1986: My Happy Life in Provence

Chapter 573 Not a Single One Missing
A few minutes after leaving the supply point, Ronan saw Lourmaran Castle again, but this time he was looking down at it instead of looking up.

Luberon is a mountainous area, with the elevation rising to some extent as you move away from the valley center of the village.

This stage not only offers a panoramic view of Lourmaran from a high vantage point, but also provides runners with opportunities to observe the situation before and after the race.

Marseille was Ronan's longtime partner. The two of them had been running together for several months. Marseille's addition helped Ronan regain his previous pace, allowing him to overtake many runners ahead. Looking ahead using the terrain, he was probably in the top 20%.

But looking back, that's where the real excitement begins.

The path separating the vineyards was covered with strangely brightly colored little figures, stretching for several kilometers, while the first supply point, no bigger than a matchbox, was still bustling with people in the distance.

"No rush at all," Ronan said, turning around to encourage Marseille and himself. "Let's try to get a good result today."

The vast majority of Provençal locals didn't take the competition seriously at all, while some locals who wanted to play well were distracted by the costumes, food, wine, and women.

With Marseille by his side, every athlete would notice Ronan's presence, and the huge Stuttgart logo on his chest would certainly attract a lot of attention.

If you can achieve a relatively good result among amateur athletes, you'll get even more attention.

Marseille seemed to understand Ronan's encouragement, and her little paws moved even faster, as if she was ready to show off her skills, looking even more excited than during her usual morning run.

Ronan laughed and blocked it with his body:
"No, no, no, we won't start here. We'll try again after we leave the next supply point."

The theme of the next supply point is rosé wine.

Those are the rights written in black and white in the sponsorship contract.

Running a marathon on flat ground is already exhausting, and this is the only section with a slightly higher altitude.

The reason for setting up the supply point here is that the Stella Winery is right overhead.

The third aid station had no performances or temporary stage set up; there were only a few Stellar guys scattered around the aid station, giving the runners information about Stellar.

People who choose to rest here and drink the complimentary chilled rosé wine would feel bad if they didn't listen to a few words.

People eating here have nothing better to do than listen to this.

The guys' daily job is to take tourists on picnics in the vineyards and introduce them to Stanford.

They introduced the market share of St. Strasbourg rosé in Provence to the contestants;

This section introduces the location of the soon-to-be-built new Stesgar winery and information about the castle winery located higher up on the mountaintop, connected to Stesgar.

Introduce the goals for this harvest in Jestrasga and how much improvement is expected compared to this year;
Stella Arte plans to collaborate with local artists, celebrities, and singers in Provence to launch customized, autographed, original barrel special bottles, special art bottle designs, and co-branded products.

The description mentions a vineyard in St. St. Gauche on the north side of the hillside, where the 'Merlot' grape, which has never appeared or become popular in Provence, is being cultivated.
It explains how the northern slope obtained government funding for the "experimental field" and the extent of government support.

The contestants, who initially just wanted to take a break or were too embarrassed to leave, were left speechless.

Besides having their mouths full of delicious food like pasta, steak, and roast chicken, they were also surprised that a rosé winery could tell so many 'stories'.

Looking at the pink liquid in my hand again, some of my preconceived notions began to waver—so rosé wine has become so popular in Provence?

It shouldn't be fake, right?
Look, this pink winery is so rich that it sponsors a marathon.

Ronan entered the supply point and quietly made his way around, discovering that Stella, who hadn't even started brewing yet, already had so many things that were 'presentable'.

This is something to be so proud of!
Moreover, the contestants' reactions were quite good; no one left grumbling or insulting rosé wine as something immoral.

This is probably the meaning of "he who drinks another's food is bound to him".

In such hot weather, the players will definitely rush to the ladies when they enter the supply point; right now, rosé wine is their 'lifeline'.

"This sponsorship was a huge success," Ronan thought with immense joy.

The existing rights and the additional rights temporarily granted by Blanco will surely make everyone who came to participate today remember the name of Stella. So the next task is to make them remember him as well.

From this point on, he's going to take the game seriously!
Marseille was very excited today. It was particularly restless when Ronan 'inspected' the supply point, and Ronan had no choice but to let it roam freely.

