When I used to do triathlons for fun I’d go for a 5 mile run on Sunday mornings after which I’d stop and get a baguette from La Boulangerie and eat the entire thing with a stick of butter while I read the paper. I weighed 30 pounds less though, and it didn’t seem quite as obscene as it does today.
But imagine. My french bread is way better than La Bou’s (as we used to call it) and I’ve made my own butter and that shit is waaaaaay better than anything you can get commercially. So eating the better part of a baguette with butter for my Easter dinner just seemed unavoidable. And it was certainly worth the calories. Who cares if I have to staple a piece of rope onto my belt so I can keep my pants up.