The nasty running bit

After a bullshit sleep (and I was totally good for sleep but a bunch of young 'uns arrived late and were way too noisy and then Michael started snoring and also making this strange whistling noise) we woke up because the people above us started moving around, and then we heard the race announcer come on and start bellowing stuff and we were like "what the fack, it's still dark outside". Turns out he was getting the marathoners that were going to take more than 5 hours off as they start 2 hours before the regular marathoners.
Marathons are goddamn hard, but I'm typically off the course in 3:40. My hat's off to the people that start 2 hours before me and are out there for over 5 hours, just grinding through to get it done. I do not have the mental fortitude to do that.
As Michael is still recovering from his bike accident he chose to do the half and he was off at 7:30. I kissed him goodbye and wished him luck, but then - because all four or five thousand of them were all amassed in front of our freaking hotel, I walked out to watch them do the countdown and take off. It's so corny: I started to cry a little as they all headed off.
An hour later it was my turn, and damn if my upper lip didn't start to quiver as they sang our national anthem. It must be the sleep deprivation.
For the first time I was actually calm as we headed out. Normally I'm a spastic mess and my heartbeat is probably approaching cardiac arrest, but this morning I just turned on the music, was thankful for the beautiful weather and the friendly volunteers and the happy people around me and I funneled out to get 'er done.