This is my husband.
He ran his very first marathon over the weekend. He finished running 26.2 miles in 3 hours and 31 minutes. Out of 7475 runners he finished 1346. In his age group he finished 207 of 686. There were 4365 males that ran the race and he finished 1153. And he has signed up for his next marathon in the spring.
I'm really proud of him. At first I felt envious, like...what have I done that is so great?? What accomplishments have I done?? But then I remembered all the work I do for breast cancer education. The conversations I have with my friends and family about this new government task force recommendation and how red my face gets because I am so angry. I guess I'm not a sucker after all.
Plus, he needs me to be on the side lines of the course! Who else is he going to kiss at mile 6 (yes, he really did stop and kiss me and I loved every second of that sweaty kiss). Who would carry a backpack full of his stuff? Who would massage his muscles the night before? Who would meet him at mile 13 to take his hat and arm warmers and offer him a fuel gel??
Plus, if I ran with him I would have to beat him and I'm not sure I could ever do that.