I posted a couple of months ago about signing up for my first half marathon… and I ran it last week. About 2 hours, 20 minutes… didn’t stop running the entire time. I’d like to say that two hours later I was out on the town wearing high heels like Katie Holmes, but that would be a lie: I was passed out in bed.
Here’s me about 8 or 9 miles in:
And afterward… this was taken shortly after I kissed the ground, I believe, and my daughter promptly plopped down into my tired, sore lap:
I think that running a half marathon is like getting married. While at the reception, people congratulate you on the wedding… and then promptly ask you when you’re having kids. It was only a few hours after the HM before I got my first "So – that was nice and all, but… are you going to run a full marathon now?".
 I am not counting the 5 seconds at each of 5 water stops where I walked long enough to chug my cup of water, a strategy I chose after running through the first water stop and nearly choking.
 Insert another form of pained adjective
 Because you know, anybody can go run 13.1 miles, that’s practically wuss-ville, but it’s only the real runners who run 26.2
 Knowing full well that the day I finish my first full marathon, I am going to be asked if I’m going to sign up for an ultra.