QUESTION: What's worse than waking up early Saturday morning and running four miles?
ANSWER: Waking up early Saturday morning, running four miles and devouring a dozen donuts.
As unappetizing as that might sound, I-along with 3,032 other people-attempted such a feat by participating in the fifth annual Krispy Kreme Challenge. The event, held at North Carolina State University Feb. 7, raised more than $20,000 for the North Carolina Children's Hospital.
Although some may have been drawn to the event by the charitable cause, I was motivated simply by the challenge-to finish running two miles, scarfing down 12 donuts and running two more miles all within an hour.
By any athletic standard, downing a dozen donuts while running four miles would not be considered a true challenge.
True athletic challenges include: Tiger Woods winning the U.S. Open with a torn ACL; Michael Jordan scoring 38 points in the NBA Finals while fighting the flu; and Lance Armstrong claiming the Tour de France after battling back from cancer.
But because I'm flat-footed and lack even an iota of coordination, true athletic challenges are beyond my reach. Fortunately, I accepted this fact sometime around the seventh grade and learned to settle for fake athletic challenges instead.
Among my proudest accomplishments: competing in a 14-person beer relay; playing the Duke-UNC basketball marathon intoxicated at 4 a.m.; and now attempting the Krispy Kreme Challenge.
Although many might condemn my "challenges" for being immature and reckless expressions of a 22-year-old boy, fake athletic challenges are very much a part of our culture.
For instance, every Fourth of July, thousands gather in Coney Island, N.Y., to witness the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest, featuring the world's two premier hot dog eaters, Joey Chestnut and Takeru Kobayashi. In less than 10 minutes, Chestnut and Kobayashi eat approximately 60 hot dogs apiece, while spectators cheer them on as if they were watching Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal at Wimbledon.
Realistically, no one should derive any satisfaction from participating in-or watching-any event that is doomed to end with piles and piles of puke. But despite the likelihood of vomiting sugarcoated projectiles, many like me laced up their running shoes for the Krispy Kreme Challenge.
Why did we do it?
The challenge.
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