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I was pretty much on par to hit my 4:00 goal -- or at least beat my 4:20 personal best -- for the first 20 miles on Sunday. But once the temperature inched past my comfort zone, I got all goosebumpy and dehydrated and slowed to an absolute crawl for the last six excruciating miles. But 4:50 isn't anything to be (too) embarrassed about, and it has a nice symmetry with the domestic partner's 5:40 time, both of which I emblazoned on a store-bought cake (with exclamation points! to show how proud I am of us!) for our marathon victory party tonight:
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I normally have the penmanship of a drunken third-grader. And from the looks of this cake, I clearly have the squirtfrostingmanship of a legally sober zygote. But I have to say my 5s look pretty professional here. So I might still have a career in cake decorating. Right after I master the art of taking pictures of the people who came to our party instead of just the store-bought pastries.
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