I did it!

This is a photo of me running the Tucson Marathon.... oh wait, that's Steve Prefontaine, the strides are so similar, it's hard to tell

3:34 good job! Qualified for Boston, and can't walk or get in and out of a car; Goal Accomplished! My friend Jamie picked Adam and I up after the marathon. (I love my friends! They come to watch me limp across lines, then give me cards and tell me that I'm awesome and cary my stuff.) Jamie, upon discovering my limp body still clinging to her car window like a life raft, asked me what I was doing. "Oh sorry, I'm still getting out, just give me five minutes. I'm sure my legs will support me, If I can just get them under my body." I was wrong.

I became very emotional at the end. When I finished, throngs of race volunteers yelled at me to give them my chip. My eyes bleary with... um... sweat, yeah, sweat I wanted to yell at them to take the damn chip off themselves if they want it so badly, but my total body concentration was needed to prevent me crashing to the ground. As I careened, like an inflatable punching bag I realized that they were probably getting back at me for throwing my cups of Gatorade on the ground and all over their kinfolk race volunteers.

So now I'm faced with the question as to how much pain medication I should take... If I take the amount based on the amount of pain I'm in, I may rack up one more point for the millions of inadvertent suicides due to Advil ingestion... or I could drink half a glass of red wine and pass out-- i don't think you feel much pain when you are actually asleep, and as I didn't sleep at all last night, that might not be so bad... OK, plan