Dad Bod Diaries Week 6: Five things I’ve learned about coffee, fitness, and moderation

There was a period of my life when coffee wasn't a drink — it was a strategy

Bernard O'Shea: 'Lots of coffee meant you were busy. Important. Flat out. A grafter. Which is how coffee quietly embedded itself not just in my routine, but in my identity.'

Still 17 stone.

I didn’t used to wake up tired; I woke up temporarily uncaffeinated. And that proved to be a fixable problem. One mug became two. Two became “sure I’ll top that up”.

By mid-morning, I’d be vibrating gently. Nobody, including myself, ever doubted my quivering. Lots of coffee meant you were busy. Important. Flat out. A grafter. Which is how coffee quietly embedded itself not just in my routine, but in my identity — right alongside long voice notes, motorway naps, Red Bull, and a very selective understanding of moderation.

This is what I’ve learned...

1. Coffee didn’t become fancy — we became desperate for structure

There was a time when coffee was something you drank because you were tired. Now it’s something you arrive with. It has a lid, a logo, a milk preference — and a quiet implication that you’ve been up since dawn, engaging in something meaningful.

Coffee reached its peak at the exact moment adult life became messy. Kids. Work. Sleep deprivation. Responsibility that doesn’t clock off. Coffee stepped in as the one socially acceptable stimulant we all agreed not to interrogate too closely. If you drink a lot of it, you’re not struggling — you’re driven. You’re ‘on it’. This is how I justified drinking coffee, the way other people might approach mild narcotics. Coffee wasn’t fuelling me — it was overriding me.

2. The gym didn’t add a barista byaccident — it added one because we needed reassurance

I remember gyms that smelled of rubber mats, disinfectant, and quiet self-loathing. You lifted things, you sweated, you left. If there had been a vending machine, it wouldn’t have worked.

Now? You finish a workout, and there’s a barista waiting for you like it’s Milan. Flat whites. Oat milk. Filter coffee brewed by someone whose forearms suggest they do deadlifts while washing one of their kids in the bath. In the US — LA, Austin, New York — gyms and coffee shops have practically merged into one soft-focus lifestyle ecosystem. You don’t just work out; you linger. Laptop out. Hoodie on. You’re not sweating — you’re curating.

Bernard O'Shea: 'Coffee reached its peak at the exact moment adult life became messy. Kids. Work. Sleep deprivation. Responsibility that doesn’t clock off. Coffee stepped in as the one socially acceptable stimulant we all agreed not to interrogate too closely.'

I get it. Exercise on its own is confronting. Coffee softens it. It says: you’re not here because you hate yourself — you’re here because you’re the kind of person who trains and then discusses single-origin beans.

There’s a reason an Irish brand is literally called Gym + Coffee. They didn’t invent the idea. But they did an excellent job at naming and branding it. Coffee signals taste and adulthood. The gym signals discipline and virtue. Together, they form a neat little narrative you can wear. I’ve worn the hoodie. I’m pretty sure I’m the last person their marketing team envisioned wearing it... but too late, that middle-aged, big-bellied man horse has bolted.

3. Coffee can help with dieting — but only if you stop using it as a disguise

Here’s the inconvenient truth: coffee does help if you behave. Caffeine can gently blunt appetite in the morning, which can reduce mindless snacking. It can nudge the body to use fat as fuel during steady exercise, such as walking.

But — and this is where I went wrong — coffee does none of this if you’re using it to avoid food, sleep, or listening to yourself.

Skip breakfast, stack coffees, and suddenly you’re ‘not hungry’ until mid-afternoon, when you’re feral, staring into the press as if it owes you money. That’s not discipline. That’s chemistry having a row with your nervous system.

Coffee works best when it supports habits, not when it replaces them. That distinction took me years to learn.

4. Coffee is most useful as an anchor, not a coping mechanism

This was the quiet shift for me. Coffee is already a part of my day. It doesn’t need willpower. It doesn’t need motivation. It just happens. Instead of using it to override tiredness, I’ve started using it to attach better behaviour.

I’ll have a coffee and go for a walk... I’ll treat myself to a nice coffee after I eat something planned.

The coffee doesn’t change. The behaviour around it does. Last week I shocked myself by bringing packed lunches to gigs. I’m eating before shows instead of pretending adrenaline is a food group. I’m planning instead of winging it. Coffee is the prize, the teachers’ little red biro tick I get for being ‘good’.

5. Moderation isn’t boring — it’s what trust looks like

This is the part middle-aged brains hate. Moderation feels similar to giving up. It doesn’t give you the buzz of restriction or the relief of collapse. It requires trust — in yourself, in the process, in the idea that not everything needs to be urgent. Dieting takes away comfort. Treats go. Spontaneity goes. Ease goes. 

If you remove everything enjoyable, something snaps. I know this because it’s happened to me repeatedly. So I’ve stopped banning coffee. I’ve stopped dramatising it. I still have my cup of Joe every morning. Occasionally, a second. On purpose. Enjoyed. Not inhaled like a man fleeing his own fatigue.

The scales still say 17 stone. They remain deeply unimpressed by caffeine intake or barista restraint. But just like with the packed lunches, the dark chocolate in the fridge may be related to the way food is changing. However, my brain appears to be saying: “Very interesting. Let’s see if you keep this up.” Yeah, let’s see.