a guttural cry as milk flew in giant waves from my mouth and nose.  It wanted to come out my eyes, but with my contacts in, I refused to let that happen.  I can't quite describe to you the building discomfort in my belly, but I can tell you the joy and relief of that milky release was spectacular, even if it did leave my nose with a scent of sour milk.  The only better boot experience was one time after eating too much ice cream; it came up still cold and tasting like delicious ice cream.  If that was what vomit normally tasted like, everyone would be throwing up.
  
  After such a failure, the only left to do was to try it again, this time with 1% milk, with competition, and without crutches.  Now on this particular occasion,  we'd strolled in pretty late and hit up a Taco Bell for some grub moments before arrival.  Lest we not be on the same page here, this is not an intelligent base.  We'd thrown around the idea of the challenge again, so this time I was a bit more prepped, mentally at least.  The minutes flew by and again the pain grew oppressive but at forty-five minutes, my competitor (we'll call him "M") and I both stood strong.  I was talking frequently about needing to lurch and M said to let him know because if I did, the sight alone would make him do the same. 
  
  I could tell I was on the brink, and so M took to the upstairs deck, which is situated perpendicular to the lower one on which I remained stationed.  Again, with just one glass staring me in the face I took it to the dome before emitting my same guttural vomit.  The sound alone triggered M's reflexes and for several glorious moments in time, beauteous white streams of vomit danced perpendicular to one another.
  
  Now the third time, well, I was a seasoned pro, but stories of success are far too boring in comparison to stories of failure, so I'll cut it here.  But to answer your one glaring question, yes, my urine did smell of sour milk the next morning.  How else do you think I keep the ladies lining up?
  
  Have you ever tried the milk challenge?  If the opportunity presented itself or you were dared, would you?
  
  

  Jeremy

  http://mancouch.com
  
  

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