Here’s what I learned yesterday:  marathons hurt.

Okay, so I won’t bore you with all the gory details.  I’ll just say that my hopes for a nice crisp day were dashed; while it wasn’t hot, it was near 100% humidity and 70 degrees at the start, and up past 80 degrees with 75 percent humidity at the finish.  Plenty to make a super-heavy sweater like me really, really suffer.

It’s strange the things that hurt, too — like my right shoulder, which felt like I’d been socked in the front of it after I’d done 300 single-arm flyes.  And the agonizing sideache a few miles from the finish.  I don’t think I’d had a sideache before that since high school!

So the low points:  a) hitting the halfway point and feeling like hell already.  They say the marathon begins at mile 20.  Mine started waaayyy earlier!  And b) finally being forced by the aforementioned sideache to walk for lengthy periods from mile 22 on.

But the high points?  Making the final turn onto the finishing straight in Hurley, Wisconsin, the whole downtown lined with a cheering crowd.  Finding my family in that throng right there before the line and raising my arms in triumph, as my sister the finish line announcer made one of my years-long dreams come true and trumpeted my finish over the PA.  The kiss from my beautiful wife Miss ViVi and the high-five from my older son, The Reverend Doctor Vinoski Sweetness.  The nice cold bottle of Gatorade from my oldest brother John.  And the willingness of all of them to hug my sopping, smelly self!

Sitting down (glory of glories!) in the shade right after the finish.  And the nap later that afternoon.  And the effusive congratulations from all over, electronically from my friends on Facebook and in person from the waitresses at the Liberty Bell Chalet.

Note to Shell:  only my left nipple bled, just a little bit.