Apparently, my ex, Mr. Marathon, is mad at me. He didn't take the break up too well. Things got ugly and I left with a busted up foot in a cast (two weeks - no running).
He was just so upset that I wanted to leave his 26 miles of agony for his much more pleasant brother, Mr. Half. He couldn't understand how I could find fulfillment in a mere 13.1 miles. There was yelling and crying (all on my end, by the way). He begged and pleaded and offered discounted race fees. But it wasn't enough. It will never be enough.