The Mouse Island Marathon
Page 2
its huge (and very hungry) sharks.
Nibbles is known for its very strange climate, which is constantly
changing. When the north wind blows the temperatures are icy,
and when the south wind blows it’s like living in an oven!
4. Mousehara Desert
5. Rio Mosquito
THE CITY OF NIBBLES
Route of the mouse island marathon
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extremely rare species. She had escaped from
the Natural Science Mouseum of Nibbles,
where scientists had been studying her. Now
the whole city of Nibbles was running from
Fifi.
I stared at the picture of the horrifying
wild cat. Then I noticed my fellow passengers.
They looked as wild as Fifi. And they
were all headed to the marathon, too.
How did I know they were marathon
runners? That’s easy:
1 They were all wearing expensive track suits.
2 They all took turns racing one another
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UP AND DOWN the aisles.
1 They all drank from big water bottles.
2 They all ate energy bars.
3 They all read fitness magazines.
4 They all had big muscles.
5 They all looked like they’d be finished
with the race before I even crossed the
STARTING LINE!
I sank down in my seat. Oh, when would
this nightmare be over?
Finally, it was time for lunch. At last,
something to celebrate! I licked my whiskers.
Right then, the flight attendant passed me
a plate. I almost cried out loud.
Three lettuce leaves, two raw
carrots and a boiled turnip
stared back at me.
I pulled the attendant aside. “Um, excuse
me, madam. Is there any way you could get
me something a little less healthy? Like a big
slab of cheddar lasagna?” I whispered.
The flight attendant smiled. But next to
me, Champ frowned. Rats!
“Mr. G, I’m very disappointed in you,”
he scolded. “You know you’re in training. In
fact, madam, can you please remove one of
these lecttuce leaves? My friend here is on
a very strict diet.”
I chewed my pawnail in dismay. Oh, if only
it were a delicious piece of chocolate cake!
With a sigh, I picked up a carrot. I took a
bite. It tasted like a piece of rubber. YUCK!
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After the carrot, I needed to get
rid of the rubber taste. I picked
up my cup. It was filled with some
kind of strange, lumpy brown liquid. I
think it was one of those energy drinks.
I took a sip. I gagged. This drink sure
gave me energy. I felt like hurling
my cup out the window!
I was so hungry, I decided
there was only one thing left to
do. I had to use my imagination.
I pretended the carrot was a slice
of cheese pizza and the energy
drink was a yummy mozzarella
milk shake. Quickly, I tried gulping
them down together. It didn’t work.
All I tasted was rubber and a
cross between sour pickles and
curdled milk.
I tried gulping them down
All I tasted was rubber
together.
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I picked up a carrot.
I picked up my cup.
and...curdled milk.
DIIIIIIIING
DIIIIIIIIIING!
At last, the plane landed in Nibbles.
I was exhausted. When we reached the
hotel, I crawled straight into bed.
“Don’t forget to set your alarm clock. The
big race is tomorrow,” Champ reminded me.
I sat up in bed. Holey cheese! I was so
tired, I had forgotten all about the marathon.
I started to worry. What if I tripped? What
if I fainted?
I didn’t shut my eyes until 6 A.M.
Two minutes later,
the alarm went off.
I was a wreck.
D
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When I got to the hotel lobby, I noticed
something strange. A lot of the other runners
had bags under their eyes, too.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one who was
nervous!
A mouse with pretty honey-colored fur
tapped my shoulder.
“Is this your first marathon?” she asked.
“Mine, too. I’m Honey Fur.”
I smiled. Maybe this marathon business
wasn’t so bad after all.
“Um, yes, well, uh, my name is Stilton,
Geronimo Stilton . . .” I began.
But I was interrupted by Champ.
He stood on a platform near a huge open
window. In one paw he held a microphone.
In the other, he held a stack of notecards.
“Dear rodent friends, I’d like to welcome
you all to THE MOUSE ISLAND MARATHON,”
he squeaked, reading
his speech off the cards.
