Run All The States!

If you don’t read The Oatmeal, you’re seriously missing out.

Matthew Inman’s webcomic is a joyous, ridiculous, and painfully accurate deep dive into important life topics like zombies, grammar, internet culture, cats, and yes, running. One of his most iconic comics, “The Terrible and Wonderful Reasons Why I Run Long Distances,” introduced the world to The Blerch: a “fat little cherub…who represents all forms of gluttony, apathy, and indifference that plague my life.” As runners (and, let’s be honest, as humans), we all know The Blerch. He whispers sweet nothings like, “Hey, why run when you could nap and eat cake?” And honestly, he makes some solid points.

Do not be fooled by his cute, bright-eyed face. This little menace is here to ruin your best intentions.

So, if you haven’t read this comic yet, go do it. Now. I’ll wait.

[sips coffee]

Okay, welcome back. Now that we’re all on the same page, you’ll understand why, when The Oatmeal announced a Beat the Blerch event, we knew it wasn’t going to be your average race. Actually, scratch that — it wasn’t even a race. There were no awards, personal worsts were celebrated, aid stations were overflowing with cake and snacks, and Blerches in fat suits lurked along the course to lure runners onto couches for mid-race naps. All of this was perfectly summed up in the greatest race motto of all time:

“Run for agony. Run for serenity. Run for cake.”

Oh, and there was a KITTEN. PETTING. STATION.

This was not a drill. This was peak race day perfection.

Run Less, Eat More!

Seattle is known for its rain, and on race day, the city delivered. A biblical downpour set the mood for what would be a soggy, mud-splattered trek through the forest.

I came prepared with an absurdly oversized trash bag to keep dry, but at the starting area, Zappo’s (one of the race sponsors) was handing out free white ponchos. Score! Except… as we put them on and looked around, we realized that a sea of people in white hooded ponchos standing in formation was giving off some very, uh, problematic historical vibes.

“Did NO ONE think about how this looks?!” Cara blurted out. Good intentions, questionable execution, Zappo’s.

Despite the rain, the pre-race village was buzzing with weird and wonderful energy. A Blerch mascot was handing out shots of maple syrup, and runners were busy at the DIY donut tent, decorating their pre-race fuel with Skittles, chocolate, and bacon. After all, why bother warming up with strides and leg swings when you can just eat a fistful of marshmallows and call it good? It’s all in the true spirit of The Blerch.

Finally, the time had come. We waddled to the start line in our ponchos, still resembling members of a very confused cult, and off we went! The course started with a paved path before leading onto the lush, green Snoqualmie Valley Trail. And I mean GREEN. Like, “Crayola needs a new shade just for this” kind of green. Evergreens, moss, ferns — everywhere. It was gorgeous, if you could ignore the frequent landmines of horse poop along the way.

A few miles in, we reached the aid station and were fully immersed in peak Blerch culture. We ditched our ponchos and placed them among others in the heap of discarded ponchos. Volunteers aggressively shoved Nutella treats at us while costumed Blerches scolded anyone who looked like they were trying too hard. “HEY! Slow down, Captain Speedy Pants!” one shouted at a passing runner.

These were the most glorious aid stations, full of cake bites, pretzels, chips, and magical sugary grapey beverages. It was such a shame to have to leave this party, but we still had more miles to go to cement this personal worst. But first: we took a seat next to a smug-looking Blerch on a couch (its suede cushions had become questionably moist after hours of rain-soaked butts plopping onto them).

A Yeti made several intentionally-pathetic attempts at hiding in the forest. Er, I mean, what yeti? Don’t be silly; yetis don’t exist! Here’s a picture of me posing by this nice tree and nothing else:

The course was an out-and-back, meaning we got to see the marathoners flying past us in the opposite direction. They were way too fast. The Blerches would surely ambush them with extra Nutella punishment at the next aid station.

As we neared the finish line, our pace picked up — not because we wanted to finish strong, but because the KITTEN PETTING STATION awaited us. Priorities.

The Grand Finale: Snacks, Kittens, and Blerch Glory

We crossed the finish line (hooray!), received our glorious Blerch medals, and immediately went to get them signed by Matthew Inman himself. Upon receiving Cara’s medal, he frowned and said, “Your medal is warm. That’s kinda…gross.” Turns out she had been gripping it with such enthusiasm that it had become uncomfortably sweaty. Nailed that first impression!

Beyond the finish line, there was beer, a Blerchandise table, and photo ops, but nothing mattered more than the kittens. Seattle Humane Society had set up a cozy little kitten zone where runners could snuggle with adoptable fluffballs. It was everything we dreamed of and more.

Post-Race Adventures: Running on Snacks & Caffeine

Once we dried off, it was time to explore Seattle, guided by a personalized Google map from my coworker Scott. He titled it “Seattle Super Amazing Fun Times!!!” and with three exclamation marks, we knew he meant business. Given our mutual love for coffee and beer, we fully trusted his recommendations.

Since the rain showed no signs of stopping, we spent the afternoon inside the giant flagship REI and then settled in for some quality time (and quality beer) at Optimism Brewing Company.

The next day, the sun came out, so we made the most of it: wandering through Pike Place Market (where I got an oatmeal raisin cookie bigger than my face), strolling through the Olympic Sculpture Park, hitting up more breweries, and tackling a super steep hill to get to Kerry Park for the ultimate city view.

We also visited the Fremont Troll, because, honestly, what even is Seattle without posing by a giant creepy under-bridge monster?

Final Thoughts: The Blerch Would Be Proud

We left Seattle having fully embodied the Blerch spirit — eating all the things, drinking all the drinks, and running just enough to justify both. The Blerch would have been very proud of our post-race indulgence, though probably disappointed that we did so much walking. Time to fly home and properly recover by melting into the couch for the next several days (or weeks).

Final verdict: would run for cake again.

Blerchy Blatherings

• Best snack moment: At an aid station, I turned to see Cara happily munching on a sandwich. “Where the hell did you get that?!” “I dunno, someone just handed it to me.” I never got a sandwich. Still bitter.
• Best unexpected running buddy: A wildly enthusiastic off-leash pup who joyfully escorted Cara to an aid station like it was his one true purpose in life.
• Best swag: In addition to a t-shirt, we got a deck of Blerch playing cards, gummy candy, temporary tattoos, and a sticker. 12/10 swag game.
• Best costumes: A lady dressed as a slice of birthday cake (it was actually her birthday), plus a trio dressed as vicious Japanese hornets.
• Best overheard quote: A guy, nearly dropping his phone while reaching for cake: “I’ll drop the damn phone before I drop this cake.”
• Most regrettable roment: Waking up for a 3:30 AM Uber to catch a 5:55 AM flight. No Blerch should be awake at that hour.
• Most triumphantly filthy: My shoes are now a biohazard. Even after multiple washes, they still reek of damp earth and questionable trail deposits. And this was just one run! I have no idea how trail runners endure this level of grime on a regular basis.
• Most bittersweet moment: Snuggling tiny kittens is always a heart-melting, joy-filled experience, but in Seattle, it carried a bittersweet weight. Just a week earlier, I had to say goodbye to my beloved Bamm-Bamm. At only six years old, his little heart — troubled since kittenhood — simply couldn’t keep up with his big, brilliant spirit. Letting him go was heartbreaking, and the loss still feels raw. He was such a sweet, silly boy, and he is deeply missed.