Getting to the bottom of this obnoxiously large 1-gallon water jug every day

I am not, by nature, a water drinker. I drink it at the gym in the morning, but after that, it's usually coffee or nothing at all.

I realize this is not a healthy approach to fluid intake, though, so lately I've been trying to up my water consumption by purchasing the big ol' water bottle you see above. I was inspired by my daughter Chloe and my son Jack, both of whom have similarly large H2O containers from which they drink consistently.

This isn't the first time I've tried to take in more water. My inconsistent attempts at becoming more like my dad (who drank water and beer in equally prodigious quantities) stretch back more than 30 years.

When I was marathon training in 2001, for example, I drank a lot of water because I had to in order to keep my body properly hydrated for running dozens of miles a week. The second I crossed the finish line, though, my water drinking plummeted immediately to pre-training levels.

It's not that I don't like water. It's just not a particularly attractive option for me. It's just...you know, water. I can take it or leave it.

Again, though, I understand the health benefits of proper hydration, so I'm giving it another go by setting for myself the daily goal of filling Jumbo the Water Jug and drinking its entire contents. It takes a concerted effort, but I've been doing it.

The inevitable and wholly predictable result, of course, has been an alarming rise in bathroom trips. I have already worn out a path to the men's room at the office. Supposedly your body eventually adjusts to ingesting higher quantities of fluid, but so far my body's only response has been, "Stop drinking so much or else we're going to spend the rest of your life seeking out restrooms."

Actually, finding restrooms has been high on my daily agenda ever since I hit my mid-40s. So that part isn't new.

What is new, however, is the impressive level of bladder control I have developed during work meetings. No longer do I have to rush directly from conference rooms immediately to the nearest urinal.

These days it's more of a controlled trot.

I should be in Boston today

On Sunday, October 14, 2001, I ran the Towpath Marathon through the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. It was 26.2 miles of trees, drizzle and the occasional spectator.

I finished that first marathon of my life in a time of 3 hours, 46 minutes, 20 seconds. It was a huge accomplishment, culminating months of training and years of planning.

I was a few weeks away from turning 32 years old and was in probably the best shape of my life. The Towpath was supposed to have been the first in a series of marathons over the course of which I would improve my training techniques, lower my times and eventually run some of the most well-known races in the world.

Instead, life got in the way.

Terry and I had four kids at the time, and a fifth would come along less than five years later. I started coaching youth sports and getting more involved in my children's activities. My job responsibilities increased. My free time – the time needed to do those leisurely three-hour Saturday morning training runs – dwindled rapidly.

In the years that followed, I vowed to recommit to marathons dozens of times. I would type up a training schedule, start to follow it, then fall off a few weeks into the process when I realized I just didn't have the time to train for such long races anymore.

I desperately wanted to run the Cleveland Marathon. Or the Marine Corps Marathon. Or the New York City Marathon.

Most of all, I wanted to run the Boston Marathon.

Running a marathon is a bucket list item, but running Boston is the pinnacle. It's the most recognized and most highly celebrated marathon in the world. For one thing, you can't just enter the Boston Marathon. You have to qualify for it, and the qualifying times are pretty ambitious by almost any standard.

To run Boston means that you've not only conquered the marathon distance, it means you've whipped it into submission.

But it has never happened. The 119th running of the Boston Marathon is today, and I won't be there. Again.

Marathon training is a time-intensive proposition. Not just on the weekends, but even throughout the week when you're trying to crank out the 6- and 8-mile morning runs that prepare your mind and body for 3-plus hours of hard effort on race day.

So for now, no thank you. It's time to stop kidding myself. At this stage of my life, if I want anything approaching enough sleep and to spend even meager amounts of time with my family, then marathon training is out of the question.

That doesn't mean it's always going to be out of the question, but for now that's the way it is. And let's face it: None of us is getting any younger. There's the very real possibility that by the time my schedule allows for extended training runs, my body won't. That's just the way it is, folks, and I'm going to roll with it.

But I admit that I'll be watching the highlights from Boston tonight with a little pang of remorse mixed with thoughts of "what if?" Maybe someday...