"My name is Or and I am no athlete. I bought my last pair of sneakers eight years ago. I signed up for a gym twice, and both times I went for about a month and paid for a year. I work mostly in psychology, therefore my principal physical activity at work consists of nodding. I am no athlete, but in less than a year I plan to run the marathon. Something in me will change, and the tale of that change will be told here every week."

These are the words of Or Ezrati, a 32-year-old Tel Aviv psychologist, in his prologue to his weekly column on the Shvoong Web site. He tells his long journey from his first short jog in his neighborhood, about six months ago, through the finish line of the Paris marathon in 52 columns that show anyone can (but certainly does not have to) do it.

Before leaving for the Paris marathon, Ezrati told how it all began. This first run took eight painful minutes, after which he waited for his neighbor to finish his own prolonged run, certain this was their first and last run. But then the neighbor had a surprise.

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"My neighbor is a key figure in this story," says Ezrati. "His name is Nir Barak, and he is the CEO and owner of Shvoong, which runs a Web site and organizes and produces sporting events. He was plotting a scheme - which I was not aware of at that time - but it centered around me."

Barak spent a long time searching for someone to head a long-term project that would turn a layman into an athlete on Shvoong's Web site. "I searched for someone who was not an athlete, but who would be willing to run, and would also be able to write about it," says Barak. "The neighbor downstairs was a perfect fit."

The two began training together, with Barak dragging Ezrati along, farther and faster. When Ezrati decided to accept the challenge - both to run and to write about it - he started reporting his experiences, both big and small, in his weekly column. Among these experiences he described the first time he tasted protein snacks and carbohydrate gel; Ran Shilon, the coach who trained him for the marathon; and his first race, the 10-kilometer Ein Gedi race.

The column began in May 2006, and drew a following of readers faster than Ezrati could run. "Suddenly he became this sort of Forrest Gump, who started running and found a crowd of runners behind him," says Barak. "He became a running celebrity, people would stop him in the street and during races, and ask questions."

Ezrati says he knew nothing about the world he was entering. "When I first talked to Shilon, the coach, he asked me what my goal was, and I asked him if we needed a goal. He said we did. I suggested half a marathon in two years; he said I would be running the full thing in a year. Later he told me I would have to train early in the morning five days a week, that I would also have to go to the gym to become stronger, and that I would have to use a pulse monitor, buy new shoes, wear spandex, and the best joke was that I would have to completely change my diet. My answer was 'no' on all counts."

Still, Ezrati joined Shilon's team, and on a winter morning, at 6:30 A.M, he found himself entering a gym for his first workout. "Since then I have been diligently following all the instructions, of course," he says.

There were many difficulties, and not all of them obvious. "My friends began feeling that they were losing me, as if I had joined a cult," says Ezrati. "I really have changed a lot, but the essential me remained, and everyone got used to it in the end." The changes he is talking about, besides added muscles and lost fat, are internal. "I am less grumpy these days, I sleep better, I feel better with myself," he says. "I grew, and I became aware of other sides of me. However, I still cannot come to terms with the idea that my body is capable of running a marathon."

A week after returning from Paris, after he completed his first marathon in 3 hours and 22 minutes, Ezrati says he did not feel euphoria, but rather satisfaction. "On the 36th kilometer my left leg began to cramp, then my right one, and I simply stepped to the side and started walking," he says. "I took the malfunction in stride, because in any case it never seemed plausible to me that I could actually run a marathon." But then, after several minutes of walking, Ezrati felt he could run again. "I went back to the track and started running. Slowly."

In his April 15 column, "A non-athlete runs the marathon," Ezrati writes about the end of the adventure. "Of the last five kilometers I hardly remember a thing. It seems that all my mental and physical energy was bent on reaching the finish line. I remember waking from my delirium to hear my love shouting '500 meters to go,' lifting my head up and seeing the finish line. Then remembering coach Shilon and trying to choose the best pose for the photo finish, but passing the photographers before making up my mind. Then the carpet, the medal, and a man who looked like a shoe-shiner with a box cutter removing the chip from my shoe. I'm starting to walk slowly, in small flat steps, as slow as I can. Never in my life have I felt such great joy from simply walking slowly."