So I ran the NYC marathon, yesterday. It was tough. Like…really, really, really tough. I’d joked to friends that I was just hoping to finish. Secretly I wanted to finish in 3:45, which I told no one…except the entire intrawebs when I took the above pic and posted to Instagram at the starting line. (Seeing this discarded placard seemed a harbinger of the marathon miracle I’d soon conjure.) Apologies to those I made think I’d finished in 3:45. I most assuredly did not. I finished in 4:25. A good time, but definitely not what I’d hoped…especially as I deluded myself for 18 miles by running 8:40. Because at mile 19…I hit a wall. I’m pissed at myself for not following the rules. I literally forgot it was a marathon. My out-sized ego magically believed in unicorns and marathon miracles. While the jury might still debate unicorns, marathon miracles don’t exist. You have to follow the rules. Let my idiocy serve as a learning experience for all of you. How NOT to Run a Marathon in …