I'm still trying to digest the fact that last week I finished my 30th marathon.
Four years ago I was a pacer in the New York City Marathon. I was the guy who held up a sign that said 5 hours and those that stuck with me finished the marathon in 5:01:30. I thought that was the guy that would do that every fall and I thought every spring I was gonna go find a rural marathon and see how fast I could do it.
Then GBS happened. I got a freakishly rare disease that nobody ever heard of and doctors lined up to tell me I'd be fine in a year. WTF, fine in a year isn't something you tell someone to make them happy. It might be something a gardener would say about someone's shrubbery, but I was a human being. Whatever, I've accepted the fact that I'm never going to be fine.