The Coke Mile

I'm back from a week of the flu and a major caffeine withdrawal headache.  I hadn't planned on cutting caffeine the week that I got the flu, but it had to be done, so I figured I might as well be miserable all at once and get it over with.

Caffeine.  My nemesis.  My Kyrptonite.  My drug.

I was thinking the other day about when I ran my marathon.  I was at mile 18, and was starting to feel depleted, when I came around the corner and there was my coach and his wife waving a sign for me, cheering, and carrying a goody bag.  And do you want to know what was in that bag?  Along with some crackers and nuts, was a beautiful ice cold, sweet, delicious, fizzy can of Coke.

It was the best can of coke I've ever had.  I drank it as I walked for a few minutes and all the other marathoners around me were saying "Hey!  Where'd you get the Coke?"  "Oh MAN!  I want some Coke too!"  I thought it was hilarious.  All these runners coveting my fizzy soda.  But man-oh-man did that can carry me through the rest of the race.  It was exactly what I needed.  For miles I felt refreshed, energized, and like I was flying.  It wasn't until the last mile, that with every stride I was telling myself that this was definitely the stupidest thing that I had ever done.

I emailed Coke after the race and told them about my experience, and suggested that they start sponsoring races and set up "The Coke Mile."  Hand exhausted runners a straight shot of sugar and caffeine.  What's not to love?  I think it's a fantastic idea, but they sent me an email back saying that they were too big of a company to take suggestions from people (but thanks anyway).

Maybe I should send my idea to Pepsi.

I'm hoping that maybe if I'm good in life-- really, really good, that maybe when I arrive to those pearly gates  St. Peter will greet me with a cold glass bottle (heck, crystal since we're talking about Heaven) filled with sweet syrupy fizz.  He'll look at me with a warm smile, and say "Ya done good kid.  Welcome to Heaven.  Now here's your Coke."

It will be just like that Coke mile from my marathon.  Only better, because it'll be Heaven, and I won't have eight more miles to run, and everything will be all groovy and perfect and everything.  And I bet in Heaven that Coke won't be made with high fructose corn syrup and artificial sweeteners (wait, isn't that the kind they bottle in Mexico?  Note to self:  Study up on Mexico.  You may need to speak Spanish on the other side) and that it won't give you a headache for a week after you stop drinking it either.

That's what I'm hoping for anyway.