For readers of The Oatmeal, this may come as a surprise. It certainly did to me:

Matthew Inman, the hilarious tech nerd behind The Oatmeal’s comics, is apparently a running nerd as well. And not only that– in spite of his portly avatar, he’s an ultra marathoner. He wrote about his experience in the White River Ultra here (Thanks Chris, for pointing this out).

Welcome to the fold, Matthew.

Bonus: One of The Oatmeal’s long-term readers offers some lovely parenting advice.

Recently I wrote on the brutally hilly terrain surrounding my new home. The lay of the land (or rather, the local roads) has led to another unusual circumstance.

With two days to go in my running week, I find myself already ahead of my mileage goal.

I had this strange and wonderful realization yesterday. I was mapping out the run I had just completed, which was not at all the run I had planned.

That’s how the local roads relate to my extra miles: they’re confusing as hell, and I get lost. They wind around and loop into themselves, and whoever planned them out must have had some sort of fetish for cul de sacs. Viewed from above they form needlessly intricate patterns.

Drifting through this mess is one hopelessly lost Turtlerunner. I put in unplanned miles wandering the backstreets, trying to find a recognizable landmark.

Is this the impression you have of me? All the technology you use to examine my personal interests and this is the product you recommend for me?

Sure, I like to to run, and I’m just out of college. And I have a fondness for beer, which Betabrand, that weaver of disco fabrics, endorses.

And sure, i was looking for some high-visibility running gear. But that was to keep me safe. It was most definitely not because I wanted nighttime headlights to light my ass up like a beacon– as glorious a vision as that is.

And yes, I enjoy Betabrand’s humor, which lies somewhere between TheOatmeal.com and an Axe commercial. They’re right about my “space-age polymers”; perhaps I don’t need to be prepared for wolverine attacks in the middle of a sub-zero hurricane.

But no, I shan’t indulge in their disco shorts. Like the rest of Betabrand’s products, these bottoms are a little too hip for my bottom. So hip, in fact, that I fear them growing an ironic mustache.

Sincerely,
Turtlerunner

Imagine climbing mount Everest. The days of arduous trekking in full gear. Disassembling your tent knowing that it’s going to be another cold, hard day of climbing. Your joints aching, your breath frozen on your goggles. Trudging forward all the same, knowing that the summit awaits you.

Now imagine that there is an elevator leading to the top of mount Everest. Would people still venture to the summit? Sure, but they wouldn’t tell their grandkids about it.

The point is, people climb the mountain precisely because it’s so hard. Its challenge breaks us away from the mundanity of comfort. Much like running, actually.

And so we arrive at my point:

First off, you can see why this ad attracted my attention. I’ve heard similar arguments over the years from many half-assedletes, but never in reference to marathon training.

A marathon is the Everest to most runners. To run 26.2 miles– well– requires several months of consistent, disciplined training. And I like to think that most marathoners, when they excel in such a challenging event, take pride not in how easy their task was, but how difficult.

After all, you’re not going to sit your grandkids down and tell them about the time you took a shortcut to marathon greatness (Unless you’re Rosie Ruiz). You’re going to tell them about the hard work that went into preparing yourself, mentally, physically, and spiritually for the 26.2.

Even if this method worked (which seems unlikely) it would be like an elevator installed at Mount Everest. You could get to the top, sure, but why bother?

Ever hear of a Stretch Armstrong? It was a toy man whose appendages could stretch crazy far and, when released, return to their regular length. It was a pretty sweet toy, until stretched too far; thus abused, it would spill its innards out on the youth who dared test its limits. At this point the young man would find his hands coated in a strange mixture of goo and sand that smelled faintly of regret.

This is my rather long-winded way of describing the consistency of GU, the leading line of energy gels. If I had split open a Stretch Armstrong and devoured its viscera, I imagine the experience would be similar to eating GU.

The full line-up.

I’m writing about this product because it’s offered on the course of my upcoming ultra. Hearing that it takes some getting used to, I decided to try out the energy gel during today’s 20-miler. And, despite the ghoulish scene above, the results pleased me. I felt like GU helped maintain high energy throughout my run. It also seemed to ward off the slack feeling I sometimes get in my legs.

In short, I’m glad they’re offered on the course of my race. 40 miles into it, I’ll probably be sucking these packets down like pixie sticks. That is, if I can get past the texture.