Now that he wants to leave, Ronan needs to find out where his 'partner' is.

Finding a partner didn't take much time, because wherever Marseille was, there would always be a group of people around.

Ronan once again found his partner near the supply table.

Meanwhile, its partner is munching on a sandwich, while cheese, roast chicken, bacon, and watermelon await it on its head.

Marseille ate a sandwich in three times the speed, then snatched the chicken leg that a kind person had given him.

"What an adorable dog! What are you doing here?"

"What would you like to eat? I'll get it for you."

"It likes to eat chicken, did you notice? It just chose a chicken leg."

"Oh, so it ate two chicken legs?"

"This is at least the third chicken leg," Ronan said, stopping everyone from feeding the chicken.

He had been wondering just now that Zoe and his parents were cheering him on near the starting line. If Marseille had started running at that time, he should have caught up with him much earlier.

Ronan entered each of the previous supply points and stayed there for a long time.

Clearly, something was blocking its way.

“I don’t know how much Cornell has eaten so far, but you’ve certainly eaten a lot.” Ronan bent down and touched Marseille’s belly, which looked like she was three months pregnant and about to give birth. “So your excitement today isn’t because you’re going to compete with me, but because you know there’s an endless supply of food ahead.”

Last night at the dinner party, Ronan viciously cursed the gluttonous athletes who were indulging in their food—even if their stomachs were as strong as blenders, they wouldn't be able to run 42 kilometers after eating so much food.

Okay, now the curse has rebounded.

Although Ronan strictly forbade Marseille from eating any food at the subsequent aid stations, only giving it appropriate water, Marseille's speed noticeably slowed down when they reached about 15 kilometers, and it gradually showed signs of 'giving up'.

It went from running to brisk walking, then back to walking, and finally Ronan had to nudge it with his leg before it would take a few steps.

Ronan pessimistically believes that Marseille's next step will be to learn from Huhu and lie on the ground, unable to get up.

He stopped and pointed to the tents faintly visible ahead, encouraging Marseille:

"Just run there, and I'll have a volunteer call Zoe to come pick you up and take you home, okay? It's only a few steps, keep going!"

Although the competition has only just begun, there have been people dropping out at every aid station.

According to volunteers, more than 200 people have dropped out of the race so far, and they estimate that it would be good if two-thirds of them could finish the race.

With such a high withdrawal rate, it wouldn't be shameful for Marseille to go home.

But this place is in the middle of nowhere, so if Marseille went on strike here, he really wouldn't be able to handle it.

Now all we can do is beg this little devil to run a few more steps and rest in a crowded place.

"Come on, Marseille! Come on, you can do it!" Ronan used both hands and feet to support Marseille's bottom to prevent it from sitting down, while using his legs to support its body and help it take a few steps.

A runner passed by behind, and seeing Ronan's appearance and hearing his words of encouragement, he slowed down to encourage Marseille as well.

"Don't give up! Look, even your 'partner' hasn't given up on you, how can you give up first?"

Another person overtook them and encouraged them:

"Yes, don't give up. Go ahead and rest for a while. It's okay to rest a little longer. Take your time and walk slowly to the supply point."

At the second aid station, the guy who was helping Marseille qualify for the race also overtook them. Seeing this, he politely asked Ronan:

"Do you need help? Can we carry it over together?"

Ronan assessed the distance as about 500 meters, which wasn't far.

After assessing Marseille's weight, it was found to be over 40 kilograms, much lighter than Batistuta.

If Cornell could carry Batty up 100 steps, how could he not do it?

"No need, thank you." Ronan lifted Marseille with a standard deadlift motion and continued the race. "I'll carry him over."

Although the game resumed, Ronan couldn't run very fast while carrying Marseille, and he was also worried that if he ran too fast, Marseille would vomit all over the place.

One by one, the competitors behind him overtook him, many of whom were people he had met briefly in previous stages of the race.

Everyone who passes by them leaves a word of encouragement.

"Dude, you're so cool!"

"God, you are so great, why don't you abandon your partner?"

"Almost there! Keep going, keep going, don't give up!"

