Escape Reality Challenge

Between weather and training, I haven't exactly been getting the wilderness experience I've been striving to achieve during the TentMan Experience.
This could also be blamed on my hectic work schedule.

Pitched at Penny's last night, again. She's been very hospitable these last few days!

I simply don't have time to get out there...yet. My work schedule should be easing up next week.

It's like I'm a caged beast right now.
The more I work, and the more obligations that stack up, the more it makes me want to up the level of craziness when I'm finally free of it all.

These crazy ideas get into my head. Epic thoughts with no limits that take me away from the real world for an extremely long time.

This would be...in my opinion, the best event in the world:

I'll start at the Northern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail, Mt. Katahdin, and run all the way to Atlantic City via appalachian trail, at which point, I get into a drinking contest with the whole cast of Jersey Shore and handily win after 25 shots of vodka in an hour.
Sleep for a few hours, then mount my bike and do the whole Race Across America course backwards, and end up in California.

My bike, which will be absolutely near-junk after biking through 3 different F4 tornadoes in the midwest, and a scary descent on a washed-out road on the continental divide, will be tossed in the garbage and traded for a wetsuit, with which I'll use to swim north up the coast of the Pacific Ocean...all the way into Puget Sound.

Ditching the suit, because of its holes from a battle with a young killer whale, I'll bushwack up to Mt. Rainier, and fashion a hanglider from the frame of my backpack and some tarps.
It'll be a scenic ride as I catch thermals all the way up to the summit of Mt. Mckinley, and a dangerous trek down to the Aleutian Islands via snowshoe and skis. To stay warm, I'll have to wrestle a polarbear and steal it's fur.

This wins much respect from the Inuit, and they give me a homemade canoe, so that I may paddle over to Russia.

The Russians don't appreciate my unannounced landing, so I do 1 year in a gulag, where I complete 5,000 pushups and sit-ups every day. I get extra cycling in because they need someone to pedal the bike hooked up to their electrical turbine for 10 hours a day so that they may have electricity.

Getting my last name mixed with my birthplace, the Russians deport me to Poland, where I am forced to steal a Razor scooter and a backpack from a little kid. I push that thing through Romania and into Greece, stopping at Sparta to pay homage to Leonidas for being The Man, then hurl myself into the Mediteranean and swim to Egypt.

I backpack across the African plains, and hook up with a tribe of persistence hunters. All of their best runners have come up lame, and now they need someone to help run down the largest Kudu in the area. After 60 miles of running at sub-7 minute pace in the 110 degree heat, I hop on the kudus back and break off an antler...using it to stab the animal in the heart. After a massive feast and celebration, I must go. They accompany me to the Altantic coast where I will row to South America.

Pirates try to rob me as I leave the shore, but they are no match for my twin Kudu horn-swords...a prize the tribal group gave me for such a brave kill.
Knowing I'm on the home-stretch, the Atlantic row seems easy, and I guide my boat directly into the end of the Amazon. I ditch my boat and I'm forced to swim against the current, all the way to the source. Pirahnas take nibbles and one toe, but no major school attacks.

I orienteer myself from the source of the Amazon all the way to the Yucatan Peninsula, where I don some scuba gear and swim, underwater, into the Gulf Of Mexico.

Oil plumes cloud my navigation, so I swim, against their current, all the way to the gushing hole of BP.
By wearing some rubber gloves, tying 23 electric eels together, and using some iron ore from the sea floor, I'm able to weld the hole shut easily in less than an hour.

As I come to the surface, I'm greeted by a fishing boat. Because I've saved their industry, they are more than willing to give me a ride to Key West, where I find Jimmy Buffett. He declares my event over, I eat a Cheeseburger In Paradise, and then spend the rest of the year sitting on the beach drinking Margaritas.

*blink* oh, time to go to work.
Maybe next year....