Two years after the birth of her baby, Celia decided to participate in the London Marathon. Running had been a particular passion of hers in high school, and a favorite pastime at university also, so when the date of the marathon was announced, she decided that she could not let the opportunity pass. Before the race, she needed to find a patron who would pay a certain amount of money for each mile that she completed, the money to be given to a nominated charity. She also needed to jog several miles every day, to pave the way for her great performance and to ensure that she would be at the peak of physical fitness on the day.
Her search for a patron was only a partial success. Even her flabby old boss wouldn’t offer her more than five pence a mile, and nobody else wanted to risk backing her according to the mileage she completed, though she did manage to persuade a number of her colleagues to pay a fixed amount for the whole race.
This seemed like a paradox to Celia. After all, she reasoned, why don’t they just decide how much they want to pay and divide it by the number of miles in the race? But no one else could understand her logic.
On the day of the marathon, there was a grand parade of all the competitors. Celia felt passive and resigned, she had prepared as well as she could. After the starter’s gun was fired, Celia soon started to pant, and watched grimly as the other runners pulled away in front of her. Then, to her horror, she noticed that a peculiar looking person in a strange suit, who was running parallel to her, was moving towards her and had removed the patch from over his mouth and was grinning at her. His outfit was covered with a pattern of pink blobs, and he was wearing bright pink patent leather shoes.
“Go away, you pathetic parasite,” yelled Celia, “what are you trying to do, paralyze me?” the creature’s only answer was to move right up to Celia and pat her gently on the back.
“I love you too, Celia,” said the man in the strange suit, “and may the best man win.” Then he lifted up his head for a moment so that she could see quite clearly that he was her boss, after which her streaked off ahead of her into the distance.
Her search for a patron was only a partial success. Even her flabby old boss wouldn’t offer her more than five pence a mile, and nobody else wanted to risk backing her according to the mileage she completed, though she did manage to persuade a number of her colleagues to pay a fixed amount for the whole race.
This seemed like a paradox to Celia. After all, she reasoned, why don’t they just decide how much they want to pay and divide it by the number of miles in the race? But no one else could understand her logic.
On the day of the marathon, there was a grand parade of all the competitors. Celia felt passive and resigned, she had prepared as well as she could. After the starter’s gun was fired, Celia soon started to pant, and watched grimly as the other runners pulled away in front of her. Then, to her horror, she noticed that a peculiar looking person in a strange suit, who was running parallel to her, was moving towards her and had removed the patch from over his mouth and was grinning at her. His outfit was covered with a pattern of pink blobs, and he was wearing bright pink patent leather shoes.
“Go away, you pathetic parasite,” yelled Celia, “what are you trying to do, paralyze me?” the creature’s only answer was to move right up to Celia and pat her gently on the back.
“I love you too, Celia,” said the man in the strange suit, “and may the best man win.” Then he lifted up his head for a moment so that she could see quite clearly that he was her boss, after which her streaked off ahead of her into the distance.