You Care!

I think care packages are the best gifts of all. They're usually unexpected and land on your doorstep by surprise at just the moment you need a pick-me-up. And if you're me, you tear into them before you make it through the door, tripping on your coat and nearly slicing your finger off with the scissors.

This one I received yesterday rocked . . . even with the University of Utah T-shirt (blasphemy!) My good friend thought it'd give me a chuckle. But I laughed harder at all the "serious athlete" stuff she sent like IcyHot and Gatorade in anticipation of my little 8K Turkey Trot tomorrow. This friend used to run marathons, so a measly five miles hardly requires a full-night's rest, let alone blister patches and high-tech socks.

And here I'd been thinking about ditching out on the trot altogether - it's too cold and I haven't felt well lately. I'll feel guilty if I wimpy out now, though. But there will be very little trotting, I fear. Sauntering, maybe.

She also sent the makings of her magic candy mix - to which I am hopelessly addicted. Equal parts gummi bear, sour patch kid and swedish fish.

I imagine the idea was to eat the candy in celebration of a Turkey Trot well done and calories well burned. Unfortunately that kind of restraint is not in my genes.