How Tripping On Magic Mushrooms Is Actually Quite Similar Emotionally To Running A Marathon.
OK I was walking up Sydenham Hill last week and it suddenly occurred to me that the marathon experience is extraordinarily similar to that of the ‘trip’ you have when you take psilocybin mushrooms.
Now I don’t recommend any mushrooms whatsoever. I think assholes like Steve Jobs have a lot to answer for when they shamelessly glorify hallucinogens.
If you want to see the true face of a fucking hippy then have a look at the picture below.
That was me 10 years ago. I used to wear those glasses everywhere. I thought they made me look mysterious when they made me look like a special needs Roy Orbison. Just don’t take anything ever kids.
Anyway what follows is an hour by hour comparison of what you’d normally experience in a marathon and on a trip.
Both usually last for around 4-5 hours and leave you sweating like a rapist.
Pre event Anxiety
T : 0:00
Mushrooms – Anxious. Why the fuck am I doing this? Oh yes, Steve Jobs/Bill Hicks told me to. I think I need to be sick.
Marathon – Anxious. If it goes bad in the middle, how will I survive? Why the fuck am I doing this?
The early ‘wow I’m having the time of my life!” spell.
Mushrooms – OMG everything is so fucking hilarious! My thoughts are coming out as soap bubbles ROTFLMAO. Why don’t we do this every week?
Marathon – OMG this run is so amazing! I could run for hours! Why don’t we do this every week?
The “oh fuck something isn’t right I’m gonna die” spell.
Mushrooms – You hit the crossroads. First pangs of anxiety. You’re listening to Sinead O’Connor in your filthy hippy den and you think you just saw her form skulking in your closet. The walls are breathing again. Are you living in her womb? Are you the demon spawn of the wicked nun from Glenageary?
It all makes sense. That’s why you stole all of those cookies from your kitchen when you were a kid. You’re wicked too! No man deserves to be shot out of 2 holes in his life time, but God is making an exception for you. And when you drop out of your new mother’s hole it will sound like an elephant falling arse first into a boom mic.
Marathon – You hit your first period of doubt. Can you keep going for another 2 hours? You didn’t train enough for this race did you? You’re a failure. You’re a waste of space. Go on. Just give up and let the DNF bus pick you up so you can feed your fat face at home.
Mushrooms – The trip has peaked. The worst of the experience is over. You’ve realised that Sinead O’Connor is actually your old tennis racquet and that everything will be OK. You will get through this experience. You’re starting to see the warm, funny side of things again. You’re even thinking about ordering a pizza. What have you learned from the experience? Nothing. You could harp off that Bill Hicks hippy shit about how we’re all energy combined but everyone with half a fucking brain knows that’s all fucking hippy bullshit.
Marathon – You’ve hit the wall but you’re reaching the end of it now and your gradually getting closer to 26.2. You know you can make it. Hope cracks a hole through the mist of your heart and you see through new eyes. The fear and the doubt still lingers, coming back in waves but you have it. You think back to all of the hard work that you put into your training and you feel proud of yourself.
The beautiful, beautiful afterglow.
Finish mushrooms – Reborn. Vow to never shave your beaver again. Will join a Peruvian pipe band and cut the ass out of all your best jeans.
Finish marathon – Reborn. Vow to shave your beaver immediately after the race since you got a bit of your bush caught in a fence at mile 22. You’re euphoric for a day, then you experience the post marathon blues. That’s when you enter another 10 fucking marathons like the addict you are.
Now just in case you’re thinking of taking magic mushrooms, please consult this picture.