Well there’s the death where you have just enough time to think “Oh, shit!”. Then there’s the death where you die in excruciating pain like in a fire or gun shot that doesn’t kill you quickly. Then there is the death where you just kind of melt away in a quiet, illusion of peace.

A marathon is all three of those in one except that finishers keep coming back until it is finally all over.

I ran the Newport Oregon Marathon. They handed out oysters on the course. For some reason, there weren’t many takers.

Bacon at mile 18 would be amazing. Salty and fatty but not too filling. Especially if you handed out 1/2 or 1/3 strips.