I remember the best parts first. The anticipation waiting at the starting line under a waning gibbous moon, then rounding the many street corners ol' San Antone at sunrise, down familiar country roads and back again to cheering crowds. I'm convinced they added that last .2 miles to marathons because the excitement and exhilaration of the last .2 miles completely erases the pain of the previous 26. Afterwords, there is laughter and jokes, crawling in and out of cars, baby giraffe walks, merriment and beer.
Niamh (that's prounced Neeve, for the non-Irish speakers) had a great day and qualified for Boston on her second marathon, a fact I had to point out to as many people as possible as we walked back to the car. Me, I had a slightly worse time. The good news is I'm not so sore because I didn't run as fast as I expected. The bad news is I didn't run as fast as I expected. I probably started out a little too fast, and it soon became clear I would have to I take my time and enjoyed the scenery on that country road home (hey John Denver!). It was run walk run walk run cramp walk run walk walk walk run whew!
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