At about five o� clock and Harry went for a walk around the marathon course. He went past Ron as he walked up the hill. Ron�s pace had slowed a bit, but he said he was feeling good.

Harry looked down on the town from the top of the hill. Everything had slowed down after a tiring day in the sun. Just a small and very slow stream of runners remained in the race. Few of them were able to overtake Harry as he walked down the hill on the grass, and then back onto �tarmac� again � it was really just one big pothole punctuated by the odd bit of road.

As he walked past one of the sheds at the edge of town, he thought he heard a voice. The shed looked as if it had been abandoned years earlier. He went over to it and listened, and a few seconds later he heard the words, �Danke schön, thank you for your time.� There was a small window at the front of the shed. The glass was covered in dust and he couldn�t see clearly through it, but he were able to make out the small figure of a man. Harry asked him if he was okay in there and he just repeated what he had said. Harry walked on and returned to the shop.

The man in the shed was Alexander. He had been living there for nearly sixty years. When he first went into the shed he removed the floorboards to get at the soil beneath, and ever since then he�s been living off the land - eating weeds, mushrooms, earthworms and spiders.

The only piece of furniture in the shed was a chair, and he passed the time sitting on the chair or digging the soil. In 1955 he dug up a bicycle chain, and ever since then the chain has been another hobby, apart from a brief period between August 1968, when he buried the chain to pass the time after getting bored with just looking at it, and April 1969, when he dug it up after he got bored with just his chair.

In 1971 he started digging a tunnel, but he stopped when he realised he didn�t want to go anywhere. He was happy with his chair and his chain. The tunnel ended just beneath the street outside. Sometimes he�d take his chair into the tunnel and sit there for days. Some days he�d sit in front of the small window and look out, and on one day in 1973, he saw two women passing by outside. One of them was Susanne, who used to visit her cousins a lot when she was young, and her parents always came away with a jar of jam. She got the idea that that�s what cousins do � they make jam. She used to think about that a lot as they drove away from their cousins� place in the evening. She has many memories of driving through country roads in the evening sun. The sight of trees and ditches and shadows flying by is intimately connected with jam in her mind. She often liked to remember those days later in life when she wanted to forget about her problems. Over time, she began to think that the solution to all of life�s problems could be found in the speed of jam. She determined the speed of jam through numerous experiments, but she still didn�t have the answers to life�s problems. At first she thought that she needed a more accurate measurement of the speed, so she continued with the search. But as she fine tuned her experiments, she wasn�t getting any closer to solving life�s problems. She started to think that the answer to those problems lay in the speed of cousins rather than the speed of jam, so she abandoned the jam experiments and started measuring the speed of her cousins instead.

On that day in 1973, Susanne was walking by the shed with one of her cousins, Betty. She had been measuring the speed of Betty for the previous few weeks, and Betty was turning out to be much quicker than either of them expected. Betty wasn�t happy with these results. She always considered herself to be a very laid back, relaxed person, but these results didn�t fit in with that image at all. There was still another week of measurement left before Susanne came up with an average speed, so Betty was trying to move as slowly as possible during that time. She moved extremely slowly as she walked by the shed with Susanne. It took them over an hour to pass by. Alexander looked out at them until he couldn�t see them any longer. Ever since then he�s been fascinated by the speed of people as they pass by his shed.

On the day of the marathon he was sitting in the tunnel in silence until the athletes passed by overhead. He had never heard so many people pass by before. He immediately left the tunnel and looked out at the race through the window. He was fascinated by all those people passing by, and all at different speeds too. It was like an overload to his senses, and as the afternoon went on he became disturbed by the sight. He was afraid that someone might try to come in, so he started talking to the runners just to let them know that the shed was occupied. He had spent the entire day looking out, occasionally saying something, but as evening approached, the crowd passing by began to thin, and he began to relax. He was able to enjoy the sight of people passing by again, and especially the ones in the evening, because they all moved so slowly. He hasn�t seen anyone move as well as Ron since Betty in 1973

When Harry got back to the shop, Barbara asked him about what happened to Beatrice and Cuchalain, and he continued his history of Ireland.

The History of Ireland, Chapter 6. Translated from English by Harry Edwards.
The marriage of Cuchulain and Beatrice got off to a bit of a rocky start. They were both only sixteen at the time, although if their parents had been free to count, he�d have been twenty-six and she�d have been twenty-eight. He realised that she was just too much of a free spirit for him � he was in jail at the time. The British convicted him of counting sheep. When he was released he began to realise that they weren�t entirely compatible. She had a great love of migraines and tedium, whereas he loved adventure, and counting things.

