Movie Marathon

The first ever marathon was supposedly run by a Greek soldier bringing news of victory to the people of Athens from the battle of Marathon, after which he keeled over from exhaustion and died. Much like the first marathon, a movie marathon is also an endurance test, thwart with the dangers of running out of dip and not being able to find the DVD remote. In the modern Olympics, athletes are required to run 42.195 kilometres. But, for our chosen film trilogy, The Lord of the Rings (extended editions, no cutting corners here); there’s an average run time of approximately 10hrs 54mins.

The scene was set, the table laden with chips, dips and enough fizzy pop to put us in direct competition with Paula Radcliffe. The duvets were on the sofa, the DVD in the player, all plans for the day had been cancelled and the ‘play feature’ option had been selected, it had begun. Quickly, the first topic of conversation arose; Frodo’s sexuality.  Questions were also asked about little boys hugging old men with promises of surprises, but it was agreed by all that Gandalf was pretty much God and therefore could have absolutely no ulterior perverted motives. The first movie progressed without much issue. As soon as the credits rolled, the rush to the toilets had begun and the group of previously innate students suddenly became akin to the orcs of Mordor, squabbling and fighting over who would get the first piss.

The second movie began in the early afternoon. Some of our group had been lost along the way (much like the fellowship itself) and provisions were running low by the time Gandalf reappeared. We took to rationing. 5 Pringles, a handful of Doritos and a glass of coke each was all that we had left. The trek to Mordor was going to be hard. We had barely gotten to the battle of Helm’s Deep when the decision had been made. We couldn’t go on like this, something had to be done. Half an hour later the movie had finished and there was a convenient knock at the door. The pizza had arrived!

The last movie began at around 5pm. Our sorry fellowship had been reduced to four, yet our spirits were kept high by 12 inches each of Meat Feast. By now we were all restless, mentally exhausted and ready to give in. But together we persevered, and before we knew it, Frodo was in Mordor. It felt like our whole lives had been leading up to this moment. The finish line was in sight and the Dark Lord nearly vanquished.  That’s when we remembered about the extra 20 minutes of hugging and laughter that occurs at the end.

11 hours ago we had set out from the shire, and since then we had come so far. Our marathon was over, and it was now time to keel over with exhaustion