Running 500 meters with a 40-kilogram load was nothing for Ronan; he didn't even pant heavily. But as soon as he stepped into the aid station, volunteers brought him a chair, and as if by magic, cheese, bread, roast chicken, bacon, and fruit appeared before his eyes, treating him like he was in Marseille.

Everyone rushed to hand him water and rosé wine; the concerned gazes around him were practically scorching Ronan.

"How are you feeling? Are you tired? Take a rest!"

"Is anything bothering you? Do you need to call a doctor?"

"Eat something to replenish your energy, have some."

Ronan, worried that if he was too slow, Marseille would snatch the chicken leg from him, took a bite. He really needed to replenish his energy.

"Thank you, I'm fine, you don't need to worry."

Several oddly dressed men gesticulated wildly and said:
"You are so great, my friend. I'm sure your dog will be proud to have an owner like you."

"Yes, we will never leave each other and will always be there for each other. Although I didn't see you encouraging me with tears in your eyes, I can understand that feeling."

I was moved to tears when I heard your stories!

Wait, wait, wait!

Ronan found something was off the more he listened.

But when you think about how this is Provence, a place known for its embellished stories, everything seems to make sense.

To this day, many villagers in Lourmaran still believe that Ronan’s toilet was designed by Michael Jordan.

After exchanging a few nonsensical words with everyone, Ronan found the volunteer at the supply point, an elderly woman with a full head of white hair.

Before Ronan could speak, the old woman wiped away her tears and said:
“I used to have a Wirehaired dog. It was a very affectionate little guy. It would always wait for me at the bathroom door when I went to the bathroom. The way it looked at me is unforgettable. But it's been 14 years since it left, and I can hardly remember what it looks like anymore. Thank you. I think I see its shadow in your dog. Don't worry, in this '42.195-meter Happy Journey,' there are no rules, no competition format, only an unforgettable journey. You can carry your dog to complete the rest of the competition, and it will also get a place. I swear to you.”

Ronan almost threw the chicken leg in his hand away.

When did I ever say I was going to carry it through the rest of the game, ma'am?

I'm here to ask you to call my wife and bring her home!
In just a few minutes, the news of the master-servant relationship between Ronan and Marseille, which was even more "unforgettable" than anything depicted in a Qiong Yao drama, spread throughout the supply point.

The contestants stopped watching the show and the girls; they all went to watch Ronan, this great man.

The atmosphere has been built up to this point, and Ronan's character has been established.

He knew very well that carrying Marseille for the remaining 20-plus kilometers would be incredibly difficult, let alone achieving a good result, but he still picked up Marseille amidst cheers and applause and embarked on the journey again like a great hero.

Ronan glanced down at Marseille, who was leaning against him, her eyes half-closed in comfort, and said speechlessly:
"You've actually helped out, kid. Not only can I not scold you, but I should also thank you for attracting my attention, okay? I'll try my best to get you to the finish line so you can get a plaque."

Ronan wasn't the only one who put in the effort.

Marseille also passively paid the price for several months, being dragged out by Ronan for "military training" every day.

Today, he should also be given an ending to encourage all those who have made sacrifices.

Ronan threw himself into the race with the determination to get Marseille to the finish line.

The 20km checkpoint is in pretty good condition. As long as I rest for a while at each aid station, there shouldn't be any major problems.

At the 25km checkpoint, the sun was blazing, and it was not only unbearably hot, but my stomach was also starting to rumble. After replenishing my supplies, I continued on the course.

At the 30km checkpoint, the sun burned fiercely on his skin. Although he had just drunk a lot of water, his throat and mouth quickly became parched. Sweat blurred his vision, and he wondered if Marseille had just secretly eaten something again because it had gotten heavier. But thankfully, more and more people knew their 'story' and sent encouragement and blessings, so Ronan gritted his teeth and continued.

35km checkpoint.

Running 10 kilometers with a load is much more difficult than I imagined.

Although there were still more than 7 kilometers left, Ronan was really reaching his limit.

My legs felt weak, and I experienced occasional nausea.

Ronan could stop at any moment, ending this 'happy journey', as he went from sprinting to jogging, and then from jogging to brisk walking.

