Here's me at the sixth mile or so. On the back of my shirt reads "RUN TODD RUN!" as you can see the runners glaring at me like, "What the...?" Yeah, I'm an idiot.
Here I am with the champ himself somewhere around the 18th mile if I recall correctly. Now, it looks like I've been running the entire time, but I haven't. I think I had run about 40 feet or so when this photo was taken. Since I didn't put Vaseline in the hot spots, I began to blister at about the 35th foot so I saw Todd on his way with some Gatorade and a banana. Man, my lovely wife always tells me my form is horrible when I run. Now I see it. Of course, now I'm about 20 pounds lighter and don't have my Billy Gibbons so I can break wind with the best of them. Figuratively and flatulantly.
I'm not sure if it's the Vaseline, the bananas or those ugly dust rags you call shorts, but Bro Bro, marathons just ain't my steez. But I have a new respect for runners. Specifically Todd and that guy that runs past my house about four times a day.