Flash forward to a couple of months ago when Botched warns me against my adenosine-inhibiting double-fudge bars (brand name not disclosed). Rats, well there goes my ride energy source. They had been these conveniently small-portion bars that were supposed to supply me with OH so much energy. Or whatever. So it was time to look for a new energy source to fill the tank on my bike.
Conveniently, my local grocery store had a sale on almost all of their energy bars. I could go back to the slightly expensive Snickers Marathon bar, but when you have a weak jaw (like I do), a stiff Marathon Energy bar can wear your mouth muscles out pretty quickly, despite the fact that they’re flippin’ delicious. I could head for the funny-tasting Detour bar, but again this is a whey protein candy bar disguised as being healthy, and just no good for rides. I could try out Luna bars, but aren’t they for women? The last thing I need is some extra-feminine soy combined with folic acid and estrogen (nothing personal against those who possess large quantities of said hormone).
Then suddenly, there was the answer: Clif Bars were down to 60 cents a bar for the special. These famed Clif Bars that I had read all the buzz about over at Fatty’s. The yuppie bars that only rich people could afford. That would give me an opportunity to try out each and every flavor in its cliffy goodness. So I grabbed a variety (“one of these, one of these, one of these, and, oh, two or three of these” just picture a kid in a candy store with Bill Gates’ checkbook) and immediately got to sampling the different recipes: Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Crunch, Cookies and Cream, Chocolate Chip, Chocolate Almond Fudge, Crunchy Peanut Butter, and finally, the ultimate: Chocolate Brownie (No, I didn’t try the raisin ones, what do you take me for? A sicko? Raisins are nasty). I am a little curious as to why they had to distinguish it as Chocolate Brownie. Have you ever really had a brownie that wasn’t made of chocolate? What flavor was it? What did it actually taste like? Just curious.
So I’d found my miracle bar. Phew! Close one. I stocked up a week’s supply—10 bars or so—and then found myself eating them at every juncture. Skipped breakfast? Eat a Clif Bar in the car on the way to work. No time for lunch? No problem; I have a Clif Bar in my bag. Need something to reward yourself with after climbing a steep hill? Yep, Clif Bar. Haven’t eaten in six hours and won’t be eating for two more because your wife is going to teach a water aerobics class with a bunch of other pregnant ladies? Relax, have a Clif Bar.
This was all well and good, but then something happened that ruined my bliss … the sale ended. Suddenly these Clif Bars were all costing … $1.49 each. What the heck? Who pays a buck-fitty for an athletic bar? Well, I had for a 15-grams-of-protein bar in the past, but this isn’t a musclehead bar, this is an oatmeal bar. I mean, really, these people are trying to compete with the Quakers, or at least their oats, they’ve got to be pricing more economically than that. So I bought two bars, and I started stewing. Until I had a brilliant idea … WalMart. Oh yes, they will be mine.
So I marched proudly into WalMart, ready to receive my expensive product for a lower cost. I probably looked like all of the other weirdos in WalMart until I got to the Clif Bar shelf and discovered that my favorite flavor isn’t available at the cheaper price. Then I looked even weirder. And in the end, I settled. I went for Chocolate Chip Peanut Crunch, and I even found it in the six-bar pack for $5.50 (that means I’m down to 90 cents a bar—not too bad). And yes, I’m back to eating them four times a day. I just hope I have some leftover for my next ride.