A schedule cancellation set me free yesterday morning. I jumped at the chance to sneak in a loop at the Miccosukee Greenway with Mystery. On the way over to his exclusive gated community I stopped for a diluted decaf Americano at Craig’s Killer Coffee. I needed some calories to see me through the 20 mile slog on wet grass and the options were slim. A pan of blueberry muffins, straight from the oven sat on the counter, wafting buttery steam through the air. Impulsively I changed my order to a full throttle latte and asked for a muffin to chase it down.
On the way to Mystery’s exclusive gated community I tore that thing apart and ate it with all the gluttony and guilt of a mother stealing food from her baby’s mouth. I chugged down that whole milk, full caffeinated bucket of lust right behind it. Mystery was never the wiser. For the first 30 minutes of the ride I loped easily up and down the eastern hills, my legs deep and oaken. Somewhere east of I-10 the muffin descended into my pyloric valve and seized up the works. Oh the discomfort! The cramping and gassing! The refined white flour and refined white sugar molecules locked in a sticky unbreakable chemical chain of misery. Mystery sensed difficulty in my wheelhouse and began to turn the screws. With belly distended I hung on until the end and beat it out of his community via the service entrance, my gastro-intestinal delegation unsure of a proper course of action.
What had I done? A year without gluten, sugar, or caffeine thrown away in a fit of id-driven berry lust? Was this to be the end of the roll?
I tossed my office like Homeland Security and found my sponsor’s number. On the card it read, CORE 5:30 P:M. I rolled up my mats and jumped in the van. I needed a meeting.
For 75 minutes I flexed the valve in every direction, squeezing and stretching my guts while the buttery steam released from my pores.
Oh Great Magnet forgive me!
Hardly the ringing endorsement Craig might have hoped for.
I find that an omnivorous diet that includes sugar and white flour forestalls most muffin mishaps.
Nobody in this town makes a better coffee than Cameron or Craig. That’s a fact. And my addictions are not their responsibility.
One good slip is the best reminder of that slippery slope so honor it. 🙂
In every great war epic, once a soldier reminisces and yields, he dies.
Carry on; only a near miss.
Also, you can easily modify a shin-guard for your pyloric valve; it’s the insertion that’s tough.