Breakfast of Champions

As a man ages he discovers that his appetites change.  In his younger days he drank a cup of coffee before bolting to the office, but now that he requires fewer calories to function he has an insatiable pull for bacon and eggs.  This change may have something to do with the fact that his wife's egg production is drawing to a close and he feels the urge to keep the incubation process forging ahead.  Or it could be due to his station of life, when he throws caution to the wind and realizes that eggs aren't all they're cracked up to be.  They might even be good for him.

I only know I've dramatically increased my egg consumption in the past year.  A few weeks ago, I even had three breakfasts in one morning.  First, I had coffee and boiled eggs at home before heading off to the gym to groan under tons of weight and torture my arthritic shoulders, and then off to a second breakfast and book study where I had oatmeal and coffee.  An hour later (and sticking to the same booth in the same restaurant) I met a friend for a third breakfast and a plate of three scrambled with bacon.

Most men have stories to tell about ancient grandfathers who daily consumed massive breakfasts consisting of eggs, bacon, biscuits, pancakes, and sausage gravy. And look, we say, these men lived to be a hundred! That's true, but they probably burned those calories before 9 a.m. and rose at 4 a.m. to eat that first meal.

That's one of the reasons I rise early.  Better to get a jump on the calorie burn.  But an hour on the stairmaster at 5 a.m. is superior to my grandfather's horse-and-buggy mornings as I see it.  I'll eat all the eggs I want.  And when I was younger, I used to crack 'em and swallow 'em whole . . . raw.  Believe me, eggs go down easy uncooked. But with the profusion of salmonella, not a good idea any more, fellas.  

What a breakfast brings to an older man is an enjoyment of life.  Especially if there is conversation.  Maybe even love.

Most Saturday mornings my wife and I rise as early as our energies will allow.  We brew coffee, fix eggs, and spend time together reviewing the week and dreaming dreams before the children even attempt to get out of bed.  A breakfast I cherish every week.  Championship caliber.  And she doesn't mind my egg consumption.  She knows I'm going through manopause.