And I did it. I ran every step of those 13.1 miles.
I did a piss poor job of following the training program, but I did manage to squeeze in a couple longer training runs in the weeks leading up to the race. And I was incredibly lucky that the weather could not have been more perfect for a long run. Clear, no wind, temperature around 40 degrees. Truth be told, I came really, really close to just bagging the race altogether, given how far off track my training got. But I knew that if I didn't do it, it would just eat at me, the way this race has the past few years that I have not run it. I didn't even register until about 10 days before. I went out and did ten miles a week before the race, and that gave me the confidence to go 13.1.
I completed the race in 2 hours and 8 minutes, which was seven minutes faster than my target time. I'm very proud of this. That is, until I think about the fact that the winner of the full marathon ran twice that distance in roughly the same amount of time.
I finished in 3,243rd place (no, not out of 3,243 runners, you funny guy you).
What was really amazing is that the 3,242 runners that finished in front of me failed their post-race drug tests, and so I've been declared the champion.*
Pretty amazing, huh?
*This is total bullcrap. I failed my post-race drug test, too. The dude that finished right behind me won.**
**Also total bullcrap. I finished 3,243rd. I'm very proud of this. My son thinks I made it to the medal stand since I came home with a finisher's medal. That's good enough for me.
I might even do another one.