It’s October 5th, 2016. I look down on New York City from my 12th floor Hudson Yards office… My mind is thinking about one thing and one thing only – winning the fucking title.
I promised to keep you abreast (tehehe) with my training regiment as we near the biggest day in competitive eating (yeah, I said it Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest!), so here we are.
There’s some good, some bad and some ugly with my preparation this year.
We’ll start with “The Good”… Since moving to Hoboken, I’ve had to take some drastic measures to ensure my dog doesn’t bark ALL GODDAMN DAY LONG when I leave for work. SOOOO, my strategy has been to run that bitch in the morning, so she’s tired all day and will shut the fuck up. Now, why is that a good thing for the eating competition? Well Johnny WCS Reader, now that I’m running, I’m eating a shit ton. Like, last night for example, I’m fairly confident I ate what an entire Asian family would eat as far as rice goes, and that’s not even mentioning the chicken and spinach I had as well #balanced. So I’d say Monday through Friday, my training is pretty #onfleek and if weekends didn’t exist, the title would easily be mine… Which brings me to “The Bad” and “The Ugly” – which really are one in the same but if you want to sit here and knit-pick, you can kick rocks ya herb.
“The Bad” and “The Ugly” are probably the most confusing to people but weekend boozing is 100% my downfall. It starts bad and it gets ugly… What happens is this: Friday, work ends and obviously I tell myself I deserve 100 beers because I worked so hard (“omg so fucking HARD”) this week… By doing this, my dumb ass is VERY likely to skip dinner, or at the very best, eat a meager meal on the side of said 100 beers. Then, because I didn’t eat enough, I’m hungover as balls on Saturday – preventing breakfast and possibly parlaying into having to skip lunch. THEN, as we all know – “Saturday’s are for the Boys” hits and Taylor is back on the wagon. THIS IS “THE UGLY”. Daddy drinks another 100 beers, MAYBE has a small dinner and then Sunday comes… And, as is customary on NFL Sunday, Taylor has 100 beers and the brutal weekend cycle continues until work breaks it all on Monday.
Does this mean I have a “problem“? Does this mean I should get it “checked out“? Would my mother be “proud of my actions“? Am I “worried“? Do I know what this is “doing to my body“? When am I going to “grow up“? Do you realize you’re not “in college anymore“?
To be honest folks, this is where a savage like me just rallies on. I like to think that I arise to competition DESPITE all these challenges. And that is how legends are made.
7 Weeks to Glory,
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