This article will deal with some spoilers regarding Avengers: Age of Ultron (and the 10 previous Marvel movies).

Sleeping through The Incredible Hulk is an incredibly difficult task.

It's a terrible movie. The whole point is to show how Edward Norton's Bruce Banner does not want to get excited. So we watch him breathe. We watch him look at 2008's version of a Fitbit. We watch him actively not seduce Liv Tyler's Betty Ross and not get angry.

We spend more time watching Bruce not do things than watching him rampage in his boisterous Hulk form. Yet thanks to an endless supply of tanks and a William Hurt who can only speak in triple decibels, the movie is still an assault on the senses.

I normally wouldn't try to sleep in a movie theater during an action movie. But it's the only option during the Ultimate Marvel Marathon — a 29-hour cinematic centipede of all 11 Marvel movies, from Iron Man to Avengers: Age of Ultron, played back to back to back.

The Marathon is equal parts dare, endurance test, and assertion of fan dominance. I yearned to see what kind of people can take days off of work to do this, and I was confident I could keep up with the sturdiest of Marvel fans.

So I went to King of Prussia, Pennsylvania, to show the superhero industrial complex I could take anything it threw at me.

And then the Marathon showed me the utter hubris of my decision.

Wednesday, before the Marathon

2:32 pm: Pennsylvania brims with borrowed names: Lebanon, Bethlehem, Athens, Berlin. King of Prussia, a suburb with the confidence to be a phrase instead of a name, is one of these places. The historical kings of Prussia had names like Frederick and William. King of Prussia, by contrast, was actually named after an inn whose owner wanted a name that sounds luxurious.

"King of Prussia is the best mall, lots of expensive stores," my Uber driver Devang tells me on the way there from Philadelphia. "It's so huge, man. Where do you want to get dropped off?"

Devang knows there's no draw to King of Prussia other than the mall. If you're in King of Prussia, you're probably in the mall, some expansion of the mall, or at the United Artists megaplex up the street from the mall.

My biggest fear about this Marathon is the availability of food that is a) not popcorn and b) not cooked in a microwave. In order to stave off hunger for as long as possible, I decided to get the full mall-food experience and go to the Cheesecake Factory.

The constant moans of Adele accompany my Cheesecake Factory meal for one (that could really feed four). Under any other circumstances, this might be a dark, depressing moment. But in preparation for a long stretch of time where popcorn is the best "meal" available, it's a welcome respite. A dinner-size pasta featuring sausage and shrimp could very well be the last non-theater food I eat for more than a day:

This $25 feast gave me the meat sweats, but it held me over until after midnight.

3:30 pm: The Marathon starts three hours before I expect it to.

Not long after my meal, I learn I am already behind the game. Scott, a friend undertaking the Marathon in New York, posts a picture of himself already seated in the theater on Facebook — hours before the Marathon was supposed to start.

I hadn't even begun my mile-long journey to the other side of the mall. I called the theater.

When I asked the woman who answered what time to arrive, she said I might already be too late. "There are at least 100 people here right now."

I hung up and began my walk.

This was three hours before the first movie. I didn't have a 29-hour marathon staring me in the face — I had a 32-hour one. When I got to the theater some 15 minutes later, I found out that it had reserved two auditoriums for the Marathon, and each one was already about 60 percent full.

People buzzed about Minecraft, gaming consoles, and what they thought would happen in Age of Ultron — a movie more than 24 hours away. People traded Avengers-themed 3D glasses and cup toppers (small figurines to place on commemorative cups) to get their favorite characters.

All that remained was to pick my seat — and to watch a day and a quarter's worth of movies.

3:50 pm: The worst people at the movies are the ones who come late, then ask fellow moviegoers to move over for them. But at Marvel Marathons, these people don't exist. The only people who exist are the ones who get there early, to grab the best seat.

I randomly sat down in front of Grant Hopkins. Hopkins and his friends had driven 45 minutes from New Jersey to the Marathon, and had gotten to the theater at 10 am to pick out some very specific seats, in the last row of the theater.

"We wanted this specific spot," Hopkins told me. He said he was looking for storage and leg space. "And if you didn't notice, that's the only outlet in the theater."

Hopkins and his friends let me use one of the plugs to charge my phone throughout the night. I'd later learn his seat selection was just one part of the plan.

