I survived...and pictures are coming. I haven't posted yet because I'm not sure how to explain the event...I reckon I'll just take you through the run.

First of all, my suspicions have been validated, I am NOT a real runner...total poser! Before the race even started I had a melt down and started crying. I couldn't find the porta potty! Thankfully after many phone calls with Shea in which each of us kept moving through the crowd, "Where are you?...under the flag? I don't see you. Stop moving! I can't find you if you keep moving," Shea found me, gave me a hug, and tried to encourage me. She was in her element, looking like a kid on Christmas morning. Her comment on the "energy" surrounding the marathon was, "Isn't this great? This is what you've trained for. This is what it's all about!" And my silent response was, "I may have made the biggest mistake of my life. Dear Lord deliver me from this hell." However, I managed a "Yeah, this is great."

After a final hug for luck, Shea left me to continue my quest for the porta potties, which I successfully found near the starting line. Now that is something everyone should experience at least once...the looooong line, the dropping of the dignity and hygiene as runners, male and female, link arms in their goal to lighten the load before the pounding begins.

I have read somewhere, "Hope is asking God for rain. Faith is brining an umbrella." Well I had hoped for cool weather...and had some friends praying for it. Alas, I did not expect a positive answer to the prayer...so uh, I wasn't fully prepared for the cold rain that ensued throughout the run. Blessedly I brought a hoodie with me. By the end of the race, the hoodie was about 5 pounds heavier. Nonetheless, it kept my hands and arms warm for most of the race.

The running...it started out beautifully. I felt really good...nice cool weather...even pace...lovely scenery. "My group" turned out to be the speed walkers...no, I was not the fastest. Those people can really move it! They walked and wiggled, I ran and trudged.

One of my favorite parts was the "sign" that followed me throughout. This one couple kept popping at various points with a sign that read, "This seemed like such a good idea in September." No words had ever rung so true.

I tried to embrace everything as it unfurled...not really knowing what to expect. I did not expect the pain nor did I expect the power of whispered words from fellow runners..."Come on. Just a little further," words that were repulsive coming from the crowd of on-lookers, but full of hope and promise when spoken from fellow participants. I did not expect it to be an act of worship.... The best definition I've heard for worship is "the soul's response to God anytime you are truly aware of the heavenly Father." Was I ever aware...I thanked him over and over for my body, my strong legs, my healthy lungs...then I became keenly aware of their limitations.

I cried throughout...I know, no big surprise there. However, when a girl ran by with "In memory of my dad," printed on the back of her shirt...I started hyperventilating.

The run got painful around mile 11. So many muscles were cramping...I have no idea what was hurting...but WOW! The following became my mantra..."Run with perseverance...run and not grow weary...walk and not faint...." The more painful it got, the more I cried as I repeated the phrases...hoping they were true. THEN I SAW SHEA AND KAM. They appeared right when I started the run-until-the pain-gets-too-much...walk-a-few-steps portion. I kept trying to run...but the pounding and cramping hurt unbelievably. The more it hurt, the more I thought of Chuck and his many battles with pain. I was no Chuck Picciuti! Shea appeared once more right near the end. I started really crying then...which lead to some more hyperventilation. I could see the finish...and Shea had to get behind the barricade. This is when God sent angels in the form of runners to whisper in my ear..."Come on. We're almost there...."

I finished! It took 3 hours and 13 minutes. And then I hyperventilated.