The thirtieth of June was a magical day. I awoke in the Bayliss abode (in the master bed, actually), where we’d weathered our double-rest days in the Twin cities. The other, grander Liz’s wonderful (and sometimes, she tells me, under-celebrated) Dad was slinging pancakes like it was a full-time profession, or they were projectiles or something. But good projectiles, of course, no shortness of positivity! I ate three. This was the morning I would begin my abdication of caffeine—ours had been a tumultuous relationship, and I decided that the heart palpitations I’d been experiencing in the heat of my daytime bicycle crushing were the final,cosmic clue. We’ve been separated for three days.
Anyway. So, if any of you four people who read this have ever tried to quit the coffee habit, you probably know how damnable it is—you get the shakes, a terrible headache, and so on and so forth. The first twenty miles were sad and sweaty! We arrived in the cute, little riverside town of Stillwater after several miles on some bike trail whose name escapes me. I was irritable and slightly starving and convinced that my somewhat-low average speed could be blamed on some mechanical malady afflicting my bicycle. I slathered the drive train with degreaser and scrubbed viciously.
After Samson was once again sparkling and I was convinced that there was nothing actually wrong with him, I joined several other Bike the Us-ers for lunch at Leo’s downtown. Well—I guess I didn’t really join them, I kind of stalked them there and then sat down at a booth that wasn’t totally full. But hey, I do what must be done! My boothy conquest housed Geordie, Margee, and Mr. Alex Pearlman. I was quite pleased with my selection. Skylar shouted from another table, “Liz! You’ve got to get the Double Jumbo!” Double Jumbo, I thought! What is this! SOME SORT OF TRICK!?
I opened a menu and there it was—a sandwich. No! Not just any sandwich. This was the sandwich to sandwich all other sandwiches—Bacon! Onions! One, greasy pound of hamburger meat! THREE SLICES OF OBESE, SOURDOUGH BREAD. It was thirteen dollars, and if I ate everything on my plate within twenty minutes, I got a shirt. Margarine Ankles and I discussed the outcomes of the contest. Could we eat such a sandwich? Was the shirt bombastic enough to warrant such gastrointestinal unhappiness? It was red, and had a cherry over “O” in Leo’s. HOW COULD I SAY NO? Margee decided against the challenge just as she ordered. I said, “Bring me the Double Jumbo, please!” The waitress looked a little excited. I would like to think that I made her shift slightly more exciting. After ordering I was excited—filled with confidence, you could say. I could eat this sandwich! Clearly my fat belly could fit such a morsel inside! But then, as I sat in the booth, I started to really think about it—a whole pound! What if I failed—the shame! I became intensely nervous and sweated a little big more than is socially acceptable. The ladies at the table next door frowned.
Well. Soon, the moment arrived—our little waitress brought the plate bearing my culinary destiny. It was massive, and whoever had slung the burgers pierced a broad steak knife through the burger’s drippy, bacon-crumble heart. The rule with the Double Jumbo is that you’ve got to finish within twenty minutes. That sounded like an excessively long amount of time, so I was hardly worried. I drew the sword from what would probably become my kidney stone and sliced horizontally. The twenty minutes began. The first half was easy—I was starving, and it actually did taste pretty good! Nom, nom! The difficulty really entered in around 75%, I’d say. The burger sort of stopped tasting like food, and as I tried to swallow, little baby bites were still stuck in my esophagus, begging for expulsion. BUT! That red shirt looked so darn cool. So I stuffed my mouth with more sandwich.
I finished in thirteen minutes and fifteen seconds (the entire thing is on video if you don’t believe me—but it is rather gruesome). I felt like a champ. The champ of champs! I waved my red shirt of victory above my head. Alex Pearlman tweeted my victory to the world. I was king for the entirety of the next five minutes. After that, the horror of what I had just done seemed to register within all of my biological systems, and each of them began to rebel against my obvious incapacity to rule. I stumbled outside, and back to the trailer in agony. It was like someone had filled my entire body cavity with bacon bits and mashed potatoes.
I tried to keep moving around, looking for someplace I could go into a coma. I flopped down beneath a large tree overlooking the river. It might’ve been scenic if I could have ignored the powerful urge to die.
I decided that it might be a good idea to sip some water, let the food settle—MISTAKE! The second I put that waterbottle to my lips, I knew that there was no going back. I dove almost entirely into a garbage can and the Double Jumbo became the Double BALGASFNHASLFKHAMHALKMFHFFFFFFFFF.
But I still have the shirt! THAT MEANS I WIN.
OTHER EXCITING POINTS OF THE DAY:
1) 1) swimming with Geordie and Margee in the swollen river
2) 2) cycling shirtless for thirty miles
3) 3) becoming so sunburned that I could neither sleep nor wear enough clothing to go into public.
I'm glad you are always making healthy life choices Liz!!!!! I think this has been your funniest post yet though! I'm glad you got your shirt, and I can't wait to see it!!!!!! Along with you of course :)
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