Just for a moment let’s pretend.

Come on now, I know you can do it. You’ve been pretending all semester that you have been keeping up on your reading; you can pretend for the next few paragraphs of this column.

Let’s pretend we are a few years down the road, and it is time for one of the biggest track and field events in the world. It’s the Drake Relays, an athletic event that creates memories, dreams and fears for many different competitors and fans — memories of what competing was like when you were in high school, dreams of how far your talent will go and fears of missing your race due to the long bathroom lines. At the Drake Relays you have the privilege of watching a wide spectrum of athletes ranging from high school standouts to collegiate and university champions, to world class runners who have even donned the warmup suits of USA’s Olympic team.

This year, however, (time to start pretending) there is a new category for track and field enthusiasts to watch at the relays. They call it the “natural” category — often shortening that to “N”, and it includes all the athletes who are still refusing to take any performance-enhancing substances. Fans and other athletes watch these competitors with that slightly amused and condescending attitude that is similar to what one gets while watching someone try to mow her or his lawn with an old-fashioned grass cutter or struggle with an old typewriter. People often joke that the “N” stands for “numb skull,” since they obviously are not smart enough to do what is best for them. The crowd wonders when they will wise up and get with the program. Why can’t they just be like the rest of the world?

The “N” competitors are good athletes; there is no question of that. They all work just as hard in practice and sweat it out in the weight room just as often as the other participants on the track. “Why do they need their own category?” you might ask. It seems (remember, we’re still pretending) that the use of substances to enhance athletic performances has become so prevalent that if one doesn’t use something, one is at a distinct disadvantage that cannot be made up for in any other way.

Today, Creatine — a nutritional supplement (not a drug, mind you) — has become quite popular among strength and power athletes. Creatine can be found naturally in raw meat and fish, and to put it it layman’s terms, it regenerates your adenosine triphosphate (ATP). I think the term layman comes from the phrase, “Lay that on me again, man, because I sure as heck didn’t understand it the first time.” Creatine basically gives your muscles the energy they need to contract without making them as tired. Hence, you perform better. It also helps with lactic acid buildup when you are exercising intensely. These sound like good things, don’t they? There is nothing wrong with not wanting to be dead tired after workouts.

What is wrong is athletes’ growing dependence on supplements like Creatine. While these substances may be fine and dandy and not hurting anyone, they get their foot in the door for being deemed acceptable. Once that door is opened a crack, other substances, which may not be so helpful, can sneak in. Athletes shouldn’t have to depend on a “nutritional supplement” to get them through a workout or a race.

A race shouldn’t depend on who remembered to take their Creatine that morning. What should be rarely is, however, and the more prominent these substances become, the closer we come to the little scenario we imagined earlier.

Goodbye Wheaties, breakfast of champions. Hello Creatine, medicine cabinet of medal-winners.

Joanne Roepke is a junior in journalism and mass communication from Aurora.