In what can only be described as a display of endurance and memory loss, the world’s longest marathon has finally come to a bittersweet conclusion after an exhaustive seven-year period. The event, originally intended to challenge the stamina and spirit of its participants, ended up testing their recollection skills more than anything else.
The marathon’s victor, a somewhat disoriented but victorious Harold “Snail’s Pace” McGregor, crossed the finish line last Thursday, to the rapturous applause of the two remaining spectators who hadn’t sold their tickets on eBay. Harold, clutching a lukewarm bottle of sports drink and trying to unravel a severely tangled participation medal ribbon, displayed a range of emotions from bewilderment to mild surprise.
“I really don’t remember why I was running,” admitted the 45-year-old marathoner, who started the race in 2016 with a much fuller head of hair and zero grandchildren. “At first, I thought it was for a good cause or perhaps to accomplish a personal goal. But after year four, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other because I forgot where the exit was.”
The marathon, organized by the somewhat obscure World League of Unendurable Challenges (WLUC), originally attracted 3,000 enthusiastic participants from around the globe. However, as the race stretched from months to years, many runners dropped out due to various life events such as getting a new job, relocating to a different country, or spontaneously deciding to train for a 5K instead.
In a turn of events, the silver medal, which finally made its way through the postal service delay in year six, was awarded to Betsy “The Minute Hand” Thompson, who was unavailable for comment as she was reportedly stuck in a particularly complex IKEA assembly marathon of her own. “If it’s like anything else in Sweden, she should be done in three to five business years,” commented a race official while balancing a LÖVBACKEN on his shoulder.
The marathon course, originally mapped out over the scenic route of Loopworth Park, had remained virtually unchanged thanks to dedicated volunteer coordinators. These volunteers, who diligently replaced arrow signs and restocked food stations with hardened energy bars every month, described their seven-year service as a “sentence we inflicted on ourselves.”
Critics of the event have raised concerns about the rules of the marathon, suggesting that such an extended format should incorporate yearly reminders of what participants are doing and how chèvre pairs best with specific red wines. However, organizers argue that the increasingly existential nature of the marathon added a layer of philosophical intrigue that’s unparalleled in competitive long-distance running history.
As the marathon official, Ted Sleet, expressed, “This was never just a race. It became a metaphorical exploration of human persistence, memory resilience, and the importance of GPS tracking.”
Plans for the next marathon are already underway, with proposals to shorten the race from a seven-year epic to a marathon spanning a mere presidential term, to accommodate participants who’d like to return home before their houseplants die of loneliness.
For Harold, this victory has brought him a sense of accomplishment and a desire “to get new shoes since these are more hole than sole now.” As he approaches his post-marathon rest period that will inevitably stretch as long as the event itself, there’s a final question on everyone’s mind: what happens next?
Harold grins with newfound wisdom, “Well, I’m going to have a very long nap, start a book club, and maybe take a quicker mode of transport. Perhaps a cross-country walk—those don’t take as long, do they?”
With a dream in his heart and seven years of memories in his shoes, Harold McGregor has taught us all that even when the finish line seems impossibly distant, sometimes, it’s not about speed—it’s about unrelenting, aimless perseverance.