An Epic Marathon Indeed

In the words of Keith Murray: Marathon Monday was all that and a big bag of chips with the dip. In less time than it takes to transform from preppy med student to accused homicidal maniac, I managed to: spend an obscene amount of cash on beer, booze, and nachos; Twitter like an Adderall-addled adolescent; convince Boston Police officers that I was a Herald sports reporter; get caught not being a Herald sports reporter; squander my journalistic integrity for a sweet free pair of Nike LunarGlides that won’t drop until August; teach a tripping meathead who lost his buddies at the Sox game how to use an ATM and catch a cab back to Melrose; laugh at spectators who were - for some odd reason - dressed like they were running themselves; remind folks that you don’t have to actually run a marathon to say you ran a marathon; and, finally, spend three straight hours modeling a blood and vomit moustache on my filthy bathroom floor.  

That said - nothing I endured is comparable to the journey that Will Thomas and Seth Bradbury took from Peaks Island in Maine to the finish line in Copley Square. As we reported this past week, the duo underwent their first masochistic Epic Man triathlon adventure that broke traditional exercise norms by incorporating beer drinking and other shenanigans into the course. I met up with Seth and Will at the Rattlesnake on Boylston Street after their impressive finish to ask about the latter’s bike accident and faulty chain, their planned three-hour break that wound up being only thirty minutes, and the fact that neither of them wound up getting bloody nipples.