A much belated run report...I mean like really fucking belated.

So over a month ago I ran in the Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon (but I only did the half marathon). I have never run with a partner much less 30,000 other people. It was a surreal experience. I was nervous as hell, but thankfully Rowan and Wes were there to take much of the edge off. I guess the best way to go about the experience is to give you a mile by mile account...here goes.
Mile 1: A slow start
   The first mile was spent finding my place in the crowd. Most of it was spent dodging, starting, and stopping.
Mile 2: Still slow
   Still trying to find my place in the massive throng of runners
Mile 3: Really?
   It's been 3 miles and I am still keeping pace with the speed walkers. WTF! I'm still trying to pass other         runners while observing running etiquette. I did still manage to bump in to people and step on some toes. shame on me.

Mile 4: I think I found my pace!
   The other runners and myself seem to have found our pace and from here on out I am surrounded by the same people who like to run at a moderately slow pace. (We're slow, but remember it's 13 damn miles!). We are a weird pack of misfit runners. We are awesome.

Mile 5: Hey! I know those two!
  Wes and Rowan were stationed at mile 5! I was glad to see them. I was also running really well. I felt great, seeing them made me feel even better (apparently while they were standing there, a streaker caught the attention of the crowd, the other runners...and the cops.) They chose a great place to motivate me, because I didn't know what was looming immediately ahead.

Mile 6: The Hillacious mile
  So I don't remember signing up for hills. Damn. Right after we leave the downtown area there was a hill. It was steep enough, and I was hot and tired. I refrained from walking...barely.

Mile 7: F#*k you Cincinnati! (but just the topography...everything else was fine).
  God mutherfucking dammit! More fucking hills!?!?! and they're worse the mile six!?!?!!?! and they last for another 3.5 miles!!!! OK, my running is now sprinkled with periods of walking. The roadside water/Gatorade vendors have their work cut out for them. The pack of people I am running with look beleaguered and defeated. We all collectively hate life.

Mile 8: Kidding right?
  More of the same except add in hallucinating and fantasizing about sitting and never having to walk/skip/or run anywhere ever again.

Mile 9: This was a bad idea.

Mile 10: I CAN HAZ CHEEZBRGR!!!!

Mile 11: Good omen!
  Each mile marker had some form of entertainment. Whether it was the local fire stations band playing music, belly dancers or Elvis impersonators it was all good. At mile 11 there was a man singing a wonderful mantra "it's all downhill from here! Ya almost there! Ya almost there!" And he was right. The road became merciful and sloped gently downward. The wind blew at our backs. And we booked it. I have never seen a group of people kick it in to overdrive like we did. I imagined us as a gaggle of obese corgis attempting to round sharp corners and jump over the errant piles of Gatorade cups haphazardly thrown at the side of the road. It was gloriously clumsy.

Mile 12: Not much further.
  There is still a downhill slope and the group and I are still running our little legs off. Quite close darling. Quite close.

Mile 13.1: I prayed to a god that I don't believe exists that I was able to finish.
  The last 1.1 was awesome, and painful. The last quarter mile was run on a flat stretch of road. When I heard one of the early finishers shout there was only a quarter mile left I picked up my pace. I was determined to shave off a few seconds. The crowd was cheering and supportive then I saw the giant time clock looming in the distance...the finish. It was the longest 100ft I  had ever run. Then, I crossed it. Then, I threw up in my mouth (but swallowed it because there were people watching).

So overall, the experience was exceptional. I would add pictures but there was only one take by Rowan...and it's questionable.

 It's very blurry. And there is little evidence that it's actually me. In fact it very likely isn't. There have been many blurry pictures in the history of blurry pictures that discredit the subject matter...

If you think I'm implying that the half marathon was run by a man in a little girl suit then I'm not being clear enough...the marathon WAS in fact run by a man in a little girl suit. I'm only saying this because it's the only safe conclusion to come to. I can sit here and argue with you...but you prolly still won't believe that it's me...ya jerks.