From Friday...the amazing women I got to spend the day with.
From Saturday...the skyline of Philadelphia as seen from my hotel window.
From Sunday...the cutest cheering section at the Portland Marathon.
My youngest brother Jake ran the Portland Marathon today, and being the sweet sister that I am, I gave up a couple hours of sleep so that I could go see him finish. After all, he was running more than 26 miles, which I admit is more difficult than losing some sleep.
The whole family gathered in downtown Portland to cheer on Jake, and he was a total rock star.
Now, before I do too much bragging, I have to say that running a marathon is a major accomplishment no matter what. Jason has run two, my dad has run a few (including the Boston Marathon) and my mom has run a few. I have it in mind to run one at some point in my life. Sarah and I made a fist-bump promise to run the Portland Marathon's Half Marathon next year. We can do it.
What we probably won't be able to do--but who knows, because we're very determined women--is do as well as Jake.
He got eighth place. Out of something like 10,000 runners.
His time was 2:32, which averages out to 6 minute miles.
Honestly, I couldn't run a six-minute mile even if it meant I'd win a mountain of chocolate for a prize. I could possible train for the rest of my life and not be able to run a six minute mile, let alone 26 of them. In consecutive order.
As for the rest of us? Six-minute milers any of you? I'm very proud of you if you can.
I'm also really proud of my little brother. He swears he won't ever run another marathon, so it was cool I got to witness his last one. Way to go, Bean. I know you worked hard.
Saturday's and Friday's stories to come...