Those of us who run and ride love to watch or diets. Not too many fats. Nor carbs. Go easy on the beers if you can. Wine when necessary.
We go gluten-free or carb free or meat free depending on how free we want to be.
But the other day, I had no answer to the question on the side of a Dunkin’ Donuts plastic cup.
“What are you drinkin’?”
I only ordered a small. The lady at the counter either did not hear me or could not understand me. They served up this giant Vanilla Bean Coolatta.
Calories? One zillion. What’s it matter? It was freakin’ huge.
I drank some of it on the way home and proceeded to fall asleep on the couch, eclipsing my window to go out for a run. Friends were coming over. They found me curled up in a semi-fetal position next to the dog on the couch.
“What are you doing?” they asked.
I stared dumbly at them. Looked at my watch.
“I don’t know,” was my answer.
It was the Coolatta. It knocked me out
Not so Coolatta
What’s in that drink? Don’t think I want to know. Surely it isn’t much of a training food. Not something the nutritionist would recommend for superior performance.
Probably lots of sugar. Some milk concentrate. Perhaps. Maybe some powdered soy beans. And ice. Frozen water. It’s crunchy and tastes like the ass end of a vanilla. That’s all I know.
Yes, I know I know I know. Stay away from that stuff. If you want to run and ride well you have to eat and drink like the guys on the Tour de France. Suck water out of a napkin. Strain honey through your lycra. Ask the masseuse to rub Snickers bars into your calves for energy
I used to eat even more shit than I do today. Training 10 miles a day lets you eat anything. You can stuff cheese up your ass and not gain a pound when you’re burning off 5000 calories a day. Food absorbs and dissipates like cirrus clouds on a fall day. Hello, goodbye.
Then you age and your metabolism slows and your pace does too. Then you have to watch what you eat, and a simple question on a Dunkin’ Donuts cup does not sound so simple
“What are you drinkin?’ “ indeed.
Actually I saved the Coolatta in the fridge and used it as dessert for three straight days. So I amortized my bad habit, you might say.
Temptation is nearly always long, tall, and often sweet. It can sweep you off your feet. You can wind up on your back after a run or a ride with a vice by your side and wonder, in Talking Heads style, “Well, how did I get here?”
It’s a habit that’s hard to break. Our vices have us in their grip. They gather on our lower lip. We smile and say it’s all okay.
Then run and ride another day.