07/21/2026
Was it pretty? No. Was it graceful? No. Was it fast? No. Is it done? Yes.
It wasn't looking good for me when I was sitting on the curb, legs straight in front of me, unable to bend because of two massive cramps in my quads in the LITERAL first 30 seconds of the run.
I sat there for 10 minutes thinking, "So this is how it ends..." as I tried to figure out how I was going to get up. I was eventually able to bend them and managed to get on my feet. I decided that I would take some steps and then head home. So I started limping/walking.
There's no way I can do this for 13 miles. I kept taking steps. I can't do it. After a block I tried a slow shuffle jog. It hurt but I could go a block. Then I walked a little. Next thing I knew, I reached the 1 mile marker. How?
There's no way I can do this for another 12 miles. Let's just see if I can do one more. Walked a block, trotted a block. I'll just keep doing this until I can't do it anymore. At least put up a fight, man. Just don't stop or you're done.
Every half mile I had friends and family appear and encourage me. Every time I was about done, they showed up. I couldn't let them down. Then my calves started in. One foot in front of the other. Don't think about the distance, just one foot in front of the other.
13.1 miles later, somehow, I finished. With my best time yet. I have no idea how it happened. Seriously, I was DONE at the starting line of the run. Done.
Other people can do this and make it look fun and relatively effortless. It doesn't work that way for me. This race, every year, is my life in a microcosm. It never goes as planned. It's way harder than I anticipate. Everything goes sideways. It takes everything I have inside to finish.
I may drive myself into the ground in the process but I won't quit.
Never quit.