I have a photographic memory

About a month or so ago, I ran the half Buffalo Marathon. (or is it the Buffalo half-marathon?.. look there's no time. I'll figure this out later and edit it into the blog. You guys are already falling behind the other readers and need to catch up. Just skip to the next paragraph. There's nothing really important in the first paragraph.)

I wanted to blog about the experience, but I forgot. Plus, running is about the most boring thing in the world and it sucks. Luckily, I have a photographic memory so, tonight, I took down my account of running my first half-marathon. There are spelling and gramatical errors because it's a blog and I've been drinking and you need to relax.

Here it is. My account of the thing. You're better off not reading this:

The first mile was easy. I was talking while running and I wasn’t even out of breath. I don’t think that I’m in shape, so I’m sure the adrenaline was carrying me.

I decided to run the second mile with my eyes closed. I allowed my ears to guide me through the streets of downtown Buffalo. I ran into the back of about 12 or so people and they were angry. Some people think they own the road.

Around mile 3, I started to get hungry so I ordered a pizza. Even after pleading directly to the delivery guy, they would not deliver a pizza to Mile 4 of the Buffalo Marathon. Luckily, I put some spaghetti in my fanny pack. If you think cutting spaghetti is hard, try doing it while running.

I threw up twice from Mile 4 to Mile 5, but the spastic contractions of my stomach did not slow me down. A medic drove up on a cart and tried to convince me to take a rest. I gave him the finger; like I’m going to take nutrition advice from a ‘Medic’. Go back to Medical school and study before you tell me what to do.

Immediately after crossing the Mile 6 line, I passed out and hit my head on a curb. I’m told that I got up and ran another quarter mile but I can’t remember. Who invented curbs, by the way? Do cars really need help staying on the road? If you ask me, we only have curbs to line the pockets of those fat cats in Washington.

After resting for a few minutes, I sprinted to make up for lost time. Sprinting during a half marathon sucks because, all of the sudden, everyone wants to know you.

I got a rock in my shoe at the 9.5 mile mark. I tried just pressing harder on the foot to try and crush the rock under my weight, but it didn’t work. I then tried to convince my mind to evolve into a being with 'rock' feet. This way, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Unfortunately, this process would take millions of years and the half marathon would be over. I ultimately decided to just reach down and take my shoe off, find the rock and then swallow it. I care about my fellow runners and didn’t want this to happen to anyone else.

My legs started to hurt for the next two miles because I forgot to put my shoe back on and I was running unevenly. It's amazing how much your mind can forget when you're concussed and born an idiot.

The last leg of the half marathon was the hardest. People gather down the home stretch to cheer you to the finish line. They wouldn't shut up no matter how much I yelled at them. I couldn't concentrate and forgot what I was doing. Someone brought their dog with them and I remember thinking how easily I could beat it up.

Then, I was home.

I think we've all learned something here. I should have gone to bed hours ago.