"We might not make it to the finish line," Ronan said to Marseille with a smile.

They're in a 'life-or-death' relationship now; they should at least tell their partner before withdrawing from the competition.

Marseille rested her head on Ronan's face, hummed like a child, and curled her tail, as if blaming herself.

Regardless of whether this was an act or not, Ronan felt sorry for her.

"It's alright, we'll try again next year." Ronan gradually stopped, lowered his hands, and was about to put Marseille on the ground.

The next second, a pair of wings appeared in his peripheral vision.

A player dressed as a 'bumblebee' used his wings to catch the Marseille from Ronan's hands:
"I'll hold it, you rest for a while."

Before Ronan could react to what was happening, another hand appeared on his back.

A contestant dressed as one of the dwarfs from Snow White pushed Ronan forward from behind:
"We're almost at the finish line, buddy! Hang in there, don't give up!"

Ronan felt incredibly tall and mighty at that moment.

Donald Duck, the Princess and the Pea, Poseidon, and even Arafat have all lent a helping hand to Ronan and Marseille.

But everyone has to finish their own competitions, and the help is only temporary; they will soon have to part ways with Ronan.

Ronan took a breath, but he was still very tired. His speed dropped drastically, and in the last 3 kilometers, he was almost at the very end.

Just as he was jokingly telling Marseille, "As long as you're not last, it's a victory,"—his hands went empty, and the Marseille in his hands was gone.

Turning around again, Cornell, the chubby boy in clown makeup, appeared.

“I’ve heard about your exploits for a long time, God, I thought I’d never run into you and Marseille.” Cornell’s face was as red as a tomato.

Ronan asked in surprise:

"You're still competing? I thought you guys had withdrawn!"

Although the farmers are amateurs, they are all physically strong.

Ronan went from the top 20% to the bottom, with thousands of players surpassing him, but not a single villager from Lourmaran saw him.

The only explanation for this phenomenon is that they all withdrew from the competition!

“How could he possibly withdraw from the competition, Mr. Ronan!” Henry’s voice came from the other side of Ronan.

His sailor suit was soaked through, and his hair was wet and stuck to his head, making him look like a bald bird.

But when the big bird opens its beak, it still tastes the same:
"My goal was to win the 20 franc prize, but I was 'dragged down' by these guys. Oh well, at least we're all here now, so crossing the finish line together is a good outcome."

"Which guys?" Ronan was exhausted and his mind wasn't working very fast.

"It's us, it's us, Ronan!!"

Ronan turned around at the sound and saw several villagers from Lourmaran behind him, many of whom were on his list of 'impossible' contestants.

With all his might, Boge caught up with Ronan, clutching his aching back, and said breathlessly:

"Don't listen to Henry's nonsense. He can't even get a taste of the $20 prize money. Since we can't get first place anyway, we decided to get a different kind of 'first place,' an achievement that no one else can accomplish!"

"What achievement?" Ronan asked blankly.

“Let everyone finish the race! This is Lourmaran soil, and all Lourmaraners must finish the race!” Cornell said to Marseille, looking down at him. “You’re Marseille too, let’s cross the finish line together!”

Henry suddenly slowed down, gritting his teeth as he said:
"I was almost in first place!"

Ronan was still out of it when he turned around to see what Henry was going to do. Boge grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.

"Stop looking! Not a single one of the Lourmaraners who signed up for the race dropped out. They just fell behind. Even if we have to carry them, they all have to finish! It's even better now that we've joined you. Isn't this our usual 'morning training' lineup? Not a single one is missing, not even Marseille!"

Ronan's memory of the last three kilometers of that marathon is now very vague.

The surrounding scenery became blurred, the people in front of me became blurred, and even the final result of the competition became blurred.

Because his emotions, his heart, and his mind were completely filled with an emotion called pride and happiness.

Blanco said this was a completely different experience from other marathons, and it might change runners' perception of marathons.

Ronan believed the government had achieved its objective.

He never imagined that one day he would be running a marathon with a contorted face and panting like a giant box, but instead he wished time would slow down, just a little bit more.

He really loved the atmosphere at that moment.

(End of this chapter)