On a typical day, Beatrice and Cuchulain would stand in the woods. Cuchulain would smoke a cigarette, looking restless, as Beatrice pointed out all the woodland flora and fauna.

�That�s a squirrel, and that tree is a Watson, and that rabbit is a squirrel, and there�s a different Watson...�

�For God�s sake, woman, would you just choose the one you want and let�s go.�

I suppose you could say he was just too much of a free spirit for her. But they saved their marriage by agreeing to spend as little time together as possible. He started hanging around with his nationalist friends - people like that guy in Braveheart. Now there was a real nationalist. He�d be off all day practising his nationalism while his poor wife was at home washing the potatoes, collecting the potatoes from school, taking the potatoes to the doctor�

An hour later, Harry was on to chapter 14: �...she came down from the tree and said she saw Nixon from the tree. We all laughed and said it was impossible. Even Nixon laughed. But he wasn�t laughing when Watership Down came out. And that�s basically all of Irish history since God-knows-when. Only God and the British really know how many years all that encompasses.�

�And don�t the French ever get tired of the Prussians using their mobile phones?� Barbara asked.

�No, the Prussians have learnt to use their own mobile phone now. We�re slowly coaxing them into the 20^th century.�

�21^st,� Barbara corrected him.

�We�ll hardly live that long.�

�It�s strange how I�ve never heard of a lot of these things before,� Barbara said. �And I always thought I was good at history in school.�

�They have a different approach to the facts in schools. My approach is completely unique, so many of the historical facts will sound different when I talk about them.�

�Oh, okay,� she said in a patronising voice.

�What do you mean, �Oh, okay.� Are you suggesting that my knowledge of Irish History isn�t entirely accurate?�

�Well, yes. And I�ve never met anyone outside Mizzenwood who�s heard of Watson�s Day.�

�That�s outrageous. That�s, that�s� Sorry, what were you suggesting again?�

Barbara looked at her watch. �It�s time for the news now. I heard there was going to be a report about Ron Mitchell on it.�

She turned on the TV, just as the newsreader was reading the headlines, �In the news this evening, it�s just been announced that the Taoiseach [Prime Minister] has broken the world record for the most single-syllable words in succession in one sentence. In America, a 62-year-old woman gives birth to a 35-year-old man. And a 40-year-old man runs in a marathon despite having no feet, one lung and a teapot stuck to his neck.�

�I didn�t know he only had one lung and a teapot stuck to his neck,� Barbara said.

�Neither did I. That must be why he�s wearing the scarf. I better go and see how he�s doing.� Harry got up and went into the shop. Barbara continued watching the TV.

The newsreader said, �We�re joined live now by the Taoiseach. Taoiseach, congratulations on your new world record. How do you feel about it?�

�I�m ah, very, ahh, glad, ahhh, at this, ah, this, ahhh, and I�m, ahh...�

As Harry came into the shop, Roy was looking out of the window, holding a shotgun.

�Like an antelope...� he said, trying to aim.

�Roy, no!�

�...oblivious to the eye of the hunter.�

�Don�t shoot!� Harry grabbed the gun from Roy, and then looked out the window. Ron was having some difficulties with his pace and direction. �Forward Ron, forward!� Harry shouted out at him. �No, that way.�

When Harry returned to the living room, Barbara was staring at the TV. The Taoiseach was still talking: �...then, ah, re, ahh, then mi, ahhh, then, ah, fa, ah, then sol, ah, then, ah, it was, ahhh...�

�It�s not looking so good, Barbara,� Harry said. �Ron fainted down the left side of his body. He�s just going around in circles now.� Barbara continued to stare at the television, not noticing what Harry had said. �Barbara? Are you listening, Barbara?�

�He�s so graceful, like an antelope. So effortless...� she said, entranced.

�Barbara, no! Speak to me...� Harry turned off the television. �Barbara, say something.�

She slowly came out of her trance. �Oh God, I nearly got sucked into that.�

�I thought I�d lost you there for a second. Thank God I was able to get you out early.�

�Did you say something about Ron?�

�Yeah. At the pace he�s going at now, I don�t think he�ll make it around by midnight.�

�Damn. What are we going to do?�

�There�s nothing we can do.�

Barbara thought about the problem for a while. �There�s nothing we can do, but maybe there�s something the doctor could do.�

�Oh yeah,� Harry said. �I think I know what you mean.� Believe it or not, he really did know what she meant.

