The marathon was an amazing, brutal and incredible experience.

As many of you know, my goal wasn’t just to finish the marathon, it was also to complain more than any other runner. The complaining had to be done subtly and elegantly. Instead of going to the start on crutches, for example, I had to claim that I was dealing with a slight stress fracture in my femur but that it was no big deal.

I started off slowly only complaining about twelve times the first five miles of the race. But, per my plan, the complaints really grew starting at mile eight.

- My right leg is really hurting.
- I’m not winded at all but I just can’t get my legs to go. Just too much pain.
- My hair is so curly I can barely make it over these bridges.

By the time I got to Central Park I had complained over nineteen hundred times crushing the record set by Felix Surets in 1978. So, knowing I didn’t need to complain anymore I ran the last couple miles with an almost pathetic exuberance.

The last mile was as good an eight (or nine or ten) minutes as I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t begin to explain how exhilarating it was. If I could do it again I’d actually run the race slower the entire time and really embrace every moment the same way I took in that last mile. Probably a good life lesson although I didn’t really think of it that way until I typed this. The best part was running mile 25 along the left side and high fiving everyone I could. It was super exciting and I’m for sure going to get the swine after touching all those hands.