When Dave and I volunteered for the Austin Marathon last year, I worked at the finish line for a while, handing out water. Then I got moved to the food tent where it was my job to keep the food donated by HEB flowing into the hands of the exuberant but exhausted runners. There were granola bars and bananas and oranges and giant boxes stuffed full of shiny, foil grab bags Cheetos, Fritos, Potato Chips, and NACHO CHEESE DORITOS.
We’ve talked about my Doritos problem before.
Last year, I was newly-committed to the Zone, so even though I the volunteer coordinated encouraged us to help ourselves to the snacks, I didn’t eat any… because I had already made a deal with myself: If I run the half marathon next year, I can have Doritos at the finish line.
Doritos, you are officially on notice. Tomorrow, you’re going into my tummy.
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