If you’d asked me a month ago, I would have (a little sheepishly) described myself as a caffeine addict. My morning routine revolved around the coffee machine, and I was averaging three to four cups a day, with my first gulp taken on the way out the door, and my last poured around 3 pm. The result? I was jittery, regularly bloated, and battling a mid-afternoon energy crash that hit like clockwork.
There’s some important context here. I’m a classic morning person who gets her best thinking (and moving) done before 10 am, which often means packing in workouts and creative tasks before most people have even hit snooze. I say that with not a hint of boasting. It’s actually incredibly inconvenient, as it makes my mornings regularly feel hectic, with increasingly early alarms, and less and less time for breakfast. Caffeine became my crutch, filling the gap where a meal should have been and giving me the illusion of energy and focus. My second cup would arrive as soon as I hit my desk, and by mid-afternoon, a third, and sometimes fourth, was inevitable.
