Saturday, July 10, 2010

I wanna burn fat, but this is ridiculous.

The Whartons don’t let their athletes eat. They make us "fuel." They use this subtle distinction in vocabulary so that we will always be clear that food is nutrition with purpose. It’s FUEL for working out. (This keeps us from squandering fueling opportunity on cookies.)

But today the concept of purposeful food intake took a sinister turn as I was putting gas into my car in Orlando and noticed the instructions on the pump for the first time. The word “fueling” caught my eye.

Read carefully with me.

Unless you pat your car before you fuel, you could burst into flames!

So tonight before dinner, I ran out and patted my car and then returned to the dining room table, nervous, but fairly certain that I could avert spontaneous human combustion. (NOTE: spontaneous human combustion is admirable ONLY on the track as you accelerate down the straight-away.)

Yikes. I want to burn fat, but this is ridiculous.

NOTE: I've been in Orlando, so La Cucina Italiana project will resume on Sunday in Gainesville. Stand by for more serious kitchen action. Unless I burst into flames in the meantime.


  1. Some cookies help you fuel! Like shoe cookies! What fuel is for dinner tonight? Can't wait to hear.

  2. Hey, Donna. You can't believe I'm cooking, can you? Neither can Michael. Neither can I. And no one in the known universe can get over the shock of it. But Bev is trying hard to put all the pieces of a good training program together. Food, oddly, is the most difficult. Oh, yeah. And running. Running is pesky.