I just read the sad news that Tiger Woods will no longer have free access to his GM vehicles. Just like the rest of us, he'll now have to pay for his cars.
Aside from the irony that is the richest athlete in the world not having had to pay for his own cars for some time, this brings me to a favorite issue of mine: why I don't have an athletic sponsorship.
Ha ha!, you say. Tracy, that is crazy talk! But... think about it. Meb wears his Nikes for just over two brief hours of the marathon. I wear my Asics for 4+ or 5+ (ahem, or in one bad instance, 6+) hours of exposure. A hella lot of spectators see me going by in my gear. But I've had to pay for that gear.
I did see those people with the coconut water at the NYCM expo trying to recruit people to wear something that looked like a porta-potty, but that I guess was supposed to represent the juicebox that the water comes in. I thought about it. But, alas, I wasn't registered for NYCM and I think coconut water is totally gross.
I will dress like a bottle of Rolling Rock for a year's supply. I will dress like a can of Limonata for a year's supply. Hell, I would probably dress like an Edy's Whole Fruit Bar if you promise you'll have a lime one waiting for me, unmelted, at the end of the race.
Failing that, maybe I'll try writing to Dunkin' Donuts ("America Runs on Dunkin'!"). I am what you look like when you try to run on Dunkin'. It's not pretty, but I'm happy to rep your brand for free donuts.
My price is low, and I am for sale! (I also have more room for advertising on my body - that Meb is tiny!)
On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"