Supposedly, marathons have a Greek origin. Something about running as far as you can to deliver a message and then dying. Regardless of who died while running, I can tell you that after my first it may have well as been me.
I completed my first marathon, The Shamrock on Sunday. I am now re-learning how to walk.
My goal was to go out in nine minute and forty-five second miles, and then swagger back the last thirteen miles at a nine minute fifteen second pace. What actually happened was I went out a little too fast, and I came back a lot too slow. I ended up finishing in four hours... Oh, I wish. It was four hours and eight unforgiving seconds. Salt to the wound, my Garmin says I ran an extra half mile.
The race was very well organized. I was impressed with electronic the check-pointing, the sheer volume of happy volunteers and all the hot stew and beer a guy could want in a big warm wind-proof tent at the end.
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