So, I've been training for this marathon-thingy for a few weeks, thinking - as you do - that I never put in this much training before, and I've always been okay, but neglecting to consider the fact that the first marathon was something like 14 years ago, and while that's not very much time in geological terms, in the life of someone who, given a choice, would be a completely sedentary being, it's actually time for quite a few changes to take place.
Atrophy of the sense of humor, for one, and also a tendency to run-on sentences (looking back at that first sentence makes me cringe, but I'll leave the words as they are to lend an air of authenticity and a stream-of-consciousness sort of Faulkenerian...damn, doing it again).
Two weeks ago, when a pipe burst under the sink, causing water to spray an outlet, causing a fuse to blow which, when I went out of the front door, the resulting chimney effect caused the back door to slam shut, and breaking it - well, that sort of Chevy Chase morning would usually have me rolling on the floor. But not during marathon training.
Instead, it took series of totally bizarre, classic Fremantle (the town we live in) events to bring it all back to perspective.
1) On a run later that morning, I spotted a group of people in white pajamas and red belts chasing around one of the parks, wrestling with what appeared to be a bear. We are talking like, a couple-dozen people here, and splashing around in a 50 degree drizzle. In pajamas - or did I mention that already? Intrigued, I ran a little closer, and discovered that they were enacting the running of the bulls in Pamplona, with the part of the Bull being played by a guy in a rented costume and no audience - just out there having fun.
Interesting, but I still needed more.
2) That Same Day - we boarded a train into the city, and found ourselves on a carriage of 25 or so guys in their late twenties, all dressed as characters from Harry Potter, complete with broomsticks and wands, using the don't-fall-over straps to hold themselves up and pretend that they were flying on the broomsticks. Other than loud, they were a pretty pleasant bunch, and actually gave a broomstick to a little boy as he was leaving, cheering loudly when he "flew" along side the departing train car.
Surreal, yes, but not enough to re-align my sense of humor.
3) Later That Night - on the way back from the city, our train was boarded by a jungle. A dozen or so people dressed variously as foliage, big cats, and intrepid explorers got on board. No explanation, just having a good time.
Okay, okay! I surrender! All this in one day? Really! Somebody is telling me something.
All in all, this sort of day - starting with the burst pipe and continuing on through George of the Jungle's appearance at the end of the day, was enough to keep me smiling all through the marathon yesterday - well, most of the marathon. It took a long, long time, and nobody can smile for that long, I don't care which infomercial they work for.
Audience poll: First thing that pops into your mind when I type the new word usement I'm structuring, "Marathong"
I kept typing it by accident, then started wondering if it was really for some, non-freudian reason that I would need your help divining. Or maybe it's just the obvious...
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2 comments:
So, a "marathong" is this an item I could purchase? Say something I could wear at an endurance sport event, maybe made out of mosture wicking fabric? Maybe one could even sell advertising space to a sponsor - oh wait that might not work so well . . . .
Selling ads on the marathong has merit. People would certainly look.
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