Cross-Training Days: The Story of a Honey Bun

I know I had seen the packaging before, from my grocery days, in the snack isle:

Around these parts, those who find themselves with a hankering for something sweet will, as they say, run to the store, and get themselves a honey bun.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), James - not I - overheard the following conversation between middle-aged men working on the machines next to him.
.....

Guy 1: What you been drinkin'?

Guy 2: Some brew. Some brew and some vodka.

Guy 1: Yeah, I been drinking some brew, too.

Guy 2: Yeah, I got a new job, so no more smokin' but I been drinkin' some brew. <rubs abdomen, pats side> I've been trying to watch what I'm doing though, trying to watch what I'm eating, you know?

Guy 1: I know.

Guy 2: Yeah, it's hard though, man. I be at work in the morning, eating a honey bun, and man, I keep eating a honey bun, and next thing I know I've lost track of how many I've eaten.

Guy 1: Ain't that the truth.

.....

Say what?!

I applaud the man for making it to the gym. Last I checked one honey bun had enough sugar and carbs to jack you up proper; I have to imagine the consumption of several would be enough to send a middle-aged man of some girth spiraling into sugar-induced food coma.

I've not yet tasted one, but something tells me if I ever aspire to run a marathon, I should plan to have someone meet me at mile 18 with one.

Cross-training: good for the body, great for the stories.