“For some of you, this is
your first marathon, and
I want to congratulate
you on your courage. You
will soon see that running
a marathon is a truly
WONDERFUL experience.”
Right then, a big
CUST of wind blew in
the window. It picked
up Champ’s cards and
tossed them all over the
room.
“My speech,” Champ
MUTTERED, looking
lost. I decided to help
Champ out. I grabbed
THE MARATHON
The oldest long-distance running
race became an Olympic sport
at the world’s first modern
edition of the games in 1896.
The name marathon goes back
to 490 b.c. when the Greek
soldier Pheidippides ran from
the battlefield of Marathon
to Athens (24.85 miles) to
announce victory over the
Persians.
The length of the marathon
was initially fixed according to
the distance run by Pheidippides
(24.85 miles), but following the
1908 London Olympics, the
distance was changed to its
present length: 26.2 miles. This
corresponds to the distance
between Windsor Castle (where
the race began) and the White
City stadium (where it ended).
Over the years, the marathon
has been adopted as a major
sporting event by several of the
world’s most important cities.
The oldest annual marathon is
the Boston Marathon, which has
been around since 1897!
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the microphone from him.
“Um, well, hello, my name is Geronimo
Stilton, and I’m very excited to be running
my first marathon today,” I stammered.
“I’ve been training really hard for this race.
I’ve even given up all of my favorite foods like
triple deluxe cheddar burgers, and my dear
aunt Ratilda’s homemade cream cheese.”
Before I knew it, I was drooling all over
the microphone.
I looked around. The other runners were
drooling, too. Champ glared at me. Uh-oh.
I didn’t mean to cause a scene, making
everyone remember the foods they’d given
up. Still, could I help it if I just couldn’t say
no to CREAM CHEESE?
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IT FIGURES ...
Before I knew it, it was time to start the
race. Runners spilled out of the hotel. We
were greeted by a rush of frozen air. It was
snowing!
Luckily, I was prepared. I pulled a hat
over my ears and wrapped a scarf around
my snout. I stumbled blindly through the
snow. A minute later, I walked smack into
another runner. “Watch where you’re going,
Furball,” the mouse muttered. His voice
sounded familiar. It was GLUMY GUS VON
CRACKLEFUR
He was the uncle of my strange
friend, Creepella von Cacklefur. Gloomy
Gus was just as weird as his niece. And he
was always complaining about something.
“It figures we’d get stuck running in the
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middle of a snowstorm, eh, Geronimo?” he
grumbled. “The weather in Nibbles is the
worst. When the north wind blows, your
fur turns to icicles. When the south wind
blows, you can fry an egg on your snout.”
I listened politely as Gloomy Gus moaned
and groaned about, well, everything. I shook
my head in sympathy. What else could I do?
There was no cheering up old Gloomy Gus.
In fact, if you looked up the word miserable
in the dictionary, you’d probably find his
picture next to it.
KEEP YOUR PAWS ON
THE
GROUND!
The marathon’s starting line was on
a giant bridge. I could hardly believe the
crowd. It was huge! There were
young rodents, old rodents, and rodents
of all different sizes, shapes, and colors.
There were serious athletes and cheese
puffs
, like me.
Some athletes were blind and were
paired with guides. Others were in special
wheelchairs, which they moved using
their paws.
What an amazing sight. For the
first time, I started to relax. If rodents
with disabilities could do a
marathon, maybe
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I could do it, too. I began to get excited. Yes,
Geronimo! I told myself. You can do it.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted
a beat-up old pickup truck. The rat who was
driving it looked just like an undertaker. A
sign on the back of the truck read, REST IN
PIECES.
“Don’t worry if you don’t make it. I’ll
pick up your remains,” the rat SNICKERED
through the window.
A shiver ran down my fur. Oh, who
was I kidding? I wasn’t an athlete. I couldn’t
run a marathon. Even though it was freezing
outside, I broke into a sweat. My head began
to pound. MY PAWS SHOOK
An old mouse patted me on the
shoulder.
