Shared by the wellness coordinator at work...
By Anthony Ryan
Children's Digest, December 1, 1996
At the North Pole, there arose such a clatter, for it seemed that Saint Nick had grown even fatter. "Where are my weights, my jump rope, and my bike? If I could find my snow boots, I'd go for a hike."
Since the last Christmas, Santa had eaten too much. He had gulped down cream soda, eaten cookies, and such. The reindeer didn't think they could pull all that weight, so they called a team meeting and said "Don't be late”!
"We have to inform you that we'll go on strike if you don't start running or riding your bike. You've gotten too, big, too much of a load. If we try to pull you, our hearts will explode”.
"We'll give you `til Christmas to lose the last pound. And then, only then, will your sled leave the ground." Santa walked from the room, his face full of worry. "I've got to get into shape, and I've got to hurry."
So from then on, Santa rode, skied, and hiked. He passed on desserts and found vegetables he liked. He lost all the weight and was fit as a fiddle. Christmas Eve was approaching, so there was no time to diddle.
The elves loaded the sled, and Santa flew at top speed. Their plan had worked, all the reindeer agreed. They were dazzled with Santa's running and throwing, he filled every stocking and just kept on going!
As Santa slid down the last chimney that night, he emptied his bag and reflected on his plight. Jolly Ol' St. Nick had almost lost his job for letting his body turn into a gelatinous glob.
Who would have filled his shoes had he not gotten fit? The thought of such nonsense made him feel like a twit. For the key, he knows now, is to stay active and eat right. "Merry Christmas!" he bellowed, "And to all a good night."