Honeycomb Cereal

For some reason, back in 1998, I decided it would be a good idea to walk the Chicago Marathon. (Actually, it was my sister’s idea. I just decided to tag along. Full details of this adventure can be found in a certain book I wrote.) For now what’s important is the Honeycomb Cereal.

And what does Honeycomb have to do with marathon training, you might ask? Well, as it turns out, everything.

My training schedule called for endurance build-up workouts on Saturdays. This meant each week I had to walk about twice as many miles as the previous week: 8, 16, 32, 64, …, all the way up to 32,768 miles on that final week of training. At least that’s what it felt like. The days were long and difficult, especially for someone who’d never done anything like this (and more or less just decided it would be ‘fun’ at the proverbial last minute).

Stumbling into my house after a seventeen mile walk on a hot summer morning, I would always find myself oddly hungry. I have no idea why. Since I always left early in the morning, typically before sun-up, it was always high time for breakfast when I returned, no matter what the actual time of day was. And that’s where the Honeycomb comes in.

I’d pour myself a big bowl of it, top it with fresh strawberries and cold milk, and eat, eat, eat. Boy they were good! Even better than after a 26-hour fast, I would say. So good I would typically eat a second or even third serving. (Never mind that each “serving” was technically two servings already.)

“I’m training!” I’d tell myself. “It’s okay, I can eat all I want!”

Now that’s the kind of rationale that causes one to barely shed a pound during the most physically active six months of one’s entire life.

But it tasted so good and I was so worn out after those long walks. And that’s probably why I still really like Honeycomb today. It didn’t help me lose any weight, but it helped me walk 26.2 miles one day.

You know what’s the best part about Honeycomb, though? It’s the jingle. It’s absolutely brilliant. I can see the people at the ad agency sitting around a conference room table, trying to brainstorm. The group leader is asking them, “What is Honeycomb? What are we trying to capture? C’mon people, let’s have it. There are no bad ideas! Describe Honeycomb!” After a minute or two of uncomfortable silence, one guy sheepishly raises his hand, “Um … it’s big?” “Good! Good!” says the leader. “Can anyone else think of anything…?” Another minute passes, when someone proposes, “Um … it’s not small?” “Excellent, people! This is great stuff.”

And so it was born.

Honeycomb’s big.
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
It’s not small!
No, no, no!

Silly though it may be, it must work. I mean I sure feel like running to the store and replenishing my supplies.