Let’s just say that I taught South America a lesson about running a race. Except for that 80-year-old guy who I was trying to catch the whole way but never managed to do it. And those 12-year old girls who skipped across the finish line ahead of me. And a whole lot of fit futbolers. And like 5000 other people.

But still! I made it! And stuck to my tried-and-true method of running way too fast in the beginning of the race and having absolutely no juice left for the last 8 miles but forcing myself to drag my bones across the finish line somehow anyway. I would not recommend it as a tactic, it makes a guy pretty miserable. But still! I think I made it in 3:30! I beat the 3:30 pacer, at least (just barely), and my chip time might be as low as 3:28! So, way to go USA, right?

Click to see it bigger:

Julie was so kind and met me after the race to give me some clothes and my phone so I could take a picture, but honestly, I look Ephron* miserable. It’s not a pretty sight. The official race pictures will be online on Tuesday or Wednesday, so depending on how close to death I look in those, I might post some on here.

Oh, and at one (low) point of the race, near the end when I was forcing my legs against their will to move ahead of one another in cadence, I was thinking mean thoughts about my fellow runners as they passed me and I actually thought to myself, “come on, people, it’s not a race.”

When, in fact, it was.

Masculino:

*The use of the expletive “Ephron” is © 2009 Delaney Nye, all rights reserved.