By day, I’m just like you. I pride myself on exclusively running only when being chased, on consuming more junk food than twice the weight of a small toddler, on claiming that sleeping 12 hours a night is “self-care” and completely necessary. Before you ask, no, I haven’t been to the gym in several months or maybe even years. That’s not even because it’s far from my apartment—it’s just because I don’t want to. And, sure, maybe I’ve even faked a sprained ankle for 7 years straight to get out of the obligatory family camping trip. But, honestly, who hasn’t? See, no one really likes nature unless it’s from a distance or for Instagram. The healthy lifestyle is, for the average person, about as real as the Easter bunny. That is to say, not. Whatsoever. But today that all changes, because I’m eating a Clif bar.
Clif bars are literally designed to turn my shapeless, motivation-less body into that of a pro-athlete with just one bite—it’s basically their entire marketing strategy. This isn’t about the fact that I consistently came in last during Cross Country in high school or that I’ve never driven a Jeep off-road in my life, or even about my severe bee allergy and lack of hiking boots (or sneakers on any kind, actually). This is about my Clif bar. With this single protein-packed, double triple choco-chunk-chip flavored meal supplement, anything is possible.
Thanks to my Clif bar, at this very moment I’ve realized I could be:
–playing recreational frisbee
–modeling in an REI catalog
–going for a hike in the Appalachian mountains with my golden labradoodle
–signing up to be the assistant coach for my imaginary daughter’s little league soccer team
–setting up a tent without even looking at the directions because “I’ve got this covered, honey”
–leading a boy scout troupe on a weekend bonding trip to Maine and/or Nova Scotia
–participating in a triathlon across the United States of America
–digging a hole in the woods to bury my own feces and ward off bears
–assessing a trail map to see what the most efficient way up Machu Pichu might be
–finding myself on a solo-eat-pray-love-style-trip backpacking up the Pacific Crest Trail like Cheryl Strayed
–and/or grabbing my carabiner and propelling my body off the grand canyon with nothing but a single piece of rope and 9 grams of protein
Here’s what I’m trying to say: I am 3 bites into a white chocolate macadamia nut Clif bar so, at this point, I’m pretty sure I’m at least ¾ of the way to becoming Bear Grylls. I have harnessed all of my athletic ability and endurance and sheer human power—and I’m ready to take on the world.
So what is it I’m going to do with my new adventure body? Well, I was going to go for a hike or something, but it is starting to drizzle outside. Also, I get weird sinus reactions to birch trees, and we probably wouldn’t want to aggravate that. Actually, now that you do mention it, I’m not even entirely sure I know what a birch tree is.
You know, I think I’m just going to watch Netflix instead.
This message is in no way affiliated with the makers of the popular nutritional meal replacement, Clif Bar. Like, obviously.