Marathons are for pussies. 26.2 miles? Ultramarathoners do that for a warm up. It's when you get into triple digit milage that the real fun begins.

100+ miles of torture on your feet, knees, back, heart, mind... not to mention the inner thigh and nipple chafing. Then there's the talking garbage cans...

Check out twin sports nuts the Sklar brothers (yeah, the guys from ESPN's bracket wars), in this hilarious ad from Brooks. "F*ck you raccoon."

I think I need a mylar wrap...