I don't care that this site is turning into a bunch of youtube links; you need to watch this one. . . Because Radiohead is good for stuck marathoners. The balding, disheveled running man who goes hands-to-ground after his anerobic work; I mean the guy with the wife-beater tee shirt and the matches that have the fetus on the cover, him, he represents me, us--taking it to his mortality, that fucked-up pursuing car symbolizing life's stagnant PRs, life's finality, with a blanched, sickly Thom Yorke playing the part of the angel of death in the back seat. Keep running, everyone. Don't give up; you aren't done yet.