The Day I Ate A Snickers

I was talking to best friend Trisha yesterday and she asked me what was the best part of the 24-hour Crooked Road Ultra challenge

I thought about it for a moment. There was the feeling of pride that comes with facing a fear and meeting a goal. The accomplishment of running over 50 miles. The friendships that were formed or strengthened. The confidence that running such a race gave me overall as I move forward in life. But really, there was one highlight that stood out for me. 

"I got to eat a Snickers," I said. 

Seriously, when was the last time you let yourself eat a candy bar? It has to be at least 10-15 years for me. Sure, I'll eat mini-snickers all day long at Halloween but there was something different about holding a full-sized candy bar in my hand. I just simply never allow myself to go there. 

My friend Marty (who's run several Ironmen) brought me the Snickers when he showed up to run with me. I just kind of looked at it and then it hit me. I was going to eat this thing. Every. Last. Bite. 

It took me 2 miles to do it, but oh my God, best Snickers EVER. I couldn't get over the blatant hedonism of eating the whole thing myself, with no whining to girlfriends about, "Oh, I shouldn't," and "Oh, I hate myself now." Nuh-uh. I licked the wrapper, baby. 

Self-confidence and knocking down walls and exceeding goals is all good, but never underestimate the power of chocolate.