Becoming a runner usually leads one through the search for the Holy Snail or whatever food of the month is purported to bring you greater speed, endurance or ability to recall split times.

Chinese women stars were known to devour a particular type of worm which I've yet to find available from aid stations at local races. Japan's Naoko Takahashi claimed a drink based on stomach acids of killer hornets was "a crucial factor" in helping her win the women's 2000 Olympic Marathon. I don't have the "stomach" to trap giant hornets and do surgery on their intestinal tracts, I guess.

Water used to be the only thing provided during races. Runners now choose from various sport drinks, fuel gels, fruit, bagels, cookies, etc. at aid stations that are coming to look like mini-marts or restaurants. I'm waiting to hear someone yell at the mile-19 station, "Hey, runner #1298, your raspberry-kiwi yogurt smoothie is ready. You want chips with that?" I'd read about Bill Rodgers' affinity for 4 a.m. mayonnaise raids on his refrigerator as well as a winner of the South African Comrades ultra consuming marshmallow creme as his pre-race meal. In the search for greater endurance, I gave something similar a whirl. I went for the Miracle Whip and Rice Krispie Treats sandwiches, but they didn't generate more stamina -- just sticky fingers and gastric reflux.

I continued to experiment and began prodding my children to jump aboard the wheat germ and sprouts bandwagon as I spooned bee pollen over their Cheerios. I viewed one of my parental duties as a kind of Svengali nutritionist and appointed myself Chief Deputy of Diet. I figured I'd mold my kids' eating habits and we'd soon be all be scarfing down chunks of wheat gluten and sucking on ginger cubes.

Guess again, Macrobiotic Man! Welcome to the real world of a kid's penchant for strawberry-flavored milk and glow-in-the-dark macaroni and cheese.

While I'd been drinking down the kefir and dusting spirulina powder on my artichoke salad, I'd tried to bring my children along for the ride on the race truck of nourishment. But as I attempted to shake the fabric of their bon-bon world, they preferred living in a Willie Wonka biosphere. They marched to the sound of their own candy wrappers, cruising down Rocky Road into Loompaland.

I realized my children had their own internal calling and the words they were hearing weren't broccoli and tofu. While I viewed my running body as a temple, they viewed theirs as party central. I looked for the health store with whole-wheat pasta, carrot juice and quinoa grain; they were after the Dairy Queen, Nestle's Quick and Frosted Pop Tarts. The Nutrition Gap stood between us.

Oh sure, my wife and I were pretty much in charge of what our children ate at home, but it was that junk-food world on the other side of the training table that garnered our concern. The world of little-league snacks of double-fudge brownies and ice cream at 9:30 Saturday morning.

When my children began to show a desire to join me at weekend races, I was ecstatic. I figured the running bug was biting them, and, in addition to improving their cardiovascular systems, they'd soon be joining me for pre-race bowls of wheat flakes and crispy whole flaxseed. Wrong again, cauliflower brain!

My excitement was dashed by the realization that it wasn't the allure of the race, the camaraderie of the running community, or even the free t- shirts that kept my kids coming back. It was the abundant supply of donuts, cookies and one-percent fruit drinks offered after races. I was their round-trip ticket to a free, all-you-can-eat buffet of sugar-filled morning snacks.

They were using me big time. I never had to drive them home from races, as their elevated body sugars gave them such a hyperactive hallucinogenic state that they preferred running alongside the car instead.

After having tried unsuccessfully to sneak brewer's yeast onto their Cheetos and brussel sprouts into their fluorescent Spaghettios, I was forced to concede that my children ranked food strictly by the pleasure principle. Saturated fats and cholesterol levels weren't high on their list of immediate concerns. The more nutritionally-bankrupt something was, the more they enjoyed it. They operated under the law of sugar and demand.

Something finally dawned on me as I continued to see my children hit the ground at a full sprint in the morning and go non-stop until they hit the pillow at night. I realized this was all on a diet fueled less by polenta and more by popsicles. I began to wonder whether my devotion to celery juice and pomegranates was actually translating into better race times and more energy.

In trying to capture more of my children's stamina and speed, I looked at their diets and concluded the following (sung to the tune of "This Old Man") was clear:

This little boy,

He's turned one.

He tasted ice cream on his thumb.

He's now asking for a triple-scoop cone,

And wishing Candyland were his home.

This little boy,

He's turned two.

He loves going to the zoo.

It's not the elephants that bring him glee.

It's the zoo's Slurpees and cotton candy.

This small child,

He's turned three.

He wants sweet things constantly.

He zooms around like a Tasmanian-devil clone,

Beware, this child's entered the Sugar Zone.

This big boy,

He's turned four.

He loves cookies, begs for more.

"What's for dessert?" is his constant refrain.

Three innocent words I've come to dis dain.

This growing boy,

He's turned five.

Pleads he needs sugar to stay alive.

I thought rice and veggies would do just fine.

He claims donuts are his lifeline.

This little man,

He's turned six. For breakfast he needs his sucrose fix.

`Cereal with green marshmallows is quite the sight,

He claims it's vitamin-fortified so it's all right.

This old dad,

Just back from a slow run.

He wants half the energy of his son.

Is it all the sweets that make him go?

Could be -- so pass me some of that cookie dough.

This running man,

Almost 40 and a master,

Still searching for ways that he can get faster.

I realized food moderation might be the key,

I'm now having chocolate eclairs with my green tea.

Now don't get me wrong. I still value good nutrition and continue to wash my glucosamine-complex sulfate tablets down with beet juice, drink my ginseng and continue to search for a magic potion. But now and then, I do substitute Cocoa Puffs for my carotenes and tater tots for my turnip greens.

Most importantly, I can still eat more Twinkies at one sitting than my children. That's even more impressive to them than my best marathon time.

Excerpted by permission from "I Run, Therefore I Am -- Nuts!" by Bob Schwartz. Copyright (c) 2001 by Human Kinetics Publishers, Inc. Available at bookstores, Amazon.com, humankinetics.com or 1-800- 747-4457. MR