"I took a lot of doubles — 16-hour shifts — in preparation," he told me, explaining that he worked in security. Hopkins also brought a Captain America shield that took five hours to make. I asked him why he chose a shield instead of a different Avengers object.

"Well, I couldn't make a suit of armor," he said.

6:25 pm: The first unexpected horror strikes.

Going into the Marathon, I had a vague strategy. I would invest in the $7 Avengers cup that would allow me free refills throughout the duration of the Marathon. I smuggled in a chocolate protein bar and a water bottle. I packed a pair of yoga pants, as spending 32 hours in real clothes did not make sense. These were all solid decisions.

But one thing I didn't expect or plan for: this Marathon would feature an emcee.

Our emcee worked to rev up the crowd and hand out posters for movies that came out years ago. In order to win these posters, you had to answer "trivia" questions and laugh at his jokes. I'm all for trivia. Trivia is fun. Trivia can teach you things.

This was not trivia.

"What is the name of the actor who plays Star Lord in Guardians of the Galaxy? That's the movie you just saw," he would ask us the next day.

This question, of course, is not "trivia," so much as it is "paying attention to the credits" or "having read an entertainment publication at any time in the past two years."

Imagine these questions happening after every other movie for 29 hours. Imagine this happening at 3:45 am.

6:45 pm: Iron Man (2008)

8:54 pm: Iron Man remains a wickedly good film. Even though it takes place in a world where MySpace is still a dominant cultural force, it holds up well. It's exhilarating to watch Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark. Seeing him fly in that armor suit for the first time is a joyous experience.

Just minutes after Iron Man finishes, the first audible belch is heard. It's a horn played before battle.

I wasn't expecting decorum. After all, everyone is ignoring their motor skills while digging into paper tubs of popcorn and slurping syrupy brown liquids out of bottomless plastic cups.

But this is the kind of belch that is only produced in the company of friends. Maybe we're all about to become friends, some sort of brothers and sisters in battle kind of thing. Probably not.

I change into yoga pants and take advantage of my first refill. I figured I need around four refills to turn the cup into an "investment", but I also want to be able to get to sleep. This, I decide, will be my final refill until 11 am.

The wardrobe change and soda pit stop don't last long enough. I catch the tail end of the emcee giving out old posters. He asks the audience to "dance" and "be excited," and says he'll only pick the most spirited fans to answer his "trivia."

All superhero tales need arch-nemeses. It seems I have found mine. (To be clear, I fully believe this man is probably a good man, and that he was just doing his job.)

9:15 pm: The Incredible Hulk

We've reached the Marathon's most daunting segment. The Incredible Hulk and Iron Man 2 — two of the weaker entries — show back to back. Since I can't sleep during The Incredible Hulk, I try to figure out how Edward Norton (as Bruce Banner) spends the entire movie passing out without being mugged or robbed.

11:12 pm: As it turns out, sleeping in a movie chair is aggressively uncomfortable.

The space in front of you is narrow, making it hard to stretch out your legs. The recline isn't forgiving. And the arms are too low to prop anything on — a terrible situation for side-sleepers.

11:30 pm: Iron Man 2

Hulk has battered me into submission. I somehow sleep through a good chunk of Iron Man 2 — my notebook is bare, my pen is on the ground, and I think I woke myself up with a snore. The one thing I remember is how disturbing I find Mickey Rourke's fingernails in this movie. Oh, and Black Widow's fight scene is fantastic.

Thursday

1:42 am: How lonely this entire exercise is — not just for those of us who attended solo, but also for people who came in groups. You don't talk much, other than say how it's going (not great). You sit quietly for another two hours (unless you're snoring), then repeat the whole sequence over again.

2:00 am: Thor

3:17 am: At least four people in my general vicinity snore during Thor. Still awake, I actually enjoy Thor because it feels like a little palate cleanser when flanked against the irreverence of the Iron Man movies. The Asgardians' long, Shakespearean monologues contrast nicely with the sharp, terse pace of Iron Man's characters.

The true star of these movies is Tom Hiddleston's Loki, who slithers into every crag of the film, weaving a veil of deceit and discontent that underscores the entire movie. Even when Thor has won, you feel like his winning moment could slip out of his grasp at any time. That's how potent Hiddleston is.

4:12 am: The theater announces concession sales will halt for one hour between 5:15 and 6:15 am so cash registers can be reset. This is hopefully the first and last time I'm ever at a theater long enough to hear this warning.

