i give em something to remember like the alamo

So, yeah, it's true: I ran in the ING New York City Marathon yesterday. (and yes, I am going to hell now for posting that picture. but, fuckit, its funny. besides, that woman looks like she's having the time of her life, and its not too far from how I felt when I finished) Thank you for your post, Handsome. Touching. Really. Oh, and Busta Rhymes called. Well actually his lawyers called. They want us to take his name off our website. Know what I say to that? gimme some mo

Right, Hmmmm, anyways. Marathon. THE Marathon. Lots of shit leading up this weekend to reflect on. First would be how to reference the marathon. I know its the ING New York City Marathon, but it's THE marathon, like THE Ohio State University. Cause when you say the marathon, and you're from New York, its not the Boston or the Chicago or the London marathons...Its THE motherfucking marathon. People kept asking me, "Oh you're running a marathon? Which one?" In the time it took you to ask that question, your purse just got stolen on the Broadway Junction platform so wake the fuck up.

Next question: "Oh, you're running the marathon? That's great! Are you training for it?" Okay, I don't know how many people actually sign up for a marathon and then just sit around eating Funyons for a whole summer or whatever, but here's what Lance Armstrong, a real American hero said about it, "I can tell you, 20 years of pro sports, endurance sports, from triathlons to cycling, all of the Tours, even the worst days on the Tours, nothing was as hard as that..." So, I mean, I don't know, who really does sign up for the marathon and not train, cause those people were still finishing while I was eating my first Epsteins burger in like two weeks and having what was like the most enjoyable cigarette since I first smoked one back in high school (rebel).

As far as the race itself went, nothing really funny happened along the way. NYC: you are the most beautiful city in the world and I wanted to cry man tears for like 26.2 miles yesterday as people lined the streets and were nice enough to yell my name that I had pinned to my tank top on a bootleg piece of cut-up t-shirt. In Bay Ridge it was the Italians saying, "Hey, theyre you go bobsled! That's a spicy meatball!" (okay, maybe not for real) And in Queens it was the hipsters saying, "HEY, who loves bobsled? Who loves bobsled?!" And in the Bronx they were like, "Uh, yeah, whatup crackas, welcome to the boogie down. Chicken Noodle Soup with a soda on the side!" (Youtube it.) And back in the 'Hattan? Um, well, going up 1st avenue through the heart of the UES, it was your usual fair of drunks and boisterous fans. Fun, but nothing too remarkable. As bland as you would expect the UES to be - no offense, and thanks for coming out. Then back down 5th Avenue - well, by that time I was 22 miles deep into what was seeming like a bad acid trip in the middle of an Also Sprach Zarasthusta (2001) jam at Alpine Valley, so people were talking, but I couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Actually, I just kept my head down and tried not to make eye contact - again, kinda like a bad acid trip, but more fun! errrr

Next thing I know, I'm blazing down the path in Central Park, my thighs pretty much reaching Chernobyl meltdown proportions and Handsome's words were echoing in my head, "bobsled, BOBsled, BOBLSED!!!" And fuck if I didn't finish a fucking marathon. Me. Blogger. Binge drinker. Chronic smoker. And now...athlete. It was a great day indeed. Again, love you NYC, you da best.

I'll leave you with one observation: if you ever go to watch THE marathon, or any marathon for that matter, it is NOT, by no fucking stretch of the imagination, okay to stand at the first mile marker and yell, "Good job, keep it up, only 25 more miles to go!!" Motherfucker