You can't make 'em drink, true enough . . . but you can politely refuse to slog down the the hill to the well and fill their buckets and labour back up the hill to ensure their drinking water suppy (a lil graphic image from my grandfather's rural home when I was a kid!!)
Oh, no! Surprise visits? Yikes! I'm going to have to clean house! (My dining room table looks like a triathlon transition area, and right now Sophia is leaning against my couch in the family room.)
Seriously, yes, we have to meet one of these years! Maybe I should find a tri in your neck of the woods and trade upon your kind heart to put me up for a few days around the event... you'd see obsession at its finest!