April 1, 2013: And that's what we call, my friend, a half-marathon.

You may think it's an April Fool's joke - at first I thought so too - but for some undetermined reason, I casually ran a 13.1 yesterday after work (I used to hate these people using "13.1" and "26.2" but whatever, I'm here to be hated).

Now mind you, the longest distance I've ever ran before this historic moment was 10 miles, and it was around the bois de Boulogne, a.k.a. the Parisian Central Park. Except it's not central but rather peripheral, and it's not frequented by 5 min/mi Nike+iPod enviable runners, but mid-40's 16th-arrondissement couples with 3 children. And your run-of-the-mill heroin junkie, of course.

So what happened? I'm not sure, as I originally just wanted an easy 6 miles. But for whatever reason, this dreaded hexad was quite the demoralizing struggle. It actually took me more than an hour to force through it. I think I felt lame and judged by the treadmill (as well as the sweaty and fit Asian runners next to me), so I decided to go for a couple of extra miles. After 3 more, I experienced a spontaneous revival of energy and courage, and I increased my pace to a solid 8.35 min/mi. And kept it 'til the end.

The soft, nebulous filter is meant to represent the dreamlike quality of this particular phenomenon. 

All in all, this accidental, impromptu half-marathon has me hyped up not only for Chicago, but also for the half that I'll be running Memorial Day Weekend.  The past two months have been challenging, what with the lifestyle change necessary for training, and the impact it's had on my friendships and relationships with people. I already was a huge prick before signing up, so I'm sure you can imagine what the drastic descent into dickheadity has been like. Last week sucked: between my own father doubting my abilities to finish these races, my girlfriend's constant carping about training time, and my super-healthy triathletic colleague/friend's annoying texts about his comfortable 20 mile run after a Saturday night of bacchanal binge drinking.... I was starting to lose faith in myself.  Oh yeah, and I also got a ticket for speeding.

This week, Fate has rallied behind me and given me a raise at work, a less-bitchy girlfriend, and a completed half-marathon to prove that I can do it.

The only bad thing is (c'mon, I'm a dick; I could never end on a positive note): The Boston Marathon page blocked me from advertising my witty and charming blog! Fuckers. 

Such a thought-provoking and inspiring prompt from the geniuses writing the Boston Marathon Facebook page.