It finally happened. despite months of agony and pain in my glute and hamstring. despite having zero drive to get my ass into my running shoes and hit the pavement because the speed wasn't there to help with the emotional healing. despite having drank 5 glasses of wine the night before and eating way too many cookies and a cupcake. I showed up at 6:30am in Huntington Beach, CA and ran the Surf City Marathon. #55. The weather was gorgeous. The ocean roaring out to me, encouraging me to just soak it all in. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect morning. EXCEPT. my shoes were too tight. mislabeled. and oh-so-painful. I have some bone structure issues that require I wear wide shoes to alleviate the pressure that unmistakably feels like tiny knife stabs when in the wrong width shoe. At mile 16, I thought to myself - how in the HELL am I going to do this for 10 more miles. and then I had to do it. I had to play the game. The Ironman game. Ok, it's 10 miles...so, just get to the next aid station and you can walk through it...maybe stop, stretch. Alright, keep moving, you can do anything for 9 miles...look at that sucker right there, on the OTHER side of the path, you're 6 miles ahead of him - it could be so worse, you could be right next to him with 15 miles to go and so on. Somehow I managed to get to mile 24 where I blocked out the pain completely and played the game hard. You can do anything for 2 miles...you can do anything for 1 mile... get out of my way bitch, I have been running right next to you this whole time, you are not outsprinting me the last 200 yards. And after 4 hours and 15 minutes, I became a 55 time marathoner thinking about #56.