The Marathon

The marathon was a disaster. To start with, the traffic on the way to marathon went on for miles. Unfortunately, that's what happens when you have a marathon in Frederick, Maryland. There was one tiny road just off the highway that everyone and their mother could take to get to the starting line. Well, there were actually two ways, but only I went the other, much shorter, route. Props to Google maps.

Even so, I started the race about 8 minutes late. Apparently, I ran the first 6.5 miles in under 48 minutes and the first half of the marathon in under 2 hours. Over the next three miles, my pace continued to slow. At that point, I figured I'd implement my tortuous strategy of walking, then running, then walking, then running and so forth. There was on problem. By mile 18, something had gone wrong. I couldn't physically run anymore. I was nauseous and I could hardly breathe.

That wasn't all. "The claw" had gotten several parts of my leg, including my hamstring and it wasn't letting go. I turned into John McCain, as I couldn't lift my arms. My asshole and taint were on fire. My nipples were becoming raw, but luckily a spectator was offering vaseline, so I was able to fix that problem. I learned later that my arm pits chaffed and I got a sunburn, but the pain from those couldn't compare. I also didn't feel my swollen and painful feet at all the entire race, so I guess that's good. I was more concerned with the bit of heat exhaustion I was feeling.

At one point I crossed over a bridge and thought about jumping off. I didn't want to quit, but I didn't think I could even walk the last few miles. But the bridge had a chain fence and it would have taken too much energy to climb up and over it, so I'm still alive. Finally I crossed the finish line after 5:25. It took me about 3:30 to do the second half. The marathon was a abject failure.