I signed up for the marathon late Tuesday.

I drove 3 hours the night before the race.

I rushed around and ate too late.

I slept in an unfamiliar place and didn’t sleep enough.

It was a cold morning – in the low to mid 30s – when the race started.

The course had a lot of hills.

My hamstrings felt like they were being ripped apart by the last 3 to 4 miles.

I ran with my phone in my hand for GPS because my watch recently broke.

This was the third marathon I’ve run. This is my best time. I felt the best, strongest, most prepared, and most confident. I also managed to stay injury free.

I qualified for the Boston Marathon.

I can do better. I can train smarter. I can better prepare. I can have a better plan. I can get stronger. I have more in the tank. I have more left to give.

For now, I’m going to recover and get healthy. I’m going to savor the moment and enjoy it.

Somewhere deep down I must love the pain. I love challenging my body and my mind. I love pushing myself. I love seeing what I’m made of.

Why else would I put myself through it?

It hurts so good. The feeling I got when I crossed the finish line made the blood, sweat, and tears worth it. And yes, I experienced blood, sweat, and tears.