Since joining the gym it's been hard to feel the burn when my clothes don't have an attitude. Target brand shirt, Umbros I've had since 1993, black socks and whatever pair of shoes that have the least amount of dog poo on them. I need a gym look, an awesome gym look, so I wrote to one of my favorite companies... Puma.
The other day I was at the gym whaling on my quads and attempting to work off three-quarters of an ice-cream cake. The onslaught of chocolate syrup burps and sudden mouths sweats let me know that my body was working furiously to purge itself of the unnecessary, but delicious sugars. Everything seemed to be in order; it was just another Saturday, until I started to run.
I was moving at a pretty nice clip. Not too fast, not too slow, I was in my wheelhouse! My heart rate was holding at a steady 162 and I could hear the toxins screaming as they left my vessel. After a mile, the track was filled and I was in a position to showcase my agility. Left then right, across my body and into a spin without ever losing cadence. I imagined I looked like a slightly older, less attractive more robust version of Justin Bieber, dancing to a remix of Billy Ocean’s classic “Caribbean Queen.” I was marvelous, or so I thought. A few steps later it happened. I tripped, or was tripped. Either way I believe it was destiny, because as I tumbled across the hard rubber-ish surface I saw him. The shoes, the pants, the precision of his ensemble, it was an assassination on my senses. Like an old family friend calling me back to the neighborhood of my youth, I watched from ground level as he sidestepped my face and continued running past me in all his glory. He was magnificent! After getting back to my feet I sought out the gym’s coolest guy. Next to the water fountain he stood, pulling off the look I wish I had. The classic running shoes, the classic track suit, it was a harmony of awesomeness. I looked down at my feet and grimaced. From head to toe I was a mismatched mess of big-box brand clothing. I was the opposite of Awesome Puma Man. I stared and wondered how much would it cost to look this put-together. My head knew, but my heart refused to let go of this vision, it was hard… reality is hard. I’m nothing more than a stay-at-home-dad with little to no income, who has suddenly found himself living vicariously through a man who's dressed like the lethal combination of a young Lee Majors and an old Italian hit-man (pinky ring not included). This is a look out of my price range, I’ve accepted that. Then minutes later I had an outrageous idea…
What if I was to write you a letter (the one you are currently reading) post it to my blog (can you say 300 followers?) and allow Puma to be the official shoe/athletic gear of me and my blog: Life Between Naps? This would of course be EPIC! The problem is the money-dough-cash, I have none. This leaves me with only one option... Ask the most outrageous question you are likely to hear all day. Here it goes… Will you Puma, send me a classic track star look for… (crossing my toes) Free? I understand how unorthodox this might seem and you have every right to say no, but what if? What if sometimes, all you have to do is ask? In that case, “Yes” is a very real possibility. This is a very confusing letter. Don't think too much, don't ask, "Who is this guy?" The better question is, "Why us?" The answer is simple, Puma is awesome and I believe in Puma. Puma! Puma! Puma! With a very small gesture you can directly affect change (in look and attitude). It say’s that sometimes it about heart and creativity. My shoe size is 11. Anyway, that’s my pitch. I hope this letter find you well and having an extraordinary spring.
Thank you in advance for any consideration you’ve given to this outlandish request,