Oh sure, if I were to catalogue things in my head neatly, I have unquestionably been more embarrassed than I was on race day morning, but I don't know that I've ever been more ashamed. I'd never been so, I don't know, disappointed in myself than I was in those frantic, awful hours. My parent's came up from the country to cheer me on, for crying out loud. I'd trained all those months! How would I face up to such a failure?!
I decided to take the unfortunate peck of lemons foisted on me by my own bollix and challenge myself: I was going to run a marathon that day!
And so I did.
Whenever a coworker or colleague that didn't know of my forty-winks foul up asked for my finish time, I gave them the time my GPS tracker gave me: 4:05. Not my best overall marathon time, not my worst. I didn't bother to correct them when they called it the Marine Corps Marathon.
Amongst friends, we called it the Michael Corps Marathon.
The best part? Those wonderful friends of mine rallied at the "finish line" (read: my fire escape) with boozy treats, streamers, and convivial hoops and hollars. I guess in some ways, it was a better success (to me) than a sub four hour time would have been.
After all, it was the first time I've ever come in first!
We're more than six weeks away from the second Michael Corps Marathon, and I'm up to nineteen mile long runs. Here was this week's.
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شركة مكافحة النمل الابيض بالرياض
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