The Mouse Island Marathon Read online

  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.

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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!r />
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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