at the starting line: oh no, i have to pee.
one and a half mile: oh no, the porta potty line is way too long.
two and a half mile: dammit, i’ll wait in line.
two and a half mile: this is the longest two minutes of my life.
two and three-quarters of a mile: oh yeah, i’ve never felt better in my life. i think i’m gonna finish this thing.
four mile: is there something peaking out of my nose?
seven mile: (man wearing a red shirt. on the back it says “bangalore 2007. i’m tough. are you?”) wtf?! am i tough?! this shirt just challenged me as a human being. i’ll show you. (running faster, now next to the man who was in bangalore in 2007. he’s breathing heavily) ah. weakness. i’ve got you now. (as i pass him i burst into flames)
eight mile: (man passes me) no way in hell is anyone else passing me from now on.
nine mile: is there something peaking out of my nose?
ten mile: (man wearing a white shirt. on the back it says “completed marathons in all 50 states, including d.c.) i would bow in respect if could stop running right now.
thirteen mile: wow, thirteen miles already?! but we’ll start talking about finishing this thing at sixteen.
fourteen mile: (half way up a moderate hill, a man mutters “i thought this was a flat course”) you and me both, bro.
fifteen mile: is something peaking out of my nose?
sixteen mile: ok sixteen miles. we’ll talk about finishing this thing at eighteen.
sixteen and half mile: (i ask a volunteer for the time. she says it’s 9:34) i’m nearly under my under 4 hour pace. i can do this.
seventeen mile: there’s gotta be something peaking out of my nose.
eighteen mile: ok eighteen miles. we’ll talk about finishing this thing at twenty.
nineteen mile: (person who would be my cousin james calls me out. he says, “good job! no don’t stop running to chat, keep going! you’re looking good.”) thanks james. appreciate the boost.
twenty mile: i’m finishing this thing.
twenty one mile: (i pass a concrete structure with “virginia” etched into it) yeah, i feel like i’ve ran all the way to virginia.
twenty three mile: (a group of yellow-clad observers cheer us marathoners on as we pass them by) thanks people. that gave me a definite boost. i hope i don’t have bloody nipples. (i peer downwards) no bloody nipples!
twenty five mile: god, these last few miles are breaking me down and making me its plaything before it casts me to the side like a sad piece of trash.
twenty six mile: the finish line never looked sweeter. (i look behind to find other marathoners closing in on me) uh uh, i said no one is passing me anymore. (announcer says, “and here comes allen sin finishing strong.” i check my shirt, wipe my nose.)
twenty six and one fifths of a mile: official time, 4 hours, 11 minutes and 9 seconds. no bloody nipples and a clean nose to boot. i want a beer.
