>So you may have noticed that I have not blogged about the half marathon yet. Partly, because I’m sad it’s over. And partly because I’m proud of my accomplishment. Well DUH! one might say. But I’m a little too proud and I was trying trying to shield you from my bragging sickness.
Any and all frames in our house are being filled up with pictures from the half. Who cares about our wedding, the adoption of a baby, a beloved (but dead) grandparent? I RAN A HALF MARATHON. Look! Here I am sitting in traffic on the way to the race! And here I am putting on my race number! Oh! And here I am in line for the port-a-pottie! You may have to step back to get a good view of this wall mural but here I am RUNNING A HALF MARATHON.
Tragically, the madness doesn’t stop there. Oh no. I have been wearing my finishers medal around the house. While reading. While vacuuming. While Facebooking. I might be wearing it right now . . . In a supreme act of self control I have yet to wear the medal out of the house. But that might be next as I think it will go nicely with the shirt I got for RUNNING A HALF MARATHON.
When I got my hair cut last week I said, “I want more layers because I RAN A HALF MARATHON.” At the store when they asked, “Paper or plastic?” I said, “I brought my own bags and I RAN A HALF MARATHON.” Friends, relatives, and those unfortunate enough to make eye contact with me have had to hear all the grueling details: And then, at mile nine, I dropped my chap stick! I hung up all the signs people made to cheer me on in the closet right at eye level. Each time Demetri wants to get dressed he is assaulted by neon signs reading Run Joslyne Run! I didn’t wash my arm with 13.1 temporary tattoo for days and I pushed my sleeve up when out in public just so people would see it and know that I RAN A HALF MARATHON.
So, in case you were wondering: I RAN A HALF MARATHON. I finished. I didn’t puke. And lucky for you, I have absolutely no desire to run a full marathon. Because, you know, then I would be insufferable.