Today, I am a Teacher: The Best Laid Plans

By all accounts, it was the perfect day for a marathon. The weather was overcast, but not rainy. Chilly, but not cold, especially once you started running. The course was wonderful --fall colors starting to pop up all over. It was flat and downhill all the way from Grafton to Milwaukee. It was the perfect day for a marathon...but it wasn't a perfect marathon.

I've been fighting lots of conflicting feelings in the last 24 hours, which is why I've waited to post. I know that the point is that I finished the marathon. But it didn't happen like I planned. Like I wanted.

The first half, the first 13.1 miles, felt great. I was on pace to finish in under 6 hours, which I was psyched about, because it was a better time than I was anticipating. Somewhere around mile 12, my knee started hurting. Made it to the halfway point, walked through the water station, and tried to start running again. A no go. Walked to mile 14. Tried to start running again--a twinge on the lateral side of the knee--no go. Tried a few more times to run, but was stopped each time.

So I started walking like hell. I knew it would be close. For a good portion of that 13 miles, I thought I would be finishing before the 6:30 cutoff. Several times, I found myself fighting back tears. Saying, "Fuck this," out loud. Letting out a great deal of frustrated sounds.

I was in the last two miles when the 6:30 pacer passed me. PASSED ME. On pace. And I knew I was done. I knew I wasn't gonna make it. And I almost lost it. I just wanted to be done. I tried running one last time--it hurt too bad.

I trained for this. Hard. Mentally, I was ready. My pace was good. My muscles were ready. My heart was in it. But this, I couldn't control. It wasn't a matter of me stopping because I was tired. It wasn't something I could talk myself out of. My body was telling me no.

I saw Janet around mile 3; Chelsey at 4; Uncle Bob and DJ at 8; Chelsey again at 15 and 18. And I crossed the finish line at 6:36:39, into the arms of my family. I hugged my mom and I cried. I hugged my wife and I cried. I looked at my in laws, my brothers, my godmother, through tears. Turned around to hug Janet, and cried. But there they all stood, cheering me on, telling me how incredible I was, what a superhero I was. How, when I felt so undeserving, could they stand there and praise me like that?

They are my people. And it hit me that I couldn't have done this without them, without any of them. Everyone who has been with me from the start of my training until now. Loving and supporting me. I received so many cards, texts, and messages before my race. Was sent so many cheers during the race (most of which I had to listen to afterwards, because the app is weird). And then I got to have dinner with my family. Not to mention everyone who donated to my GOTR fundraiser. I have the best people. I did this for all of you, as much as I did it for myself. Thank you!

So when it all comes down to it, I accomplished my goal: I finished the marathon. Not like I planned. Not like I wanted. But I finished.

I am feeling a lot of things. Accomplished. Defeated. Exhausted. Proud. I'll work it all out. And in a year or two, I'll come back for those 6 minutes and 39 seconds. But for now, I think I've earned a little time to relax.