No I didn’t die, silly-billies. I made it all right, and let me tell you how.

I got on a bus in Superior, Wisconsin (across the river from Duluth, MN) and rode for an hour to Two Harbors, MN. As people were talking all kinds of crap about the run, and I didn’t want to unnerve myself by witnessing just how far I was going to have to drag my little legs, I read my book and ate a disgusting power-bar.

Once we got there, I met up with my two work-mates Megan and Lindsey, Megan’s mum and Lindsey’s friend, and lined up with the other 9500 people. It was at this point the announcer shouts “Look behind you everyone, this is just for you, it’s the 128th!’, whereupon, two jet fighters do a flyby right over the length of the course. Very American, but I loved it all the same.

We start off and we’re all taking it easy. In fact, by the half-way mark, I’m feeling pretty good, which was probably a result of the gel-shots and ibuprofen I was taking (which taste about as bad as each other). So, at mile fifteen, I tell Megan, who’s being nice enough to stick with her mother, that I’m taking off.

She looks sad, but that’s cool. It’s at mile twenty-two, that she catches up with me! She decided to leave poor mumsie behind. Then we run together for a very short while, when finally the 30 degree heat gets to me and I realize I’m no longer sweating. So, I send Megan on and proceed to dump five or six cups of water over myself at every rest stop.

Words can’t express how frustrating it was to be so near the finish yet have to still cover the Grandma’s strangely convoluted final mile, or how it felt to finally cross the line. I finished in four hours, thirty-nine minutes and seven seconds, and never stopped moving the whole time, only walking to stop for water. Megan and I saw one old dude lying on the ground screaming in agony, begging to medical personnel to stretch his leg. Some bloke running beside me popped his ankle. Ambulances were constantly going up and down the course. Out of the 9500 people to register, 6898 finished.

I am currently finding it very difficult to walk.

Here’s a photo as I’m coming into the end, courtesy of Abby. I’m sure Paschal will appreciate my garments.

And another, taken by some pro company:

And one more:

This last one is interesting, actually, as it demonstrates a flaw in my form: i.e., my right foot points outward on impact, causing my left side to compensate and make my ickle knee sore. The things you learn when you spend four months on something.

This is Stevie’s website administrator, George.

It is with deepest regret that I inform you that Stevie died of massive heart failure on the third mile of his marathon.

R.I.P.

Well, tomorrow, rain or shine, walk or run, I will be traveling 26.2 miles.

From Two Harbors to Grandma’s restaurant in Duluth, to be exact.

I’ll start at 7:30 am (1:30 pm your time) and hopefully make it in around four to four and a half hours later.

I’ll be thinking of you, so pray for me.

Stevie

It’s finally here, my step into super-stardom. As a favour for the wonderful couple who did make-up for my short, I stepped in as an extra/PA for a spec commercial.

Check it out here.

I know what your thinking: It’s the best stick-up-the-arse walking you’ve seen in some time.

What was that they say about the Japanese Marty?

I’ll admit it. Despite having a blog, I never read them, except for friends ones.

Yet, I found one I literally couldn’t stop reading. It’s called zerosexlife and is about a socially awkward, girlfriend obsessed sad-sack from L.A. It is conclusive proof that attitude is everything, and if I ever feel bad about myself again, a quick look at it will perk me up.

Have a look and see what you think.

I’ll admit it, with a slump in running (see the side-bar) and my knees, calves, shins, and ankles all begging me to stop, I’m a little worried I’m going to make it on the 16th.

I had been keeping an 8-minute mile pace, but that’s lowered somewhat. I just want to finish now.

It’s a very strange thing, running. It’s a total mind game, your success utterly dependent on the little battles that go on in your psyche, regarding whether you’re made of the right stuff.

I did run an official 5k race on Sunday, and beat my early twenties co-worker and her boyfriend, so that was a boost for the old man, but 3.2 miles is not the same as 26.2

In short, I want you to pray for me. Start now, and don’t stop, or else I might.