Like with any hard exercise, it is usually the day after -- or the day after that -- that you feel the soreness.

My legs are heavy and sore. Walking up & down stairs is painful -- running up (and especially, down) them is not even an option. Everything from the neck down is sore. My my shoulders, my upper arms and my chest (that's what i get for carrying the tension in my upper body). I could bore you with more of my aches and pains, but suffice to say, everything hurts.

My mind, however, is in a much better place today.

It's weird -- the things that go through your head in the final miles of a marathon. I'm sure that what everyone's experience is completely personal, but I suspect that at some point -- average marathoners (like me) start to think irrationally.

Want a peek into the mind of a marathoner at 19+ miles? Here are a few of the bizzare thoughts I remember having:

1. At mile 19: "I should quit. I want to quit. But, how will I get back to the start. I guess I'll just have to keep running" (never occured to me that any of the volunteers could've found me a ride -- good thing I didn't think of that though, eh?).

2. When we were running by the lake, there were all these jagged rocks -- sort of like what is in some places on the bay side at Presque Isle -- and I thought "if I hurl myself onto these rocks, then, surely, they will take me back to the finish line and I can still save face. I could probably make it look like I tripped."

3. At some point in mile 23, I became obsessed with the thought of laying down. "God, I would kill to just lie down on this concrete -- or on that grass over there....oh God, I can almost feel what it will feel like...so wonderful to just lie there." It was like gravity was calling to me.

4. Mile 24 I couldn't stop thinking about watermelon and wondered if they'd have any at the finish line, but then I realized it was May and it was highly unlikely they'd have watermelon. Bananas, oranges ... probably, but not watermelon. Still, I thought about it for a good 1/2 a mile.

It occured to me today that I don't think I will never be able to listen to the "Hard Rock" playlist on my iPod again -- because it will always remind me of the darkest miles of that marathon. If I ever hear "Love is Like Oxygen" again, I will be transported to that park in Cleveland -- with that beautiful stone tunnel covered in moss -- that I desperately wanted to lay down under.

I don't remember too much about the final stretch except that I was too far gone to enjoy it. There was a crowd of hundreds cheering. You could hear the roar as I turned the final corner. And, sadly, I don't think I ever looked up or around at them. It took everything I had to keep running toward the clock.

After the run, we walked back to the hotel to shower (we had to be out by noon), then we packed up the car & went back to the finish line to partake in the "after race" party. It wasn't much of a party -- seems marathoners aren't much up for a party after running 26 miles -- go figure. So we took our beers to the grassy lawn near the finish line and watched some of the later finishers come in.

By this time, they were finishing in 5 1/2 to 6 hours. And, you know ... every one of them was happy. They raised their arms in victory, they smiled and they picked it up all the way to the finish line. Their family and friends who were there to cheer them on, took photos and clapped them on the back. Kids and grandkids ran to greet their special finisher. More than a few of the runners crossed the line carrying one -- or two kids -- who had run out to meet them.

And, I felt humbled and ashamed for sulking about my 4:06.

I'm so glad we went back (I just wanted to go home). Seeing the later finishers put things back into perspective -- even if I couldn't really see it yesterday. I see it now. My mind is clearer. Rational thought has returned.

And I'm grateful -- for rational thoughts, for the humility of defeat and for a body that can run 26.2 miles in 4 hours and 6 minutes.