The staff members at United Artists are saints. They could have easily been cranky, considering the hours they were working, but they smiled, filled up our gigantic cups with more high-fructose corn syrup and our tubs with more popcorn, then sent us on our way to tackle the beast.

4:13 am: The emcee returns. He wants to "get us pumped" ... at 4:13 am. This is somehow not a nightmare.

4:15 am: Captain America: The First Avenger

4:39 am: Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) is one of the best things about Captain America: The First Avenger, and I don't think I realized it when I watched it the first time. Captain America felt like filler to me back when I first saw it. I couldn't take emaciated Chris Evans seriously, the hyper-nostalgic stylizing didn't sit well with me, and the villains weren't charismatic.

I doubt Marvel planned it this way, but you gain a whole new appreciation for this film when you've watched Agent Carter and Captain America: Winter Solider. You begin to relish the time you see Atwell on screen, and you start analyzing Steve Rogers's (Evans) relationship with Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan) more closely, looking for hints of Bucky's later villainy. You also realize how changed Steve is in later movies, how scarred he is by being taken from his time and deposited in ours.

4:47 am: How much better would this be if we subbed in a few episodes of Agent Carter for some of the weaker entries in the Marathon?

4:57 am: The world has sped up. Time and the calendar have no meaning. There is only the screen.

6:45 am: The Avengers

6:50 am — 8:30 am: Somewhere between The Avengers and Iron Man 3, I may have had a mental breakdown. A real Flowers for Algernon moment stands out in my notes:

"Should have worn a hat," my notes say. I can remember looking at a portly little man in the row across from me, envying how peaceful he looked while sleeping. He had put his hat over his face, blocking out the lights. How I wanted to snatch his little hat and take it as my own!

I am starving. Something on the movie theater menu must make an acceptable breakfast. Perhaps the hot dog. Breakfast isn't "real," I realize. It is only a lie we tell ourselves. You can absolutely have a hot dog for breakfast if you want it enough.

Looking back, I also realize I didn't actually procure said hot dog. I just thought about it.

9:02 am: The theater begins to smell like a room full of gassy moviegoers who haven't showered. Controversy brews. There is no rhyme or reason to why the air conditioner keeps turning on and off, and it's getting warmer and warmer — and smellier and smellier.

Someone grumbles this is because of the first-row prima donnas. They're allegedly complaining about the theater being too cold, prompting management to shut down the A/C. The theater has now been divided between back rows and front.

I don't know if these allegations are true, but they instantly make this Marathon much more interesting. The Hunger Games could break out at any second.

9: 17 am: I want to brush my teeth:

9:30 am: Iron Man 3

11:45 am: I am not sure how many times I've fallen asleep or how long I've slept for. Probably around two hours. Rebecca Hall is in Iron Man 3, and it reminds me of the point in time when she was supposed to be Hollywood's next It Girl. That's my primary takeaway from the film, which suggests I missed much of it.

I remember I forgot to have that hot dog for breakfast. Instead, I opt for a spicy chicken sandwich with fries. Ketchup doesn't help. Neither do pickles. It tastes like the color brown.

Though disappointed in my food choices, I get another refill (number two) to make sure I am getting my money's worth in soda. I remind myself that if I can get through Thor: The Dark World, I'll be treated to my two favorite Marvel films: Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Guardians of the Galaxy.

12 pm: Thor: The Dark World

Thor: The Dark World gets a lot of hate.

I'm not sure why this is. I wouldn't say it's as good as Guardians, Winter Soldier, or Iron Man. But it's definitely better than the latter Iron Man films, better than the first Thor, and light years ahead of The Incredible Hulk.

I wonder if it's because Thor (Chris Hemsworth) is a bit of an invincible lunk. The films try to make him as human as possible in order to diminish that part of him — for a god who can control the weather, he doesn't use his lightning powers nearly enough. If Thor felt more free to use his godlike powers, would his movies be more fun?

2:07 pm: I think about changing back into regular-person pants to finish off the marathon like a serviceable human being, but quickly scoff at this idiotic notion. I get a refill and switch up Sprite for Coke. My teeth feel fuzzy.

2:15 pm: Captain America: The Winter Soldier

2:32 pm: "Soldier vs. Spy," I write down.

This dynamic carries the movie. Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) and Steve Rogers have completely different ways of looking at the world. She sleeps with one eye open. He believes in the good of the government and the inherent good of people.

