In precisely that order

I pooped, then I qualified for the Boston Marathon, then my life got crazy.

Oh, Internets, it's been a week, and I've not meant to be away this long. I have a lot of posts brewing in my head, but ever since I got back from the race last weekend, I've been hard at work. I think I may be allergic to it as evidenced by the oh-so-nice pubescent breakout I have invading my highly sensitive T-zone.

But let's talk about the fun stuff.

Okay, first things first: the pooping. Let's say all my obsessing over if I'd be able to have a pre-race victory paid off. And when I say obsessing, I think that may be an understatement of the fact. Poor Mr. McMichael. All day Saturday was spent with me either a) talking about how I needed to poop first thing in the morning, b) eating anything I could that would increase my odds of pooping first thing in the morning, or c) me talking about the things I could eat that would lead to said pooping. So it could have been the giant Chipotle burrito bowl,the extra helpings of vegetables and salad, the beer (yes, I did allow myself one beer just because I was so paranoid of constipation), or the basket of tater tots (oops), or it could of been the visualizations, or the dozens of blog readers who were sending me their best thoughts for a smooth morning, but something got me started off on the right foot.

Then it was off to the races. I could not have asked for a better day or better race. It was all-in-all fantastic. From the friends I was surprised to see out on the course--some running and some cheering on the sidelines--to the fact that I have never felt so good during and after a marathon ever. My second favorite part of the race came at mile 17.5, after the longest hill climb to the highest point on the course--the St. John's Bridge. Running across the apex of the bridge overlooking the Columbia River, with downtown Portland a few miles in the distance, "Don't Stop Believin" came on the ipod.

I felt a surge of energy that was indescribable. First of all, that song is one of my favorites. Love me some Journey--I even have an unbreakable jukebox rule about Journey. If I'm putting money into a jukebox to play music, Journey MUST be played. On top of that, the song became even more important to me this summer--it was the song AP and I belted out with the band at her wedding when I assumed the role of obnoxious wedding singer, and was also the theme to 1980s Prom. So, I'm running across the bridge thinking of all of the memories and friends I have wrapped up in that song, and I realized then and there, I was going to qualify--something I had been fighting really hard to believe all summer.

Definitely an awesome moment.

But my favorite part of the race was Mr. McMichael. He was the one-man Little Ms. Notetaker chase team. We had determined the best places for him to meet me out on the course to give me gus and any other little pick-me-ups I needed to get through that beast. When I neared the mile markers where I knew he'd be, I would perk up and start scanning the crowd for that comforting face that I know and love--and the whole world would melt away when I laid my eyes on him.

During my training, I was talking with the Commish and Monster about how I was excited that Mr. McMichael was going to be going to the race with me. One of my tests for guys I've dated in the past has been envisioning myself in this exact scenario, running a grueling race, trying to qualify for Boston, and if I could picture them there with me at the finish line, then I knew they were a good match. Mr. McMichael is the only person that has ever fit into those pictures in my mind.

And as that imaginary scenario played itself out in real life, the face I scanned the crowd for after crossing the finish line was his and as soon as I saw it, I experienced a tremendous emotional release. With a great sob, I was in his arms--crying because of what I had just put my body through, because I had finally accomplished the goal I set out to reach 2.5 years ago, and because he was there and it felt even better than how I had been picturing it all that time.

Mr. McMichael, thank you. You are awesome.