Atomic Sugar Shock
Photo by Heather Leah KennedyI unabashedly love Cadbury CrÃ¨me Eggs. The whole gooey, chocolaty mess enthralls my taste buds, which otherwise shy away from prodigious concentrations of refined sugar. Only Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies (an excellent post-marathon treat) rival CrÃ¨me Eggs as a discipline-smashing guilty pleasure.
Drooling excessively on my keyboard as I write of the Eggâ€™s many indulgent virtues, I dream of the luscious rippling chocolate shell holding its succulent cargo of silky, flowing sweetness. Iâ€™m lost in the moment.
Oh yeah, I eat a lot of CrÃ¨me Eggs.
No longer content to buy one Egg at a time, I purchase them in packs of four. I devour the first, and in the dizzying haze of my newfound sugar high, reach for the second; only to discover an empty box. I never recall eating all four. Is that a bad sign?
The Eggs satisfy my emotionally suspect chocolate urges, but they donâ€™t do much for my training regimen. Have you ever run ten miles through trails fueled only by a handful of CrÃ¨me Eggs? I assure you itâ€™s not a pretty sight.
One Egg provides more carbs than the average (disgusting) Gel pack, but you also get enough fat content to sink a battleship. Based on a 2000 calorie diet, each Egg offers 17% (3.5g) of the Recommended Daily Allowance for saturated fat. I shudder at the prospect of multiplying this by four. But face it; if youâ€™re downing multiple CrÃ¨me Eggs in one sitting, youâ€™ve blown the 2000 calorie diet to smithereens anyway.
What will I do? Maybe I can link my passion for running with my chocolate egg addiction. Perhaps Cadbury will sponsor me in a marathon. Iâ€™ll work the expo, wear a custom singlet, and agree to eat one egg per aid station during the race. Iâ€™d blow through at least a dozen. Thatâ€™s impressive, right?
But there will be repercussions. High sugar concentration slows down stomach emptying, impeding the flow of real fuel to the muscles. That doesnâ€™t bode well for endurance running. More pointedly, the harsh ebb and flow of insulin levels in my bloodstream would make for a spasmodic marathon experience. Iâ€™d drag listlessly into every aid station, down an egg, and zoom out like a Lovey Howell hopped up on sugar beets. Iâ€™m sure mathematicians could predict my rollercoaster sine wave splits based on some complex formula involving VO2 max and sugar calories per Egg.
This could work. But Iâ€™d only be able to train with Eggs a few weeks each year, when the Cadbury Bunny leaves her limited supply at convenience stores across America. And now Easter is over and theyâ€™re gone until next year.
Gone and we are lost! Lost, precious! Losssst!