“Don’t be nervous, Sonny. All you have
to do is keep your paws on the ground and
keep reaching for the stars,” he advised.
“My name is old rat rickety but you
can call me Rickety for short. I’ve been
running marathons for thirty-
five years, and let me tell
you, they never get boring.
Yep, something tells me
this one’s going to be the
craziest yet!”
I gulped. Old Rat
Rickety was starting to
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look a little crazy himself. His eyes gleamed.
His whiskers whirled in the wind. Before
he moved on, he whispered one last bit of
advice in my ear.
"Just remeber sonny," he squeaked.
"Never give up. Never stop believing in yourself"
And never get the prune cheese rolls at Stop and
Squeak. They're awful!""
I was about to ask Rickety what he
thought about the cherry cheese danish,
when a mouse wearing an official-looking
suit held up his paw.
Everyone on the bridge grew silent.
“All marathon runners line up please”
the mouse squeaked into a megaphone.
Then he blew a horn so loud I nearly
jumped right out of my fur. The marathon
was starting!
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ON YOUR MARK,
G
ET SET ..... GO!!!
“On your mark, get set ... GO” the
official mouse yelled.
And we were off. I must admit, it was
incredible. Thirty-two thousand rodents
running all at once!
I took off along the bridge.
After a little while, we hit a sign that read
MILE ONE. I was so proud of myself. So far, I
didn’t feel tired at all.
I guess all those torturous mornings with
Champ had really PAID OFF.
On both sides of the road, the crowd
cheered us along.
“BRAVO BRAVO!” an old mouse with
white fur cried.
Mile1
“You can do it!” his friend added.
“Yippee!” A baby mouselet clapped her
paws.
Everyone wanted to see us run. I felt
like a real CELEBRITY . I pushed
my shoulders back and straightened my
scarf, just in case anyone wanted to take my
picture. You never know.
Some of the spectators carried signs.
They said things like, “Keep up the pace!”
Mile1
“You’re the best!” and “SHAKE A PAW
Grandma Beady Eyes!”
That last one gave me a tiny pang. I
wished my family could have been there to
cheer me on, too.
After three miles, I stopped at a water
station. Champ always told me how
important it is to drink liquids while you’re
exercising.
A smiling race assistant passed me a
Mile1
plastic cup of water.
Then he threw his paws
around my neck. At first,
I panicked. Was he trying
to strangle me? Was
he after my expensive
cheddar-colored scarf?
Then the mouse
squeaked in my ear,
“SURPRISE, Uncle!”
It was my nephew
Benjamin. “I’m here to
cheer you on. You’re
doing great!” he
cried.
Did I mention
I have
the
SWEETEST nephew
in the world?
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SNAP OUT OF IT!
After seeing Benjamin, I had new energy.
I ran and ran.
I was actually feeling OK. But after thirteen
miles, everything started to go downhill. No,
I’m not talking about the road. I’m talking
about yours truly. I felt awful!
My paws were heavier than two blocks
of my grouchy grandma Onewhisker’s fruit
cheesecakes. My knees were shaking.
And I had SPRAINED my tail.
I wanted to stop. I wanted to rest. I wanted
to check in to the nearest day spa and get a
two-hour massage.
Just then, the creepy rat with the beat-
up pickup truck pulled alongside of me. He
opened the door.
Mile13
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“Ready to give up? I’ll take you away,” he
smirked.
I was so scared that I took off again,
sobbing like a newborn mouselet.
“ I CAN´T DO IT I CAN´T DO IT” I wailed.
A familiar voice called out.
I stopped crying and opened my eyes
wide. Trap and Thea were standing right in
front of me.
In a flash, Trap shoved a thick piece
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of cheddar into my mouth. “The
mouse in the cheese shop told me
this cheddar has double the protein
of your ordinary cheese. You’d
better like it, Germeister. It cost me
a bundle,” he squeaked.
I gobbled down the cheese in one bite. It