There are few things in this world that I wouldn’t share. As a matter of fact, I can really off the top of my head only think of two. My goggles being one which I’m sure is a remnant from my lifeguard days after having more than one pair disappear to Goggleland never to return. (You know Goggleland don’t you? It’s a neighboring city to Missing Sockville. Many many lone socks take a one way trip via the dryer to Sockville. Or would that just be my socks?) Whenever someone asks me to borrow my goggles, I can’t help but start to twitch.
The other non-sharable item would be my Helium 4 Fuel Belt. I love that no bounce, no chafing belt. The bottles are the perfect size to hold enough fluids for a half marathon. There’s a little pocket to store my gel. And it’s a sleek black and pink. It’s sweet. I don’t long run without it. And I don’t share it because I don’t want the elastic to get stretched out, or the bottles not to be clean when I need them, or **GULP** a bottle to get lost.
And despite making my non-sharing wishes perfectly clear on more than one occasion to a certain other running someone in my household who shall remain nameless in order to protect his identity, my fuel belt continues to be “borrowed” nonetheless, at least the bottles anyway.
You see the bottles, are 8 oz and a slim design. They’re small so if you happen to have large pockets like say…oh I don’t know…let’s see…my husband. Yep, that’s a good example, if you had large pockets like my husband does in his running shorts, then you could easily slip a bottle in your pocket and run with it.
And furthermore, if you park your car in the middle of the trail you run like, oh wait…that’s right…like my husband does, then you could also put a bottle on top of your van, I mean vehicle, and grab another bottle when you run by. The only problem with this little plan would be if you forgot you had in fact put a bottle on top of your van, er…vehicle, which might be a strong possibility when you’re exhausted at the end of your run and you’ve got yet another stolen, I mean “borrowed” fuel belt bottle.
Sadly, this is the story of what happened to my lonely loyal bottle yesterday, one that served me so well in many a races and was there when I needed it most during some particularly rough patches. Needless to say, I was a little upset. “Well, let me go check and see if it’s still on top of my van,” this certain someone tried to ease my worst fears, as if by some miracle, or perhaps sheer love of owner, my little fuel belt bottle was able to grasp on tightly to the hood and survive not only the slow drive through the park, but the 15 minute EXPRESS WAY DRIVE HOME.
Unfortunately, the little guy could not hang on. I have high hopes he’s moved on to a better place, perhaps filled with some delightful little fru fru drink preferably of the strawberry variety with a little whipped cream on top.
But the nightmare doesn’t end there. The moment I found out my bottle was gone, I headed straight for the computer to order a new one. I had been thinking about upgrading to 10oz bottles anyway, and this, this was my chance, not just for new bottles, but to make good out of bad. Until I discovered one devastating bit of information. The replacement bottles come with red caps, not pink.
And as I wrote in my email to the Fuel Belt people recounting the terrible fate of my bottle (really, I did), ultimately I will survive with a red cap. But every single time I take a drink out of a red capped bottle from my pink fuel belt I will be faced with the horrific reminder of my bottle’s demise, a memory I would soon forget.
So, I patiently wait at the mercy of Fuel Belt to see if just one pink replacement cap is even possible. Money is no object (as long as by “no object” that means about $5 or less. We’re only talking one cap people).
In the meantime, if you happen to notice a pink capped 8oz bottle lying around, you know who to send it to.
P.S. Another reappearance by you know who today on my 15 mile run. He’s getting bolder. Today Turkey Duck was standing right smack in the center of the trail. “It’s my world Runner Girl. You’re just living in it.” He mouthed as he stared at me with that beady little side of his head eyeball as a I ran by. I thought about running right at him to scare him for a minute, but remembered the claws and opted to run off the trail around him instead. Other than his head, he didn’t move a muscle. Stupid thug duck.
P.P.S. Have you joined my Facebook Fan Page yet? Ok I realize it’s not much of a fan page if I have to ask you to join, but I can post short sweet quick things up there, that I can’t do here like a RoadID coupon or when I update the Giveaways. So if you haven’t done it yet, click here for the link.