Living Room, 2030
"Kids, there are moments in life when destiny aligns in mysterious ways. A penny here, a broken toe there, and suddenly you find yourself in a subway station at three in the morning, waiting for a friend to get off a train."
Ted leans back in his armchair as he tells another funny story from his past to his children, maintaining that smile they knew so well.
"But to understand how I ended up in that station, first we have to go back a few months to April 2006. Which was the exact moment Marshall Eriksen decided he was going to run the New York Marathon."
Marshall, Lily, and Ted's Apartment, April 2006
Marshall was in front of the mirror, looking at his stomach with a worried expression.
"My pants are starting to feel a little tight."
Lily, from the bed, smiled. "Oh, it's okay. I love that little belly."
"I can't allow this." Marshall turned with determination in his eyes. "I'm going to run the New York Marathon."
Lily blinked. "The marathon? 42 kilometers?"
"26 miles, Lily. And I'm going to run every single one of them."
The following months were a whirlwind of training. Marshall would wake at dawn, run all over Brooklyn, and come back exhausted but happy.
But there was a problem: Marshall was new to running. He didn't know how to stretch, how to eat, or how to avoid injuries.
That's where Alyx came in.
Alyx had run marathons in her youth. Well, not exactly in her "other life" (the one she couldn't mention), but she had seen enough documentaries and read enough articles to know everything about endurance training.
One afternoon, she found Marshall in the kitchen eating a giant plate of pasta for breakfast.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Carbo-loading. The book says it's important."
"Marshall, it's eight in the morning. You carbo-load the night before the race, not every morning for three months."
Marshall looked at his plate, then at Alyx. "So what should I eat?"
Alyx sighed. "Sit down. I'm going to explain."
From that day on, Alyx became his unofficial coach. She taught him how to stretch properly ("No, not like that, you'll tear a muscle"), prepared protein shakes for him ("Drink this, it tastes horrible but it works"), and reminded him to hydrate ("Marshall, it's three in the afternoon and you haven't drunk any water. Drink water").
Lily watched it all with a mix of gratitude and amusement.
"He takes you more seriously than me," she said one night as they watched Marshall do stretching exercises in the living room.
"That's because he listens to me," Alyx replied. "You always do the opposite of what I say."
"Because I'm a rebel."
"You're a headache."
Lily smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "But you love me."
"Always."
The whole group got involved in Marshall's preparation.
Ted found him articles on sports nutrition. Robin recorded running programs for him so he could watch professional runners' techniques. And Barney... well, Barney bet him he wouldn't finish the race.
"I bet you 50 bucks you drop out at mile 20."
"Barney, that's pessimistic."
"It's realistic. And if I win, I'll buy myself something nice."
Marshall accepted the bet, because Marshall accepted all of Barney's bets. It was his way of saying "I love you."
And then there was the day of "positive reinforcement."
Ted showed up at the apartment with a whiteboard and markers.
"I've been reading about sports psychology. It says you have to give yourself constant positive reinforcement, so I've prepared some phrases for you to repeat."
Marshall read the whiteboard:
*-This is going to be your best race yet.-
*-You're going to achieve all your goals.-
-You are a robot sent from the future to win the marathon.-
"A robot?" asked Marshall.
"It's a metaphor. Robots are efficient, and you're efficient. Therefore, you're a robot."
"I'm not sure it works like that," Marshall said doubtfully.
"Trust me. And now, repeat after me: I am Marshall!"
Marshall looked at him. "That's it? 'I am Marshall'?"
"It's an identity affirmation. You are Marshall, and Marshall runs marathons."
Marshall nodded slowly. "Okay. I am Marshall. I am Marshall. I AM MARSHALL!"
"Yes, that's the way!"
Alyx, watching from the sofa, noted in her sketchbook: "Ted Mosby, sports psychology expert. Results: questionable."
Race Day
Marathon Sunday was approaching. The group was ready. Marshall had prepared for months. He had followed Alyx's advice, Ted's encouragement, Robin's recordings, and had ignored Barney's bets.
But destiny, as always, had other plans.
The morning of the marathon, Lily entered the apartment after spending the night camping out to get a wedding dress. She was exhausted, could barely stand.
"I need to sleep," she murmured.
"Yeah, honey, go ahead. I'll finish getting ready."
Lily left. Marshall continued his warm-up exercises. And then, in a stroke of bad luck, he injured himself on the way to the bathroom.
The pain was immediate, sharp, unbearable.
He looked at his foot. The toe was swollen, bruised, clearly broken.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no..."
He got to the hospital. The X-rays confirmed the worst: fractured toe. Nothing serious, but enough to prevent him from running.
"Sorry, buddy," said the doctor. "No marathons for at least six weeks."
Marshall left the hospital with his soul shattered. He had trained for months. Followed all the advice. Become a robot sent from the future.
And now, nothing.
That Night
The group gathered at the apartment to console Marshall.
"I'm so sorry, Marsh," said Lily, hugging him.
"It sucks," said Marshall. "All that work, for nothing."
Barney, sitting in the armchair eating popcorn, interjected: "Train for a marathon? You don't need to train for a marathon. You just run it."
Marshall looked at him. "What?"
"Personally, I could run a marathon anytime I wanted."
"Barney, we're talking about 42 kilometers."
"That's how you run a marathon. Step one: you start running. There is no step two."
Ted intervened: "Barney, it's not that simple."
"Of course it is. People run marathons all the time. It's not quantum physics."
Robin, from the kitchen, said: "And you could do it?"
"Absolutely."
"Tomorrow?" asked Marshall with a spark of hope in his eyes. "You think you could wake up, get out of bed, and run the New York Marathon?"
Barney hesitated for a second. Then he smiled. "Sure."
"I bet you 50 bucks you don't finish," said Marshall excitedly, already seeing that Barney wouldn't make it.
"50 bucks? Wow, grandpa. If I win, maybe I can buy myself an ice cream," Barney countered, not very enthused by the small amount.
"Make it 10,000," Barney proposed enthusiastically.
"You have a gambling problem. You'll bet me 50," Marshall insisted firmly.
"Fine, then no bet," Barney said, sulking.
Barney looked at him and then, slowly, said: "Alright... 50 dollars."
Alyx, who had been watching everything from her corner, noted in her sketchbook: "Barney Stinson, 32 years old, agrees to run a marathon with no training for 50 dollars. Diagnosis: poorly managed pride."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
SPECIAL PROMOTION
Subscribe today and take advantage of the "THE DUNPHY" discount, valid until! Don't miss a single chapter of this story. IN MY PATREON
----------------------------------------------------------------------
If you enjoyed it, leave a Review and Power Stones.
✅ Early access to 22 new chapters
Join LEGEN - DARY Level on Patreon
👉 https://[email protected]/cw/Day_bluefic
@=a
Want more?
The following chapters are available as specials on Patreon:
Chapters 87-89: Alyx's full dental odyssey (the complete extended version)
Find them on Patreon. Link in bio/profile.
Comment, follow, and support with power stones! 🔥