The U.S. Public Health Service Dietitian/Nutritionist Professional Advisory Committee (D/N-PAC) is taking the opportunity to share some laughter and good cheer with this adaptation of 'Twas the night before Christmas, a poem originally attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, but now thought to be the work of Major Henry Livingston, Jr. (1748-1828) [Source: The Toronto Library].

We wish you and your families “Happy and Healthy Holidays!”

’Twas the Night Before...the APFT

'Twas the night before testing, when all through the place, Not a person was running, not even for chase. My old socks were stuffed in my sneakers with care, In hopes that the APFT would not near.

Co-workers were nestled all snug in their chairs, Giving sly peeks, stifled giggles, and blank stares. My “buddy” in his leggings, and I in my shorts, Had just settled that I was not built for such sports --

When in front of the building, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a crow, Pushed away the curtains, and stared out the window. The sun on the frost that had formed all anew, Reminded me that I didn’t have the right shoes!

When, what to my exhausted eyes should appear, But our testing official, and his wicked wry sneer. With a T-shirt and no coat, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment, he must be quite sick.

More rapid than eagles his cursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and taunted by name: "Now! Slacker, now! Slowpoke, now! Drooper, and Chicken, "On! Runner, on! Sprinter, on! Swifter and Quicken; "To the top of the hill! to the old White Flint Mall! "Now run away! run away! run away all!"

Like wet leaves sticking to driveways and gutters, I looked at my partner, with tears and some stutters. So down to the lobby we beleagueredly went, By elevator of course—we were already too spent!

And then in an instant, I heard through the door “1.5 is too short, why I’ll make them run four!” As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the street our rating “coach” came with a bound.

He was dressed in Goretex, from his head to his feet, And his clothes were all matching with creases pressed neat. A bag of water was flung on his back, And he looked like a marathoner leading the pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry, His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, As he smirked “I only wished there was sleet, no—make it SNOW!”

The tip of a whistle he held tight in his teeth, His breath in the cold, why it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face, and a six-packed belly That looked nothing like ours…bowls full of jelly!

He was chiseled and lean, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread!

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And checked all the dials; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger on the one labeled “Start” And giving a nod, he took off like a dart.

He sprung to his toes, to his “team” gave a whistle, And away we all ran—with two of us giving bristle: But I heard him exclaim, ere he ran far out of sight – Passing this year, why yes--I believe you just might!

This article will also be accessible from the USPHS Dietitians and Nutritionists Category Web site http://www.cfsan.fda.gov/~phsnutr/phsnutr.html. If you have healthy lifestyle related topics of interest that you would like to learn more about in future articles, contact CDR Jean Makie, Chair, D/N-PAC, at makiej@cder.fda.gov.

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