Red Bull and Lee Corso: Oddly enough, these are the two things that I have come to associate with the Saturday mornings of my youth.
Long before I was aware that consuming unhealthy amounts of caffeine prior to working out was a bad idea, my weekend would start with an 8 a.m. wake up and a couple of cans of liquid speed.
Then it was off for a run, followed by weightlifting with Dad. All of which was painstakingly calculated so that by the time I had showered and sat down for breakfast at exactly 10 a.m. I would be just in time for my rendezvous with the ESPN College GameDay crew.
Then it was a bowl of cereal and two hours of pre-game talk before whatever sub-par Big Ten game happened to be on the schedule that week.
College football Saturdays have always been more of a marathon than a sprint.
It's a test of both mental and physical fortitude. Movement is kept to a minimum. Only the occasional bathroom break and trip to the refrigerator are acceptable journeys.
You suffer through the monotony of the first few games, and then your patience is rewarded with the crescendo of primetime.
By 8 p.m., I had usually worn a sizeable indentation in my mother's couch. But I've never had so much fun doing nothing.
From the time I was about 14 until my sophomore year at UF, this was my routine. Wake up, down enough eight-ounce cans to risk a heart murmur and then take the trip down the rabbit hole.
My circumstances have changed since then. I've traded in a couch for a press pass. But the excitement is still there.
When I roll over and smack the snooze button on my alarm clock Saturday morning, it will be a little less painful then it was today.
I'll fumble around in the dark for a minute, flick on the TV and for the first time in what has come to feel like an eternity, college football will flash across the screen.
And as I stumble down the hall to the shower in an attempt to scrub off the last remnants of Friday night, I suspect the air will taste just a touch sweeter than it did the day before.
My long summer in sports purgatory will finally come to an end.
Lee Corso will be saying good morning from somewhere I've probably never been but wish I could visit. The street outside my house will be littered with tailgaters, coolers and red plastic cups. And the cereal and Red Bull that were the staples of my formative years will probably be replaced by leftover pizza and a beer.
But at least for me, it will be a feeling of familiarity. And I think it's safe to say I'm not the only one.
Whatever crazy, convoluted or bordering on satanic rituals you might go through during you're game-day preparations, enjoy it.
Football is finally back, and at least for the next few months you're not alone.
