Dear Junk Food

Dear Junk Food,

I've been meaning to talk to you for about four weeks now. And it's just got to the point where I can't take it anymore. I have to let this off my chest or I'll be banished from the CrossFit Community forever. I've been thinking about the best way to start this off, and so I'd write a few lines, scribble it out, write a few more lines, scribble them out, and then it occurred to me: it doesn’t really matter how I start this as I'm just going to let my fingers flow on the keyboard – this way, I know that anything I write is just going to come straight from my heart. So here goes.

I feel like I don't even know you anymore. You've lied to me. You've betrayed my trust and you've drained me of energy. When we first met after the 24hour, you promised me that we’d have such a good time celebrating making 100miles my bitch. It started off so well. You introduced me to your friends, and I introduced you to my friends (who all seemed to like you, apart from Gareth, but don’t worry, he’s a bit of a hater like that) and they seemed to really take a liking to you. On weekends (and weekdays for that matter), we skipped and danced and held hands, smiling and giggling like school girls under a golden summer sun. Then at night time, we'd cuddle up on the couch and watch movies together - P.S. I love you, The Little Mermaid, Pretty Women and The Lion King to name a few (we even got through a few of those XXX movies up in the top of my wardrobe - hehe we were so cheeky).

But now you've changed. The damage of your dangerously fast love affair has taken its toll. I've become lazy, party-going, low on energy and pretty squishy around the mid-section to be frank. Each time we’ve embraced it’s been so incredible good – for about the time that it lasts. And then, after the ‘climax’, so to speak, I just feel so empty and lonely and abused. People kept telling me that something that good and intense isn’t meant to last but I gave you the benefit of the doubt and didn’t listen to them. I wanted us to work. I really did. But I realize now that I barely even knew you before.

So I’m leaving you. I’ve found someone else. He’s called Paleo Diet (don’t hate on the name, he’s Italian). He’s leaner, meaner, gives me more energy and gives me a sense of LONG LASTING satisfaction. These are things that you just can’t provide me with anymore...if ever! So I just need time to get over you until after the next Ultra-Event in late February. It’d be good to catch up with you soon though for a coffee. Actually, nah. Who am I kidding? It wouldn’t. It’d just be really awkward. It’d kind of be like this:

(Awkward ‘Hello hug’)
Nick: “Soooo.....Junk Food, what you been up to?”

Junk Food: “Oh you know, just f*cking other people over with my empty promises”

Nick: (Awkward pause....) “Oh, still into that aye?”

Junk Food: “Yeah”

Nick: (Another awkward pause....)“Oh. So, um, how’s your Mum and Dad?”

Junk Food: “Fat, low on energy, heading for a whole heap of later-in-life diseases that will catch up with them sooner or later – but other than that, they’re good aye”

Nick: (Awkward pause that makes Nick sweat...) “Oh. Um, well I better get going. I have this, um, appointment to get to”

Junk Food: “Oh, but it’s 2pm on a Sunday...who has appointments then?”

Nick: “Oh it’s one of those, like, 2pm Sunday appointments. You know the ones? That are on Sunday? At 2pm? At that place? With those people? Yeah, those ones. Anyway, nice to see you”

Junk Food: “Yeah. You too. We’ll catch up aye?”

Nick: “Um, yeah, I’ll txt you. The cheque is also in the mail and the dog ate my homework. Bye!”

See what I mean Junk Food? That’s how that shit would go down. Not well. So I’ll get back in touch after late-February and maybe we’ll have another little fling to celebrate ticking the box of another Ultra-Endurance Slug Fest. But until then, I need time. I’m sure you do too. I love you, but I have to let you go. I’ll always remember, and regret, the good times that we had together. And whenever I watch The Lion King and hear the wind blow over Mufasa’s kingdom, just know that it will always whisper your name to me.

With love and luck,
Nick Linton
P.S. You can take your empty promises and shove them up your arse. And you know what? You can also take that (close to) $200 I've spent on you and shove THAT up your arse – ONE – DOLLAR – AT – A – TIME! BAM!

You tell him whose boss Nick

You know it! Although I do miss watching The Little Mermaid with him.....it's the little things that remind you of an old flame. But alas, I must move on.