Breakdown of the marathon:
Mile 1: Overly-joyed, overly-loud overly-white people celebrate the kick-off and first mile in one, large Mormon battalion.
Mile 2: Children lined the road and gave us high fives. For the first time in a while, I want kids. The crowd thins out
Mile 3: The twins set a pace that I follow... hard breathing gives way to chest pains, chest pains give way to side-stitches and side-stitches give way to me setting my own pace and making Jane Kristine and black and turquoise dots in the far distance.
Mile 4: Just got passed by sexy mom, not feeling too bad though.
Mile 5: It's getting pretty warm: I take off one of my shirts.
Mile 6: Sexy mom lifts up her shirt to wipe her face. I put my shirt back on.
Mile 7: Not able to have kids even if I want them anymore.
Mile 8: My arm is bleeding? How and when did that happen?
Mile 9: Just got passed by a grandma... still feeling alright. She's pretty fit.
Mile 10: There's human hope, there's eternal salvation, and then there are the mile 10 oranges I just ate.
Mile 11: Just got passed by woman twice my age and BMI.
Mile 12: For humility's sake I pick up my pace.
Mile 13: I've forgotten what walking is like.
Mile 13.2: FINISH at 2hr. 11 min. How am I ever going to accomplish anything without groups of people applauding me at every 10 minute interval?
Looks like I've peaked at 22!