I think it’s terrific that Gatorade and some of the other energy drink companies have come up with a new hydration method. “Drinking” is sooo 2007. Have you seen these packets of powdered Gatorade concentrate? Wonderful.
It’s been a long time since I did some rails off a hooker’s chest. Of course, back then that wasn’t Gatorade and it ultimately cost me a high level position in the State Department.* Since then, I’ve backed off and snorted nothing more than crushed up aspirin mixed with sprinkled Tabasco and used a coffee table to prop up the inhalant rather than a prostitute. Overall, a much safer choice. I’m gainfully employed. And I don’t have nose herpes.
Now comes powdered Gatorade and the marriage of two of my favorite activities: snorting things and running.
Using my well practiced skills, I’ve chopped, divided and formed several rails of powdered Gatorade on the kitchen counter before every long run. It’s easy really. A razor blade. A rolled up fiddy. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. Rub nose vigorously. There, I’m ready for my long run Mr. DeMille. What a quick and cool way to prepare for your hydration needs. Besides “drinking” has negative connotations these days. It suggests alcoholism. And who wants to look like an alcoholic standing around swigging from a paper bag covered 40 ouncer of Gatorade at the start line of your next race?
No, best to go with snorting.
The only thing I’m having trouble figuring out is how to incorporate this into my marathons. The races themselves, ever slow to evolve, are still handing out cups of liquid water and Gatorade at each aid station. Sheesh, might as well hang a sign that proclaims “We support drinking in all of its forms. Liquor up, kids!”
I think I can convince Mrs. Nitmos to hang in the starting corrals of my next race where she’ll need to go topless as I snort my pre-race lines off her chest. It might be a tad awkward for her and the other runners but old habits die hard. Plus, it’s the big day. Is it too much to ask my lovely bride of 13 years to expose herself among potentially 30,000 runners so I can get adequately hydrated? She’s my support team and these kinds of things are expected.** Besides, as I always say, “electrolyte replenishment isn’t fulfilling unless it’s snorted through a rolled up bill from my wife’s bosom.”
The aid stations get a little trickier. You’d need scoopers and choppers to get the lines set up and moving. It’d be ridiculous to suggest that part of our race fees go to buying up the local prostitutes to man the stations wouldn’t it? Right?? So, the table top will probably have to do.
There’d be no cups littering the grounds. No spilled and wasted drinks thrown to the side. Basically, doing our part to save the environment. I’m quite sure the number of plastic race cup refuse makes up a larger part of our landfills than our used up hookers.
Some may be thinking hey, I can bring a spoon, lighter and rubber hose. I can cook the Gatorade and main line it for immediate impact. This is a pretty good idea except for two things: so far Gatorade is only being sold in an eight ball sized quantity and hasn’t reached main line level purity and we really don’t want to be promoting heroin usage. Again, negative societal connotations to “shooting up”. Think of the children. Plus, arranging all of this at every aid station is a real time killer. Who has time to sit back and listen to the Allman Brothers for a few minutes after "hydrating" mid race?
I think the snorting makes a lot more sense. We can finish our races hydrated and green and not promoting alcoholism or needle work. Basically, Gatorade has solved our hydration needs, climate crisis, and revitalized the prostitution industry all in one neat little powdered package. Bravo!
At the finish line, you’ll still get your race medal, mylar blanket, maybe do a line of powdered banana off a loved one.
It’s all good. Except maybe the increased chance of nose herpes.
* Though – to be fair – they only discovered my habit when a local WalMart found me sleeping nude in a plastic swimming pool in their garden department one morning. Thanks channel 9!
** As is being the investigator and arbitrator of whether that was a fart or a shart.
In my last post, I regrettably discussed inbreds. I wish I hadn't. But now that the cat is out of the bag, so to speak, isn't it weird how Thomas Haden Church, from Wings and Spiderman 3 fame, looks eerily like the two inbreds in the photo from my last post?