So today I got this wild idea to test what really went wrong at that cursed 1904 Olympic marathon. Figured the best way to understand it was to put myself through hell. Grabbed my running shoes and went out at high noon, just like those poor suckers in St. Louis.
The Disaster Recreation Plan
First I strapped on this dumb weight vest I found in my garage – made it feel like running through glue. Drank just two sips of water before heading out, pretending like those idiots who thought water caused cramps. Felt my mouth turn into sandpaper after mile three.
Tried eating random crap along my route too:
- Mushed banana that had been baking in my pocket
- Gas station crackers I crushed by sitting on them
- Warm tap water from a public bathroom sink
Gut started doing backflips around mile six. Stumbled past some tourists waving ice-cold bottles – exactly like those officials denying water to dying runners.
When the Wheels Fell Off
By mile eight I was seeing spots. Leaned against a hot bus stop bench that felt like a frying pan. That’s when the thought hit me:
“Could just hop on this bus and ride three blocks…” Almost understood why Fred Lorz hitched a car ride back then. Panting like a dog, I actually pulled out my phone to check transit routes before slapping myself.
Finished the last two miles shuffle-walking like a zombie. Collapsed on my porch looking like a dropped ice cream cone. Checked my tracker – pace had dropped 90 seconds per mile. Water weight showed 5 lbs lost. Took two hours chugging Pedialyte before my pee turned clear again.
What My Dumb Experiment Taught Me
Basically proved every mistake matters:
- Bad hydration = Your brain starts hallucinating shortcuts
- Terrible nutrition = Gut becomes a torture chamber
- Brutal conditions = Your body turns into a traitor
Sitting in my air-conditioned living room now typing this. Knees feel like they’ve been hammered and my stomach’s still gurgling poison. Moral of the story? Don’t be a stubborn idiot like those 1904 organizers – drink the damn water.
