A Runner's Lament

So, once again, the marathon didn't go as I planned.  My goals were 1. to finish without puking, 2. to have a superfast finish time, 3. to finish, at all.  Well, I finished, but the second half was less of a run and more of a 'barely stumble' to the finish, with intermittent puking.

I'm a puker when it comes to long-distance running.  I'm coming to terms with that.  I love running, but I really wish I could get the eating-while-running thing handled.

Once again, it took a village (Sally, and my cousin Heidi) to meet me at mile 20 and coerce me into finishing. I wanted to sit down, A LOT.  I was dehydrated and couldn't keep anything down, and my stomach felt like sandpaper.  I really did run 15 beautiful, happy miles before I started to feel sick.  In any case, I somehow survived and here I am, deficient in calories but the semi-proud owner of a finisher's shirt.

In happier days, with Eddie and Heather at the starting line: