I'll have a full and proper report tomorrow, once I've seen my brother off onto the airplane, eaten both of my Crumbs cupcakes, and gotten through the backlog of work I've built up over the last eight weeks (or so) that I haven't been able to do because of the mental energies used in marathon training.
Suffice it (for now) to say that I earned marathon medal #7, the hard way (aka the usual way, by running the whole damn thing). This was my 4th best marathon, of 7 marathons. Incidentally, this was my 4th worst marathon. Glass is half-empty, or half full?
In the meantime, while you wait anxiously for my race report, I have an announcement:
like Haile Gebrselassie, am taking this opportunity to declare my retirement from the marathon.
One of us is arguably the best distance runner in the world, both middle and long distance. The other of us is inarguably of mediocre abilities. Both of us have expressed our frustration with the marathon. Gebrselassie said today, in the NYTimes, "I never think about retiring. For the first time, this is the day. Let me stop and do other work after this. Let me do other jobs." I emailed a friend after the race with, "I think I'm retiring from marathoning to find something I'm actually competent at." I hadn't yet heard about Gebrselassie's announcement, and yet we were already living parallel lives. I would at this point suggest a reality show starring the two of us as we try to find other things to do with our free time. We could live in a house on the beach somewhere. It would be zany.
Of course, just as I hope that Gebrselassie changes his mind about his retirement, I, too, reserve the right to change my mind.
On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"