Marathon Boy

Completed my first marathon this past Sunday after a raging 20 weeks and 537 miles of training. I set a blistering 8 minute mile pace until mile 16, but a couple key mistakes of not stretching my iliotibial band in the days prior or popping my pre-race ibuprofen made my right wheel begin to protest around mile 17 and was pretty much totally blown just past mile 22. Gutted out the last four on tenacity but I figure I lost about 30 minutes on those two flubs alone. Still, nothing to complain about: 3:57:27 got me under my 4 hour goal with time to spare, and at least the bar isn't too high for the next one, whenever that may be.

A big thanks to Mom for all the vegetables in my childhood, Dad for all the two milers in high school, Rebecca for hosting both amenities and triage and Scott for being the day's Detroit Recondo. I, of course, would be without any victory if my attractive graphic designer wife hadn't put up about a dozen Sunday mornings on her own while I ran around like a deranged gazelle.

A giant fake mustache of celebration for my boy, who suffered through the last 70 hours of pre-race mania with a nasty rotavirus. He somehow managed to stay upright and cognizant while thousands of masochists plodded through the city.