Marathon?

Today was the marathon attempt. I'm cracking up even calling it an attempt. Nevertheless, something happened, it was more or less 7 miles long, so let's just call it that - an attempt.

There were several revelations that came during the during and remembered themselves to me during the after (obviously none of them concerned grammar). Here they are in no particular order:

1. A marathon is about 26 miles long...er than you think.
2. Optimism only gets you through about 1 mile.
3. Vomit burns. Both times. And in between.
4. I have the lungs of a chain-smoker.
5. Mario's lungs are actually made up of stacks of Camel Golds.
6. Those stacks of Camel Golds are made of real camel essence. Because that boy sure has endurance.
7. Sitting at the computer for four months is probably only the second best way to prepare for an attempt.
8. Typing speed and running speed are uncorrelated.
9. Running is not the best time to work out personal problems. The only thing I could think about was the personal problem of having decided to run a marathon.
10. Doing is highly highly overrated. I'm going to stick to 'planning to do' and 'lying about doing' from now on instead.
11. Not only can Mario not run a marathon, he can't even run a marathon while carrying me on his back.

The attempt started auspiciously. After half a mile, Mario was celebrating the 2% mark. "Dude, we already ran 2%! Just fifty of those, and we're done. Cake. Wait, it's only forty-nine more! How can we not finish?"

The first mile was indeed cake, and no, we weren't in a car. Unfortunately there was a second, which didn't go over so well with my head and stomach. At around two miles, they suddenly teamed up and betrayed me, with a pain-in-the-ass thing called pain. And the next five miles after that were pretty much a bloody haze of running and walking, though I'm reasonably sure it wasn't my blood. I may have strangled Mario a bit, and perchance some worthless passerbys.

Anyway, it's all over. Now I get to sit back and enjoy the perks of having attempted to run a marathon. These include not being able to walk, lots and lots of complaining about not being able to walk, having to take frequent sips of water between complaints because of a burning throat, and of course blushing and running out of the room when the word marathon clears the air.