Crossing the finish line it occurred to me, I couldn't feel anything below my waist. This morning, I can. I suppose that's what a 26.2 marathon will do to you. What an amazing race. At times I was overjoyed, disgusted, exhilerated, depressed. And finally, relieved --- to cross the finish line --- breathing.

My first thoughts: I need a nurse and a cheeseburger.

An odd assortment of characters on this race through the Big Apple. Most notably --- Papa Smurf. I thought for a second I had become delusional. I'm really going to have to take a break, I thought. But a fellow runner indeed told me Papa Smurf had just smoked my behind. No Smurfette sightings.

Lots of great music along the way --- from Brooklyn, through Queens, into the Bronx. My favorite -- the jazz in Harlem.

My official time is posted here. Not too bad for a guy whose had heart surgery.

And you know, I do believe I'll be running next year's big race. I think. Possibly. Let me get back to you on that. Right now, I could really use that nurse.