Powered by Slurpee.

Against my better judgment, I (Noel) bought a new pair of Nikes.

Last Friday after the black toenail episode I went to the running shop to purchase a new, larger pair of my favorites, the Asics Gel Kayano, and because they were out of my size I was persuaded to try on a “comparable shoe” before making my decision. I had plans with Jake and Kevin to run a 10-mile loop around DC in the morning and couldn’t run without shoes. The sales clerk came out with a Nike box. I shuddered.

In the mid-1990s I purposefully switched from running in Nikes because of their poor labor practices and workers rights (not to mention human rights) violations. The clerk assured me that because of the backlash among consumers (and the world at large) Nike had cleaned up their act and was now one of the most respected in the business. After trying on the shoe, I acquiesced. The shoe fit magnificently – a wider toe box and cushiony insoles cupping my heels felt like a walking down Easy Street in a lazyboy recliner. I was ready for my run around Capitol Hill.

I met Jake and Kevin at the Eastern Market metro station. We three were suited up and ready to go – heart rate monitors, water bottles, and new shoes for me. Our intention was to run thirteen miles with the promise of a 7-Eleven slurpee at the end. I can roll with that, I thought. No problem. I haven’t had a Slurpee since high school and I ran thirteen miles a few weeks ago. We started off quick – my heart rate shot up. I suddenly missed the plentiful and freshly running water fountains scattered around Rome. We were lucky to find one working fountain in DC. Jake, Kevin and I were talking, catching up, admiring the sights along the mall and sweating under the DC humidity. It’s been a while since I’ve run in a group – it was great! But, by mile seven I was spent. I needed to walk. Running 10 beats per minute above my normal heart rate range left me feeling like I was continuously sprinting for the finish line. But the Slurpee, I thought. I’ve got to earn the Slurpee! Finally, my legs downshifted and my lazyboy feet fell into walk mode. When I caught my breath I started running again, slowly, still smiling, and trying to keep Jake in view as we ran the final stretch up Pennsylvania Avenue toward the 7-Eleven on 8th Street.

Now I know my nutrition friends may not promote sugar-sweetened frozen beverages on a daily basis, or on any basis, but what about the glycogen window? And what about the disgusting (to me) goo that some of my teammates ingest (a-hem, I won’t mention any names here - wink)? Isn’t that stuff is exactly like a Slurpee but without the spoonstraw?

This is what I know: after such a long run in the heat, that Slurpee tasted like an elixir that would let me live forever. I immediately went into robot mode and walked into the CVS to buy camera batteries muttering under my breath “Powered – By – Slurpee! Powered – By – Slurpee.” Jake and I even went back for refills.

Ten minutes later I was wandering through the United States Botanic Garden admiring the pineapple plants, the beautiful Don Juan flower, the exquisite Bleeding Hearts from Africa and (yes, this is true) the Clematis Sugar Candy. See? The world is powered by Slurpee.