About five or six years ago I foolhardily registered for a half-marathon in St. Louis. When I showed up on race-day, after not having trained at all (literally not even a single practice run), I dropped down to the 5k (and ended up walking for a good half-mile of it). I did not run another official race for years.
About five or six fortnights ago (antiquated time measurement used here for parallelism's sake), I registered for a half marathon in San Francisco. I showed up on race-day after having spent the previous two weekends skiing and having not run more than 9 consecutive miles in my life. I was a little nervous that I'd have to give up a few miles before the end of the race and sadly gorge myself on swag mini-Clif Bars and Pop Chips in remorse. But somehow I actually made it through to the end! And Kate was waiting there with a bottle of water and (unfortunately for my sweat-drenched self), an iPhone camera.
My knees today feel like someone hit them with a hammer.
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