Because Boston Delayed Beats Boston Denied.

Before Sunday's race, my friend Jeff -- one of the co-captains of our Blue Ridge Relay team -- offered to run with me for the marathon. It was either a selfless offer by him to sacrifice a potential PR to help me with my pacing or a shameless attempt to be coated in the glowing penumbra of my ultimate triumph. But I demurred. I told him that I needed to do this alone, that I had to go meet the marathon the way Beowulf confronted Grendel. With genitalia exposed? No, that's not what I mean. I mean solo, one-on-one, just the two of us we can qualify if we try. But the truth is, this was not a solo effort. The race itself was bookended with my friend Trey at the start and Kate and Marc at the finish. Somewhere near Lincoln Park I passed a guy I recognized from Asheville. I yelled "Asheville in the mother-flippin' house!" and gave him a fist bump. Just seeing a familiar face gave me a surge of energy, as did the words of encouragement from behind me as I ran off: "Who was that bozo?" "I have no clue." Many people had a hand in Sunday's race and when I finished crying at the finish line, I started giving my acceptance speech ("The marathon likes me! It really likes me!") to anyone who would listen. In getting feedback from listeners, the speech has been called heartfelt, touching, and "the longest elevator ride of their life."



Here are some of the people I want to thank and if I forget anyone, I will make up for it in a separate post:



Mary C. -- In July 2001, Mary C. walked into my office and gave me the Johnson Treatment to join TNT. She could not have known that she was opening Pandora's Box, because had she did, she would have passed me over out of respect for the TW. But she talked me into training for a marathon and, well, here we are.



Steve A. -- Our TNT coach and boy did he deserve better. Steve was a sub-3:00 marathoner and would have liked to train a stable of serious competitors. Unfortunately, I was not yet a sub-4:00 marathoner. I do recall Steve telling me in front of Mary's house one Saturday morning that I had the potential to be a good runner. I thought he was just being nice.



Greenville, NC runners -- I had some great running friends in Greenville, so much so that they became our friend friends. One is Max's fairy godmother. Another was Max's nanny. Some no longer run. Some have died. Some are still at it -- training and racing. All occupy a special place in my heart -- down there on the far right side of my torso below the rib cage.



Jim McGehee -- Jim is a coach at One-on-One Endurance and my first paid coach. He is smart, cautious, and unfailingly positive. He taught me the underlying training principles that I use today. We never had any breakthrough performances together, but that's because I was not the most apt pupil. I would recommend him unequivocally to anyone looking to improve their times.



The Vanderbilt Trauma Department -- My running can be divided into two eras, the pre-modern and the modern era. The modern era began when we moved to Nashville for Anne's fellowship. Before then, I had worked my PR down from 4:01 to 3:33, but there it was stuck. I did not think I could improve. But when we moved to Nashville, we discovered something missing from eastern North Caroline. Goo-Goo Clusters. It had nothing to do with marathon training. But Nashville also had hills and, over time, running those hills made my legs stronger and made me faster. I would never have qualified without my training trysts with Percy Warner Park.



Guy Avery -- Guy was my second paid coach, but unlike Jim, he had the benefit of seeing me run in person. Despite that, he didn't cut me from the team. What can I say about the co-pilot that hasn't been said. His methods were both traditional and unorthodox, radical and yet obvious. He forced me to find speed that I did not know existed in my scrawny frame. Most importantly, he made me understand the importance of the mind-body connection in training and racing. As a runner without elite DNA, I know I have to rely on my biggest muscle -- the French call it "Le Boudin Blanc." Sorry, I was thinking about something else. My brain, I have to use my brain to race well. I'm not qualifying if I don't train with Guy for a year.



Nashville, TN runners -- My Nashville crowd included some serious runners and seriously nice people. Seeing many of them for the Blue Ridge Relay gave me the mental boost I needed for my last month of training. I have already posted about their friendship and generosity, like the send-off Donna hosted for me when we left Nashville. I still wear that "Run Like a Girl" t-shirt. I will say that being part of a running group where most of the runners are faster than you can make you a faster runner. It can also make you bitter and resentful and I think Billy Wallace is a show-off and I could run that fast if I shaved my head.

Leslie Martin -- When my brother took up running, it forced me to re-double my training efforts because I'd be damned before I would let him catch me. Sibling rivalry will do that. Leslie also impressed upon me the importance of protein in training. He was right.

The Blog Community -- Although I have not met many of you, or seen others in years, I feel like there is a bond between us. And that's just not with those of you who faithfully mail your panties to me. James, I know it's you -- I can tell by the postmark. I can not tell you how much I appreciate your encouragement and support. Your psychic energy and good vibrations creates a Karmic-doping effect when I run. Almost exciting as qualifying was sharing the results with you.

TW and VO2Max -- The TW has always supported my running, even as has come to consume our disposable income, and she always knows just what to say before a race: "Get it done, already, or I am leaving you for a 2:55 fireman. And who are you kidding with that 'Le Boudin Blanc' comment?" With the birth of VO2Max, I had a tangible reason to avoid doing anything really stupid in a race (e.g., Flying Pig 2002) and I am proud to report that I have not crawled across a finish line since.

I also want to thank the Academy, my agent, my publicist, all the people at Sony Films, my hairdresser, you ladies at Adorn rock!, Lorne Michaels, Maggie and Charlie, who am I missing . . . oh yeah God, thank you God, my parents and siblings, I know I'm forgetting some people . . . they're telling me we have to cut to commercial . . . thank you, thank you, thank you . . .