And together they have to deal with the realization that something they both believed in — a rarity in this world — is a complete sham. You see him sadly lose faith in people. You see her learn to trust. They meet somewhere in the middle.

Winter Soldier gives me a second wind. It's a fantastic film, one that sets up Ultron so well. My teeth still feel gross, and I want to wash my face. But this movie has done the impossible — I feel like a human again.

4:20 pm: Guardians of the Galaxy

4:35 pm: I leave the theater. Not because Guardians is a bad movie — I leave because I've seen the movie at least seven times since it came out. I need fresh air. I need daylight. I find a Shake Shack and have the hot dog I deserve, not the one simply on offer.

4:57 pm: It's a beautiful day out. I could enjoy it, walk away from all of this.

I don't. I walk back into the theater.

5:51 pm: My favorite part of any Marvel movie is when the Nova Corps shows up in Guardians of the Galaxy.

The battle looks lost. Necrocrafts pour out of the Dark Aster, stopping Star Lord and his crew from infiltrating the hull of the ship. But then, out of nowhere, the majestic Nova Corps shows up, blasting the Necros out of the sky to give Star Lord the cover he needs.

The corps combine to make a wall of energy to stop the Dark Aster.

I laugh. My eyes water with joy. I get goosebumps. It's a perfect scene.

Even in my loopy, sleep-deprived state this movie has the power to pull me back and make me so irrationally happy. It's moments like this that have made Marvel Studios the pop culture force it is.

6:20 pm: Age of Ultron is the only movie standing in the way. I ask Grant how he's holding up.

"It's harder than I expected," he tells me, saying he left the theater during Avengers to go sleep in his car. I hadn't noticed.

"I know what you mean. This emcee is just the worst. I just wish we could get rid of him," I reply.

Grant is silent. At this point, I realize Grant is afraid of being honest with me. I have misjudged our Marathon kinship. Grant wants a poster. I hope Grant gets a poster, but I also hope Grant understands that the emcee is the worst person on the planet at this moment.

6:45 pm: I get my fourth refill. My cup is officially worth at least the $7 I spent on it.

6:59 pm: I realize I could have flown to Asia and back in the time I've spent in auditorium seven at the United Artists King of Prussia multiplex.

7 pm: Avengers: Age of Ultron

I'm not sure if Age of Ultron is a better movie than its predecessor. The fight scenes, while awesome, don't have the snap and crackle of the first film. They feel almost clinical. We know what to expect, and there's a sense of boxes being checked off.

But where the film pushes past the first Avengers is in its heightened sense of consequence, especially in the stories of Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) and Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen). Both have a family, both have a sense of fear, and both could easily be crippled or put down by an errant laser beam — aside from Black Widow, you don't really get that feeling from other Avengers.

There's also a beautiful symmetry with the Scarlet Witch — a.k.a. Wanda Maximoff — being a product of Stark Industries' double-dealing with criminals and warlords. It nods to the first Iron Man, when Tony realized that his weapons have been used by terrorists and have created others. Wanda's country and home are attacked by people using Stark weapons, just like the villains in Iron Man.

This connection to the past wouldn't have been as poignant had I not rewatched Iron Man. I had seen Ultron by itself during an earlier press screening, and little glimmers like that didn't hit me until this viewing.

"Everyone creates the thing they dread," Ultron says in the movie, driving this point home.

I wonder if I've ever created anything I've later come to hate. Pitching coverage of this Marathon comes to mind.

9:45 pm: I don't stay for the mid-credits scene in Age of Ultron. I book an Uber to go to my hotel in Philadelphia, and head into the lobby, where Avengers fans are lining up for the Thursday-night showing. They're vibrant, bounding with energy. I'm a smelly husk of a human.

I hobble into my Uber. My driver, Michael, sees the crowd in the lobby.

"Avengers, right?" he asks.

"Yup."

"Did you see it? What'd you think?"

Part of me wants to tell Michael all about the Marathon, boast of my accomplishment, and tell him how much I hate the emcee. I want to tell him about Grant and his 10 am pilgrimage and the endless sodas. I want to explain why I'm wearing yoga pants.

But I'm hesitant.

I don't want to come off as crazier than I look. I'm not sure Michael would understand. I'm also not confident I can put together words into sentences. Tonight, my victory will be a private one.

"It was … pretty good."

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