PORTLAND, OR — Local man Ben Carter, 29, set out on a routine morning jog Sunday but somehow ended up running 13 miles in an official half-marathon, despite having no prior knowledge of the event.

According to Carter, he was simply “going for a light run” when he noticed a large crowd of runners moving in the same direction. “At first, I just thought, ‘Wow, Portland’s really into jogging today,’” he said. “Then I saw a guy in a banana costume pass me and figured something weird was happening.”

Unintentional Athleticism

Carter, unaware he had stumbled into the city’s annual Bridge to Brews Half-Marathon, kept pace with the runners, assuming they were part of a particularly well-organized jogging club.

“I saw water stations and people cheering, and I thought, ‘Man, this is the most supportive neighborhood ever.’ Some guy even handed me a protein gel. I didn’t want to be rude, so I ate it,” Carter explained.

By mile six, he began to suspect something was off. “I heard someone behind me say, ‘Almost halfway there!’ and I thought, ‘Halfway to what?’ That’s when I saw a big banner that said ‘Half-Marathon Route’ and realized I had made a terrible mistake.”

A Race Against Common Sense

At that point, Carter had two choices: stop running and awkwardly explain himself, or just commit. He chose the latter.

“I figured, well, I’ve already made it this far. Plus, people were clapping for me, and honestly, I didn’t want to let them down,” he said. “So I just kept going. I think that’s how peer pressure works.”

Despite having no training, questionable footwear (he was wearing old Converse sneakers), and a growing sense of existential confusion, Carter powered through the remaining miles.

“I felt surprisingly good around mile eight. Then around mile ten, my legs started asking, ‘Hey, what are we doing?’ By mile twelve, they just quit talking to me altogether.”

The Finish Line and Unexpected Rewards

Carter ultimately crossed the finish line in an impressive one hour and 58 minutes—good enough to place in the top third of all runners. Race officials, unaware of his accidental participation, handed him a finisher’s medal, a free T-shirt, and several bananas.

“I didn’t have the heart to tell them I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Carter admitted. “So now I guess I’m a marathon guy?”

Newfound Identity Crisis

Following the race, Carter found himself in a strange predicament: “I don’t know if I should be proud or worried. What if I’m, like, a secret athlete and I just never knew?”

Friends have encouraged him to sign up for an official race, but Carter remains unsure. “The only reason I finished was because I was too embarrassed to stop. If real marathons work the same way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Until then, he plans to stick to shorter runs—far away from any suspiciously well-organized jogging groups.