When Martians Attack...

Dear Marathon,

You suck. You really do. It's not like you are not hard enough already. Whether it has been using you as a measure of my fitness or chasing a time that would let me ride the unicorn, you have never been easy. You force each and everyone during the course of their travel over you to bring their best In some ways, toeing the line with you is like going into a title fight with each of us trading blows throughout the race in search of excellence. I had put in a solid training camp. I was ready.

Maybe word had spread throughout the galaxy that I was going "all in" and my shoes had been set to stun, that you began to get scared. Perhaps you thought you needed to soften me up with some body blows prior to the start of the race by sending some Martian minions to invade my body and force me to purge necessary fuel from my body. My engines were less than at full capacity come takeoff, but my confidence had not wavered. I still believed.

As I began my flight pattern, I held back on pushing the engines to full throttle. Almost on que, those Martians which I had thought been eradicated by my efficient body propulsion methods began in unisoning jumping up and down on my stomach like they were at an inflatable party. It was inevitable that when I went to push the engines, they sputtered. A radio check to the legs screamed that they we're giving me all they had.

My mind would not give in, and I continued to drive the legs toward a 1:41 half marathon at the turnaround. Ingesting some fuel, I continued my drive, but the Martians would not allow me at the same rate. Instead of jumping on my stomach, they began crawling my my windpipe and by mile 18, I had to pull over and purge myself of them. By now, the body blows and purging had taken me far south of my time goal, but I wasn't raising the white flag. I expelled any remaining Martians again at miles 19 and 21 and continued at a rate constant with being on fumes. The eradication of the Martians had also meant that any liquids left to cool and fuel my systems were gone.

The remaining miles I was joined by half marathoners and we were all locked in our respective final rounds with you. A couple of sips of some powerful green liquid and my energy levels began to rise, but it was too little to late for the clock and I crossed in 4 hr 1 min. However, marathon, even though you threw were underhanded in your approach to try and break me, I didn't fold. All in meant all in and I gave it my best even if the clock showed otherwise.

Here's till we meet again,

Dawg