Rock this...

Imagine 18,000 people running through Virginia Beach, as fast as they can, at the crack of dawn to the tune of everything from old school rap to heavy metal. I bring you to the Rock-n-Roll Half Marathon 2009. What on earth does this have to do with food and fat...alot. If you know anything about running, you know that it in addition to having top notch running shoes, you must train endlessly... for pre and post race meals. "They" call it "loading" and "replenishing"....I call it... grazing. Trust me when I tell you that I've logged countless hours mastering this particular skill. It requires a delicate balance of non shock to the system (via too much healthy food) whilst replenishing fat stores. Of particular concern, post race skinny cells sending distorted messages of non-hunger. This is how many a fatty go down. If you retain nothing else, chew on this: "At no point in time is it acceptable to succumb to a message of
non-hunger!" I will provide you with a short yet effective rebuttal to such internal insults: RETURN TO SENDER! It's trickery and it's sick...just sick. A true SIF prepares for this sort of debauchery by meal planning at least 13 weeks in advance. You won't find that in Runners World, by the way. Why? Because that trash mag is run by the "other team" of course! I'd rather catch a fatty reading Cooking Light before I'd bear witness to readership of a mag run by pace making, seaweed eating Skinagers! Buy Oprah...she's a well seasoned fatty and I appreciate her willingness to exceed the caloric thresholds set forth by a society that clearly has no respect for the benefits of emotional eating. Jumping off my fat wagon...

If you've never run one of these races, you may not be able to grasp the concept of a fatty running a half marathon. Here's the trick...If you can get past the "What not to wear" crowd, the vision gets alot prettier... I promise. Yes, even the SIF struggle with exercise fashion conscientiousness. How does that old saying go...oil and water don't mix? Nor do a size 22 and spandex. Never. No matter which way you squeeze it, shake it or tuck it...it's still a foot long sub stuffed into a sandwich bag. It's nauseating, distracting and criminal all in one glance. Not for nothin....large contents in small packages sweat more than your average cargo and 13.1 miles is a long way to travel in solitary confinement. And that will serve as the "smellovision" portion of the story.

***Pause for puking in mouth and clearing of highly disturbing visions***

Now, where were we...oh yeah...fatties are runners too. I will freely admit to being beaten by runners with far more junk in their trunk than I'm sportin. Whilst it doesn't thrill me, I'm fat...so I "get it." They have trained their feral fatty to take over when hunger pangs strike thus propelling them forward at unimaginable Kenyan like speeds. So let's say they are at...oh I don't know...mile 1 for example ...and they catch a glimpse of the "Hot and Now" sign flashing at a nearby Krispy Kreme (these dangers lurk). Someone like myself may not notice such a landmark because...well probably bcs I was smelling the bacon waffling from some seedy breakfast joint where all the smart people were. Anyway, this vision sends a signal to their inner feral fatty, which in turn sends a signal to the brain to pick up the pace and then before you know it...the fatties have their own car following them to the finish (runners will "get that"-- all others should become runners if they want to get my jokes-- get crackin). As you can see, I don't stand a chance against a feral, spandexed fatty screaming, "Hot and Now" whilst running for the finish. Personally, I save that phrase for sex, and as you are well aware, I don't get to use it often. Moving right along...

I always enjoy the pre-race expo because...well because they give out free food! Granted we are talking power bars that taste like sand covered road kill and the crowd favorite....smoothies laced with everything you would never eat if you tasted it solo...but you gotta play the game. You walk slowly by these evil vendors and say things like, "Oh sorry, I'm allergic to nuts"
or "Yeah, gosh gee I wish I wasn't lactose intolerant." It allows for a smooth transition to the vendor with "my kinda power bar"...Snicka's! Yes, that's Snickers...as in the candy bar. Instead of taking cardboard and trying to make it taste like a candy bar, they take a candy bar and hide the cardboard! It's freakin genius. Don't even know that shizzle is in there! That's how ya do it folks! God I wish more runners were fat so they could appreciate these sorts of gems! Are you even processing the fact that you can eat a candy bar whilst you are running....OK I'm getting too worked up...must move along or I may have to run to the 7-11 for one...

After the grazing portion of the expo you have to do official stuff like pick up your T-shirt....the second reason I run. Why they give this out before the race has always baffled me. Feed me, cloth me and expect me to show up for the race...high unlikely. When I gave my credentials to the T-shirt man to retrieve said apparel he said the following, "Large?" Where does it end, I ask you? I decided he needed a good dose of my sarcasm, "Objects in front of you may appear smaller than they actually are." He wasn't amused. Nor was I. Then it was off to buy food in the form of "Goo." Liquid motivation if you will....for those of us who's feral fatty likes to nap whilst running, this sugar filled spooge provides a little kick until such time as post race grazing can commence. After consuming everything free, I decided it was time for some training...in the form of a pre-race graze. Typically, I eat 3 or 4 plates of pasta, a couple loves of bread and a salad drowning in Ranch. Failing to plan is planning to fail...as they say. However this year would be different as I was under the gun to make a 7 pm movie. I decided if I watched Julie & Julia, I would be adding a "food movie" to my pre-race training thus securing my position as the 17,999 finisher. I know...I am so FREAKIN good!

No part of my plan included entering a fine Italian restaurant that smelled of fresh bread and homemade pasta sauce, only to have a glass of water and leave! I dare say I'm still scarred by this experience. However, when you have 25 minutes to eat, you need a place where you can shovel and run. I bring you to the Golden Corral. I venture to guess that Tara and I were the ONLY runners patronizing this 5 star establishment. Look...with 10 bucks and 25 minutes things get ugly fast. To spare Tara's reputation as a cross over fatty I will only say this, "That bitch can eat!"...and I'll leave it at that. Ok I thought I could stop there but I can't....there were patrons (being kind) sitting adjacent to us... clearly without dental plans, making payments on pick up trucks with fly strips denoting their bitches, spending their last $10 on dinner... only to be mortified by the shit shoveling hussie across from me who drove to the Corizzle in a Beamer that refuses to make pit stops at Walmart! Me, I just ate my 10 plates under the cover of fat. Given the clientele, I run on the lighter side. Had to save room for the movie, so I forceably removed Tara from her plate.

The movie was great! Every other word was butter or writer! Harmonious. I failed to mention the pit stop I made at Target for movie essentials. Pretty much everything from Swedish Fish to Twizzlers. What's candy without popcorn? A crime! I ate my way through an entire bag of popcorn, a few hundred Junior Mints and half a pail of lemonade. I was as close to comatose as one could get. Of course I couldn't get my pre-race sleep on bcs I kept thinking about going out to breakfast instead of running. It didn't help that Tara agreed to the plan on race morning. Damn I need new friends! "You don't look fat....we don't have to run...let's go to breakfast." Who needs enemies with friends like this, I ask you?! Somehow we managed to pull off a great run. I've gone over it 100 times....must have been the Corizzle/movie combo. I'll be doing that again next year. 13.1 miles aint that far to go for a whole day of post race eating! My ritual is as follows: wake 5am, run 7am, McDonald's 12 pm and 12:10pm - midnight....everything from the left over! God I love running.

I certainly didn't finish first and I was fortunate enough not to be last. Every year I dream of running faster than the last. When that doesn't happen, I fall back on fatty logic for comfort. FAST is just FAT without an S. I can think of alot better things to do with an "S"...like sleep, sex and see Brad Pitt. And I'm spent!