Hey everyone and welcome to another exciting San Diego BMW Motorcycles blog update. Today's post is a recap of an event that Rob Danner and I took part in over the weekend. Saturday morning to be exact. A friend of a friend had put together a benefit for Toys For Tots. The objective: Run two miles as fast as you can. Eat one dozen Krispy Kreme glaze donuts. Then run another two miles to the finish line. The following is this participants account of that mornings activities:
-7:15am. Rob and I are stretching in preparation for the start. Carefully eyeing the competition, making mental notes of waist lines. A taller gentleman to my left looks like he might be a problem. He's wearing a $200 pair of Puma running shoes and looks hungry...real hungry. We're gonna need to get out to a big lead early in the run because I can tell by the look in this mans eyes he can crush the 12 donuts NO problem.
-7:30 am. The starter says "Go" and the run is on. I start out at a pretty good clip which settles me comfortably in 7th place. Rob is a few runners back. I'm running faster than my marathon pace and feeling more winded because of it. It's been 4 loooong years since Sergeant DeAngelis was running 3 mile PFT's for time and score....It shows. Last night's 3 Dewers on the rocks and that cigar are flashing through my mind. Nonetheless I clip off 6th and 5th place runners by the close of the first mile. The first 3 participants are long gone....ultra runners: can't beat em, can't join em (that means you Bill Siebold).
-7:14am. I cross the halfway line and make my way over to the "Consumption Station" (huge table stacked with Krispy Kreme donut boxes). I recall Tedd and Rob, while talking me into this idiotic event, explaining how light and airy KK's donuts are and that "One Krispy Kreme donut is like eating glazed air." As I'm handed my box with a big number "8" markered on the lid I realize that no....this box of 12 donuts feels every bit as heavy as any other box of 12 donuts I've ever carried. As I slip open the lid I'm confronted with 12 average sized donuts COVERED in glaze. I have NEVER seen this much glaze on donuts. These little suckers must be 400 calories a piece! Hey, it's for charity right? Aggravated, I sit down on the ground with 2 cups of water, remove the first donut from my box and begin.
The first bite is poison. The preceding two mile sprint has dropped my blood sugar level. Now, as though giving my metabolism the adventure salute, I'm taking a bite of this hellish pastry. My face contorts into that familiar "I just did a double shot of grocery store tequila" shape and I frantically reach for the water. The H2O chaser helps slightly. Hey, it's for charity right? About this time Rob sits down next to me with his box of Mc Yucky, opens it and:
Rob: "Dude....that's a lot of glazing"
Me: "Yeah, I see that. Light n airy. Jerk"
Rob: "No really, I worked at a Krispy Kreme back in high school...we didn't make em like this"
Me: "Really? Probably a health issue. You're still a jerk."
Rob: "How many have you eaten?"
Me: "THIS, my friend" holding up the remaining half donut "is my first one. You actually think you can eat 12 of these crap cakes?"
Rob: "Gotta bro...or get DQ'd"
Rob picks up one of his Mc Yuckys and jams the entire thing in his mouth. The other hand reaches for the water and in one smooth motion he chases the donut with a water shooter. He lets out a grunt, clears his throat and goes in for a second donut. His wife, Melanie makes her way over with another cup of water. I'm calling him an idiot between dry-heaves, still eyeing what remains of my
first donut.
Another minute passes and now the runners are coming in rapid like. Each one grabbing his or her box of Krappy Kreme and going to work. I'm staring down number 3 with contempt. Suddenly a cheer erupts from the crowd and I see the lead guy (Tracy) dash off. HE'S FINISHED! Tracy runs 100 mile ultra marathons in the mountains, is probably 45 years old and SOMEHOW just powered down 12 of these god awful things. And NOW, as if that all wasn't enough, he's in a dead sprint down the course.
Rob lets out another grunt and to my horror as I turn back his direction I see that he only has 3 of his hell-bagels left. My temper flares. I reach down, grab my water, shove the remainder of my 2nd donut in my face, chew, swallow, chase.
Rob: "There you go Sean. Give em hell."
Me: "I'm about to hit you. These are the nastiest things I've ever eaten."
Rob: "They're not that bad. Just don't focus on the taste."
Me: "Rob, we've know each other a long time..but really, I'm gonna hit you if you say another word about these donuts."
Rob: "Does '
This is my last one' count as talking about the donuts?"
AHHH! I stand up, grab my box of fried, glazed yuck and head for the trash can toss it in and walk straight over to the scoring table. I let the man with the clipboard know that I'm disqualified fall in pace next to Rob as he sets off on the second 2 mile loop.
Rob: "Dude. I feel bad....like...really bad."
Me: "Really, that's surprising, it was only 12 light and airy, delicious, heavily glazed Krispy Kreme donuts.
Rob: "DON'T talk about them." he burps "Oh god...they're fighting me."
Me: "Easy Rob...go easy man."
I feel like I'm talking down a hostage situation now. Me versus Rob's gigantic stomach. I look back and can see other runners departing the consumption station. They look like hungover high schoolers doing the panic exodus from some unsuspecting parents home the morning after a kegger. Somehow, Rob is managing a pretty good pace despite the gluttony. We continue the remainder of the run and upon finishing Rob is declared 7th place.
In retrospect, all the toys we collected (the entry fee was one new, unwrapped toy and $7 to cover the dirty dozen) went to Toys for Tots San Diego chapter so I can't be completely bummed. But in the future I'm gonna recommend Keith substitute taco's or egg nog or hard boiled eggs or ANYTHING but those double original glazed Krispy Kreme roundies.
It's funny how the motorcycling world fits together. In December 2005 Kit and I were touring Tazmania, the island below Australia, with our friends Lin and Prue when we encountered this gal on her way back over to mainland Australia to sell the R100RT she was riding. Her name was Margaret Peart a.k.a. Beemerbird and she told us she was planning a trip to the states and I said look us up when you pass through. Sure enough Margaret has stayed with us 4 times how on her travels in the Americas.
