So.... That happened.

In the matchup of 26.2 miles versus Naomi, it was a knock-down, drag out fight, and I wish I were exaggerating. The miles took a beating in the early rounds but came back hard. But I fought tooth and nail and hung on to the bitter end.

That's the cutesy version of what happened. The long version will come later.

For now, the short version: There was no blood, some sweat, and a few tears. A lot of rain. Really painful leg cramps. But I finished, as I had no doubt that I would. Even at my worst, I knew I would finish.

I couldn't have done this without you all, though, and that's the truth. I kept thinking about "Just keep swimming", and "Keep going until they make you stop", and "Keep going, kid", and running with Tim, and raising almost $5,000 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, and I thought about thinking about those things, and I thought about telling you all about thinking about those things, and then I let out a few sobs because I was grateful for the inspiration, and because I had so far to go. And then I took a few deep breaths, and just kept on keeping on.

Then there were the people here today who helped me keep on keeping on. For now I'll just list them so I remember later. Their stories will come when I give the full report. Lynn-the-St.-Louis-TNT-coach; the pink-dyed, spiky haired coach from Canada whose name I never learned; Luke; Cindy from Anchorage; my sister.

And, in a Naomi-typical burst of optimism, let's accentuate the positive:

-- My knees didn't hurt.
-- Mosquitos were not a factor.
-- The scenery was delightful, even when running was not.
-- I gave it everything I had. This is really what I was talking about in that last post, even if it seemed like I was talking about being competitive. Shit happens, and I can't control that, and it was worrying about the uncontrollable that was stressing me out. But I can control my resolve and my effort, and I used all I had of both to get me over the finish line.