In the evening, as the sun began to set and the occasional star appeared in the cloudless sky, the street was deserted apart from the occasional race official. As Roy stood in front of the window, staring out into the stillness of the evening, Harry and Barbara talked to the doctor behind him. �Is there anything you could give Ron, just to help him along?� Harry said.

�What do you mean?�

�Y� know, maybe something you could put in his drink, to give him a bit of a boost. I wouldn�t ask, it�s just that I hate seeing my brother like this. A few minutes ago he was reciting James Brown lyrics.�

�The James Brown stage! I�ve only ever read about that in the textbooks.�

�Please help us, Doctor. For Roy�s sake. I�m not sure how much longer he can last, and at the rate Ron is going it�ll take him ages to finish the race.�

�Ye do realise that performance-enhancing drugs are illegal?�

�Yeah,� Barbara said, �but who�s going to do a drug-test on a man with no feet?�

�Please,� Harry said. �Do it for Roy.�

�Okay, I�ll do it. But no one must ever hear about this. I�m doing it purely for the sake of your brother�s health.�

�Thank you, doctor. I�m sure my brother would thank you too, if he could.�

The doctor walked with Ron for a while, just to make sure he was okay, and before he left he handed Ron a water bottle that contained more than just water. It had an amazing effect on him, as Harry and Barbara observed from the window of the shop, where they stood next to Roy. It was nearly midnight. Roy hadn�t said anything in the past hour; he just stared blankly out of the window. Outside, the street was almost deserted. Just two race officials remained at the finishing line. Both looked as drained as Ron or Roy.

Harry was satisfied with Ron�s progress. �At this rate, he should just make it in time. Look at him, he�s flying along now.�

�Yeah, but he always has to stop for a while every few minutes, just to get his breath back,� Barbara said.

�He�s nearly there now, though. Go on Ron; one last push. Keep going.�

�He�s stopped again.�

�No! He�s just short of the line.�

�If he fell forward he�d cross the line.�

�Fall, Ron. Fall forward,� Harry shouted.

�It looks as if he doesn�t have the energy to fall.�

Harry looked at his watch. �Damn. Just thirty seconds left. I�m going to have to push him over. I�ll try to make this look as accidental as possible.� He left the shop and walked towards the finishing line at the end of the street. He did try to make it look accidental, but if truth be told, he failed miserably. But the truth was never to be told to anyone beyond Harry, Barbara, Roy or the doctor. No one questioned Harry�s accidental fall and inadvertent push on a man with no feet. The race officials were too desperate to get home to question anything. Martin had gone to bed, assuming Ron wouldn�t make it. As Ron fell over the line, Barbara cheered and Roy fainted.

Later that night in the living room, Harry and Barbara sat on the sofa. Roy sat on the armchair with a blanket around him.

�How are you feeling now, Roy?� Barbara asked.

�I can�t feel my legs.�

�Y� know, now that I think about it, that�s probably why they have the marathon on the day before Watson�s day,� Harry said. �I even lost some feeling in my own leg after you stabbed me with that compass.�

�Sorry about that. It was just an instinctive reaction when I saw Michael Bolton.�

�That�s okay. It does make you appreciate the value of your legs.�

�So do you think you�d ever do another marathon, Roy?� Barbara asked.

�No way. It was hell. And besides, it�s become too commercial. They�ve forgotten that it�s supposed to be about the antelope.�

It was nearly one o� clock in the morning. Watson�s Day had begun, and this seemed to inspire something in Harry. �One man who must really appreciate the value of legs is Ron Mitchell. Here we are sitting down, not even using our legs, and Ron has just run a marathon without any feet. We take our feet and legs for granted. It makes you see the real meaning of Watson�s Day.�

�Yeah,� Roy said. �What�s on TV?�

Barbara turned on the television. The Taoiseach was still talking, �...and, ah, I�ll, ahhh, I�m, ah, glad, ah, at this, ah, thing, and I�m, ah, I�ll, ah...�

�I have a sudden craving to have my brain amputated,� Roy said.

As Harry, Barbara and Roy fell asleep watching the Taoiseach, the whole town fell into a state of silence and stillness, at the end of a day that had exploded into life with a gunshot, with people running in pure joy at not being the target of that gunshot (the target was Elvis, but Mayor Pony missed). All kinds of people: young and old; animal, vegetable and deceased politician. This fine day had gradually ground to a halt as the ranks of the runners thinned, as the light faded, to leave a town of still and silent people.

In the shed, Alexander was able to relax again and return to what he most wanted to do: sitting. He hadn�t thought about his legs in over twenty years and wasn�t about to start now, but he was happy.