Personal bests and then not so much.

So, I've got Half Marathon No. 2 under my belt now. It was a fabulous race this morning. I felt excellent, despite the Pad Thai from Noodles & Co. that was procreating in my belly from the night before.

And nothing hurt - not my heel, not my hip, nothing. And nothing hurts now, almost eight hours later. It was cold as crap this morning - only in the lower 40s, maybe - but it felt perfect once I was up and running. And run I did.

This was my first solo race, and I thought I'd hate it. Courtney was off and running (and kicking ass) in the full marathon, so I strapped on my iPod, played my pre-made "Cellcom" playlist, and headed out. And I loved it!

I will have you know that Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" was song No. 2 on shuffle, and that was awesome. And p.s., Sara, I don't know where you were while I was between miles five and six, but "What's Your Fantasy?" by Ludacris was playing, and I laughed. Out loud. And sent all kinds of good vibes your way. Hope you felt it.

By mile eight I had a complete second wind and took off like a bat out of Hell. Or more like a runner who runs 8:40-miles, which really, in the big picture, isn't that impressive, but whatever. It was cool, OK. Miles eight through 11 flew by. It was 11 through 13.1 that took for-ever. But the last mile was a loop through Lambeau Field, and I don't know about you, but that was super neat. And neat is the only word I can come up with to describe such things.

So, anyway, I'm feeling good. I'm all, "Wooooo. I'm going to smoke my previous (and only) half marathon time. Woooooo." And then I crossed the finish line at one hour and 55 minutes. One minute slower than my previous (and only) half marathon time. WTF. But I forgive it, because I got to rock out to Britney's "Slave 4 U" at mile nine, and really, what more motivation do I need? Clearly.

And then Courtney, who's all, "Blah-blah-blah, I'm just using this (full, 26.2-mile) marathon as a training run, blah-blah," came in at three hours and 33 minutes. Holy. Cow. And she got her personal best time. And qualified for Boston. For the third time. And I totally don't hate her at all.

Just kidding!

And Cousin Nate, who probably almost could've lapped me because, hi, he runs faster than I drive, finished the full marathon in two hours and 36 minutes. His personal best time, too. And he also qualified for Boston. For, like, the 906th time, probably. Because that's what he does.

And I don't hate him, either.

So, hooray for races. And I have race fever, and whatnot, now, and want to run more. More! I have four shiny, pretty medals hanging from my lampshade and they need friends. Lots of friends.

And, you know, I still need to lose 10 pounds before the wedding. So there's that.