It’s Like Christmas…Only Different


So here I am, clicking away on my laptop late on a Monday night, looking forward to tomorrow.  Why, you ask?  Well, not only am I planning to shoot out of bed and get my miles in…but my order from an on-line running store is due to be delivered.  A new Salomon hydration pack.  80 ounces of water.  Pockets for everything.  A snug fit, yet a coooool look.  OH YEAH.  I am the running equivalent of Tim the Tool Man Taylor.

 

I’m hoping that you remember Tim Allen’s TV show from the 1990’s, Home Improvement.  He played Tim The Tool Man Taylor – a Bob Villa wannabe that could do no right on his set when it came to things that were sharp, gas-powered or otherwise remotely hazardous.  He would let out several funny-sounding grunts which sounded like a Santa Claus hopped up on biscotti and Kahlua as he spoke of such manly things as a turbo charger, muscle cars and really loud motorcycles that go 180 miles per hour.  He loved the concept of “More POWER!”  For instance: he once figured that if a tractor mower that was powered by a small 2 cylinder gas engine was cool, just imagine how awesome a V-8, turbo-charged model would be!  So…..he builds one…..then tries it out…..only to lose control and go motoring through the garages, living rooms…and ultimately a neighbor’s swimming pool.

 

Well folks…I am the running equivalent of Tim The Tool Man Taylor.  Right after I decided to run a marathon this Sunday morning solo, I went on-line in search for gadgets that would make me feel like an alpha runner as I waddled around Manhattan.  I found…

 

…a headlamp with a halogen light on it that was so strong I could signal passing ships on the Hudson River at 5am.  HO HO HO!!!

 

…I identified running shorts with a secret zipper pocket just big enough to store a VISA card.  Too bad that by the time I get finished with all this shopping, I won’t need the secret pocket because the VISA won’t have enough credit left on it to pay for a cab home from Battery Park.  (ho ho ho, though, out of respect for the James Bond-looking shorts).

 

…I found tablets that turn a bottle of water into a healthy, electrolyte drink that tastes like Pepsi.  HO…HO…HO!!!

 

…there were cool looking technical shirts that were specifically designed to protect against raw nipples, HO HO HO HO HO!!!!!  (Yes, ladies, we get raw nipples from long distance runs too – this is a G-rated blog so work with me here), water bottles that are so eco-friendly that they actually help heal the ozone layer, and energy gels that taste like tiramisu from Arthur Avenue in the Bronx….say it with me….HO HO HO HO HO!!!!!

 

My computer provided me with the distance runner’s version of soft core porn.  And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better…..there was the Salomon hydration pack.  It was the Ferrari of hydration packs.  It would make me faster just by adding to my alpha-maleness.  It was black, with cool lettering.  Pockets everywhere.  A water bladder that not only keeps water cold, but it magically flavors it to taste like Captain Morgan.  It even enhances the reception on my cell phone, it comes with one month of free cable TV, and it can read me bedtime stories (if I ever had trouble sleeping).  THIS….WAS….A….NECESSITY.  Within minutes, one was purchased via the magic of wireless internet and available credit (those fools at the bank will never learn…hehehe).

 

If Elvis were a marathon runner (and he is, folks – I have run with The King several times), and he was planning a run like mine next Sunday, he would buy this hydration pack…and I bet it would make Teddy Bear sound even better.

 

So this magical product will arrive at my doorstep tomorrow.  I keep clicking on the link provided on my confirmation email, which bounces me to FedEx’s website.  It shows me exactly where my beloved hydration pack currently resides.  Somewhere in Tennessee as of 10:02pm.  For some reason, I think that if I keep clicking on this link every 15 minutes, the hydration pack will be drawn to my laptop like some sort of runner’s magnet.  For some reason, this concept….well….sucks.  It doesn’t work.

 

So now my evening turned into Christmas Eve.  I have to go to sleep and wait for the Jolly Ol’ Fed Ex to show up and ask for my electronic signature tomorrow morning.  Don’t kid yourself: I’m leaving cookies out, along with a glass of Soy milk (because, if you believe some of the websites out there, Saint Nick is lactose intolerant).

 

Oh crap…I am working all day tomorrow.  What if they indeed require a signature?  Something tells me I’m screwed…..

 

Until tomorrow, friends!  Here’s hoping that your Tuesday is fun and productive.  Get out there and get into motion.  Get in some exercise.  I don’t care what form of exertion you choose – just break a sweat at some point today.

 

You don’t get today back – so make it count.

 

___________________________________________________________________

If you’d like some information on The Dream Team Project or would like to make a donation to their amazing cause, please stop by the website:  www.wdwradio.com/the-dream-team-project  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I really believe in what The Dream Team Project stands for.  It raises money for the Make-a-Wish Foundation, helping to grant the wishes of children suffering from life-threatening illnesses.  Being s former wish-granter for the NYC Chapter of the Make-a-Wish Foundation, I can tell you first-hand just how much of an impact this organization makes in the lives of children.  Please consider donating to this worthy cause.  Thanks!

 

…and if you’d like a bit more information on the WDW Radio Running Team, please check out the Facebook page at: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/WDW-Radio-Running-Team/163606410344409

 

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2 thoughts on “It’s Like Christmas…Only Different”

  1. Dude – you live in New York and you Shop On Line??? That is just a whole pile of crazy right there. Here is hoping the new bladder pack fits! Happy Christmas/Eid/Hanaka/birthday/mail order day.

    1. Hmmm….my simple response: I never pay retail!!! LOL. Also, Salomon hydration packs don’t appear to be sold in running stores within Manhattan. Maybe that’s because they cannot keep them on the shelves. Oy….

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