Do You Guys Really Run 26 Miles?

Near the end of my first marathon skeptical spectators helped me to keep going.

23 miles into my first marathon, I was seriously bonked! Starting way too fast, I hit the wall at 20 miles and was trying to survive.

Everyone was passing me. Even that guy with white hair and wrinkled skin zipped by. What was left of my addled brain protested that I shouldn't let such an old geezer pass me. I told my legs to pick up the pace a bit, but they refused to cooperate. They had nothing left.

I looked and felt my worst. Every muscle in my body hurt. My stomach was nauseous. I was drenched in sweat and caked with salt. My chafed nipples produced blood stains on my shirt.

An incredulous looking couple was trying to make sense of this spectacle of exhausted runners. Each passing runner could answer one question. By the time I passed, they had learned they were witnessing a marathon. They couldn't quite believe anyone would voluntarily undertake the impossible task of running 26 miles.

My question: "Do you guys really run 26 miles?"

Well I had not actually completed 26 miles, and I was having very serious doubts about whether I would. I was not even sure I could take 26 more steps let alone finish 26 miles.

Don't let them know that. Doing my best to remove all doubt from my voice and not having enough energy for more than a monosyllabic answer, I proudly proclaimed "Yes".

Motivated by their disbelief, I kept plodding to complete my impossible task - one small painful step at a time. I finally crossed the finish line, feeling nearly as bad as Pheidippides did after his famous run from the Plains of Marathon a couple millennia ago.

Did I really run 26 miles? You bet I did!

When's the next race?