In an unprecedented display of endurance, determination, and dawdling, the Inaugural Global Sloth Marathon has finally wrapped up after a staggering 14 years of competition. The race, which has captivated the imagination and tested the patience of sports enthusiasts worldwide, concluded with a nail-biting finish that no one saw coming—mostly because nobody was still watching.

Conceived in 2009 as a whimsical tribute to the virtue of patience, the marathon began with 57 participants, each one committed to the singular goal of prolonging the experience as much as possible. Unlike traditional marathons that stretch over a mere 26.2 miles, this epic odyssey spanned a meandering, looping 0.26-mile course cleverly designed to maximize procrastination potential.

From the very beginning, competitors demonstrated their talent for delay. In the first year, several racers diverted to the local ice cream parlour, while others were spotted engaging in extended conversations about their favourite cheeses with bewildered spectators. By 2012, the front-runner, for reasons still unclear, decided to take a gap year—to “find himself” he said—adding yet another layer of intrigue to this already serpentine saga.

Midway through the event, the marathon inexplicably morphed into an exhibition of questionable distractions. One participant spent three years knitting a scarf long enough to circle the globe, while another founded a start-up dedicated to inventing more useless apps. Their marathon bibs faded, but their commitment to postponement remained strong.

In a plot twist that would make even the slowest of turtles gasp, last year’s frontrunner was usurped during a particularly prolonged pitstop. Controversially, the underdog moved past him while he was occupied in a 96-hour meditation session. “I didn’t even know the race was still on,” confessed the unexpected victor, Millie Mullins, who astonishingly realized halfway through the final stretch that she was, in fact, competing in a marathon.

Organizers declared Mullins the winner at long last, presenting her with the coveted Golden Snail Trophy, which was reportedly still in the process of being crafted due to delays in its production schedule. Mullins, in a speech laden with pauses and bemusement, dedicated her victory to her late aunt who taught her the art of “letting life come to you, like a lazy river in the sun.”

Despite the relatively unhurried close to this famously languorous competition, talks are already underway for a sequel, tentatively scheduled to unfold over the next quarter-century. Rumours suggest it might revolve around nonchalantly counting the petals of a daisy or watching paint dry—a thrilling prospect for those with ample leisure time and the uncanny ability to pretend time doesn’t matter.

So, as the world bids farewell to this elongated epic of endurance, one thing is clear: Life’s a marathon, not a sprint—and sometimes, just sometimes, it’s perfectly okay to take the scenic route.