Here is what I could be tweeting on Saturday while I walk (and maybe jog a bit of) the Rock ‘n Roll Seattle Marathon:
Getting up at 3 a.m. to go walk 26 miles in a drizzle. What fun. Chances are good I may be sleep-walking. Who’s idea was it for me to do this?
Yes, it was mine. Stupid me.
At the bus stop: Am I in the bus line or the bathroom line? Oh well, might as well use the Honey Bucket. How come everybody is so full of energy and I’m not?
On the shuttle: Oh, that feels good to cross the finish line to the roar of the crowd cheering me on, on their feet clapping, shouting my name.
Man, did I just fall asleep on the shuttle? Better wake up.
At the starting line: Wow, I’m in Wave No. 455. Looks like a lot of people here in their 80s and 90s. Wonder if we’ll get to the starting line before noon.
At the starting line: Finally. It’s wet out here. Should I drink a 5-Hour Energy or a 6-Hour Energy? Wait, is there an 8-Hour Energy drink anywhere?
The start: Oh, pain! My ankle stiffened at the starting line. Great start … Wish I could run to keep up with her …
Mile 1: Well that only took a half-hour to get here. Could be a long day. At least the rain has stopped.
Mile 2: That looks like the bush where I stopped and peed last year when I ran the marathon. Well, at least it wasn’t into a reservoir.
Mile 3: I just jogged a bit. Pain break!
Mile 4: I wonder if I could borrow that kid’s skateboard for a few miles …
Mile 5: Only 21 miles to go! But this mile has a steep downhill to Seward Park. Trouble for my ankle. May have to walk down it diagonally …
Mile 6: Made it through the downhill. Ah, level ground. Wish I could get a hot dog at the next aid station.
Mile 7: I wonder if I could borrow that kid’s scooter for a few miles …
Mile 8: Oh, how I’d love to have a Segway right now. Wonder how fast I could do a marathon in a Segway?
Mile 9: Should I stop and listen to this Tom Petty tribute band? Probably not if I want to finish before dark.
Mile 10: I can see CenturyLink (Clink) Field. Nice! I’m at a 10-hour marathon pace. The only person behind me has a cardboard sign. Wait, that’s a panhandler.
Mile 11: Man, I’m hungry. Is there a restaurant around here? I could use some lunch. Oh, forgot. Don’t have my wallet with me.
Mile 12: Coming onto the Alaskan Way Viaduct. Hope there’s no earthquake. Where did all the volunteers go? Hey, I need some Gatorade.
Mile 13: At the halfway point. Maybe I’ll finish in 12 hours? Is that marathoner on crutches very far ahead of me?
Mile 14: Are they taking down all the aid stations now?
Mile 18: Tired of this hill. Almost to the Aurora Bridge. Maybe I should jump off. That would ease my ankle pain.
Mile 19: On the Aurora Bridge. I’d have to climb that fence to jump off. Not sure I could scale it.
Mile 20: I am truly hitting the wall. Pain break!
Mile 22: Oh no, they’re taking down the mile markers already?
Mile 23: I think this is Mile 23. Cars are coming at me fast though, so I better hug the right shoulder better. Must have been several hours since the last runners were here.
Mile 24: I know you turn around down here somewhere. I hope I can find the turnaround. I really don’t want to walk to Burien.
Mile 25: Oh, I hope this is the right away. It’s dark out now.
Mile 26: Heading to the finish line. Wait … They took the finish line down?! What time is it? Who is going to give me my medal? Where did everybody go?
Mile 26.2: OK, this looks like it could have been the finish line … Yes, it took me 20 hours to do this race. At least I finished!!!!! What’d you expect?
Walking slowly to my car now.
In the CenturyLink parking garage: What! It looks like my car’s been towed. I’ve gotta walk home. Will someone come and get me, please?
