Paul ran the Columbus Marathon on Sunday in 4 hours 35 minutes. If that isn't impressive enough, his split was about 20 minutes faster than the Brooklyn Half-Marathon he ran in May.
Yes, I'm certainly proud of Paul, but I can't say I understand him. I know that running 26.2 miles is a test of endurance, a goal to strive for. But I could never endure the aches, pains and hours of training. And I guess I only strive for a car with a full tank of gas.
My flight was changed to Sunday evening from Monday daybreak, so I was able to watch Paul try to bend his knees to walk for only a few hours before I had to catch a flight home.
The plane took off an hour late, but worse than that was the trip from the airport to the apartment. Night and weekend trains don't run as often, so between waiting for the bus and three different trains, it took more than two hours to get home-- longer than the flight itself. I already miss how simple things are in Columbus.
Paul returned this afternoon while I was at work (the lucky boy has about twice as many vacation days as I do). More about our Ohio vacation later.