It begins, as so many things do, with Lola and Noggy’s inability to take even the smallest action without turning it into a quest, a quest inevitably deteriorating into a comedy of errors. And if you’re worried, you should be, but know that this boondoggle ends happily.
In all fairness this particular quest wasn’t their idea, but rather part of a summer scavenger hunt put on by some fun-loving race organizers after covid-19 forced a blanket cancellation of all the season’s ultra-running events. Thirty or so running challenges, and a badge for each one completed. Fun stuff like 2000 stairs, a sunrise run, running in loops, and saying something nice to every goddamned menace on a bike you see during your run. That kind of thing.
(By the way, this review is a TL:DR internet recipe. Scroll to the end if what we thought of the fucking milkshake means that much to you.)
Anyway, on this day Lola and Noggy had their sights set on the “Run for Food” badge. Basically what it sounds like. You run directly to obtain food. Their choice of sustenance was, no surprise, the much-maligned Arby’s.
But first, the run. Here’s the thing about these knuckleheads, they can never just “go to Arby’s”. No, those beef ‘n cheddars must be paid for in suffering. It has to be “get lost in a blizzard, wandering until Arby’s reveals itself like a celestial mirage” or “run 50km in February and stagger into the fancy Arby’s like smelly arctic explorers” or in this case “an easy 10km and then dive face first into the horsey sauce.” Simple, right?
You know where this is going…
Lola: I found a new trail!
(wading through waist high wet grass)
Noggy: This isn’t a trail and my feet are soaked.
Lola: You said you wanted an adventure. It’s the trail less traveled.
Noggy: Again, not a trail
(wading through waist high wet thistles)
Lola: Hmm, I’m sure this connects with the main path somewhere.
Noggy: How, genius? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re on the wrong side of the creek.
Lola: Right…no problem, we can just crawl over these boulders and…Nog?
Lola: Ouch, that is some blood.
Noggy: I hate you.
(several kilometres later)
Lola: [rips off her sunglasses, screaming]
Noggy: Jesus, what?
Lola: [incoherently babbles, clutching the side of her face]
Noggy: Use your words, Silkysocks.
Lola: A wasp stung me twice in the brain. Am I going to die?
Noggy: [inspects Lola’s swelling temple] Definitely scarred for life. Come on, let’s get some curly fries.
Our intrepid dimwits, with their fancy gps watches, cannot navigate themselves out of a wet paper bag and end up running closer to 16km before the semi-iconic ten-gallon Arby’s hat comes into view. They stagger into the parking lot, scraped and inflamed, spirits buoyed by visions of meatcraft, and in this way their “Run for Food” attempt is foiled, ironically, by three Corona-fuelled words…
Drive Thru Only
Anyway, the Arby’s orange milkshake is not at all terrible. You should try it.