The last stretch of 26.2 miles. This is me, hobbling across the finish line. Which I guess is supposed to be some sort of accomplishment. But what I am really proud of, is that I was finally  kind to myself. for once. my split at the half, would have had me coming in at just under 4 hours. i felt great until i stepped wrong just before i hit 20 miles. i twisted my leg, and my knee gave out. i collapsed to the ground. when i stood up, i pushed on to run about another mile, before i collapsed again. i got up, but opted to walk this time. i choked back tears of anger and pride, and tried to reason with my ego. kindess won. in the process i met a fantastic woman from sweden (seen running with me) we walked the last 5 miles together, and talked about humility, life, and enduring pain. about tolerable pain (which is inevitable in a marathon), and intolerable pain. about dreams and achieving them. about running, training, and life lessons.

and i learned that learning how to listen to your body takes training and courage. and i learned that a marathon is a testament (not unfortunately to my speed, but to my determination to finish--yes, but first to be kind to myself as i am to all others). i learned to love myself as i would a neighbor. and for this i am proud.