From being a proud parent to having my proud parent visit

With Global Classrooms finishing late on Wednesday night, there was not much time for me to rest up. The next day, my dad made his way to Spain! Some of you may not know how big a deal this was, but Terry Clemons has never been out of the country. Terry Clemons loves Disney World. And jorts. Neither of which can be found here in Spain. But nevertheless, he made his first trek across the Atlantic to visit me. He was only here for about 5 full days, but we made it count.
He was supposed to get here Thursday morning, but his flight was delayed, apparently because of fog in Madrid. When he finally arrived in the afternoon, we hit the ground running. I took him all through the city centre, showed him the major plaza's and Retiro Park, and introduced him to calamari sandwiches (yes, amazingness on a plate). I then made dinner at my apartment: paella of course, a typical Spanish dish of rice and seafood.
On Friday, we made our way outside of Madrid (which Dad compared to NYC) to the small town of Toledo. I had never been there, and always have heard that it is a great example of a true Spanish town. We took the high-speed train there and spent the day sightseeing in the great city, including a ride on a double-decker tour bus. It rained a little and was cold, but it was still a great day in a great city.

Dad and me at the lookout with Toledo in the background.

Now let's get to the main reason Dad made his way to Spain. On Sunday, March 7, we both ran in the Barcelona Marathon. It was my first, Dad's 10th or 11th. So we woke up early at 5:30 am (passport in tow this time) on Saturday and made our way to the airport to catch a flight to Barcelona. Of course, Dad got to experience an aspect of Madrid that many miss: the 6 am metro ride with the Spaniards who are just making their way home for the night, drunk and loud and overall annoying. But we made it to the airport, making our way out of the rainy Madrid into the sunny Barcelona.
Saturday in Barcelona was fairly relaxing, saving our energy for the race the next day. We went to pick up our race packets and buy marathon T-shirts, walked down Las Ramblas (the main pedestrian street in Barcelona), ate some pasta, and saw the Mediterranean Sea. The weather was fairly perfect, showing promises for a great race day. Luckily, the 4-star hotel we stayed in was so nice and quiet and allowed us to get a good night's sleep before the race.

Dad by the starting line of the race on Saturday morning.
Dad's first time at the Mediterranean Sea!

Sunday: race day! We woke up early, made our way the 2 metro stops from our hotel to the starting line, and got ready. The weather was nice, sunny and 40˚, but I was still a little nervous for my first marathon experience. I wanted to run under 3 hours, 30 minutes, which means about 4:58 each kilometer (yes, they do it in km here. which means we ran 42 km). I had a band that they gave me saying my pace times to hit, and I felt ready to do it. I started off so well, keeping with eye-shot of the pacer wearing the 3 hours, 15 minutes pace balloon. We made our way through the city, past the famous soccer stadium Camp Nou, Gaudi's Sagrada Familia church, and many other famous Barcelona sights. The crowd was great, chanting our names which were big and bold on our race bibs. I came through the half-way point at 1 hour 37 minutes, way ahead of my pace time. But when I reached about mile 20, I hit a wall. My legs started to hurt badly, and my spirits kind of dropped. I had to walk some, but still kept moving. With about 1 km to go, I saw the pacer with the 3 hours, 30 minutes pace balloon run past. I knew I needed to keep up with him, so I picked it up for a strong finish. When I crossed the line, I looked at my watch for my finish time: 3:29:49. I did it! My first marathon in under 3:30!
Of course, being done did not mean that the pain was over. I had a lot of trouble walking up the 3 flights of stairs to retrieve my bag of clothes, then just had to lay down in the expo center and try to eat and drink something to feel better. After about an hour of laying down (and apparently looking miserable, as a Spanish couple came up to me and gave me food and drink and put their coats around me to warm me up), I made my way outside to try and see Dad finish. Unfortunately, I left the finish line to head back to the hotel about 10 minutes before Dad came through, at 5:07:38. For only training a couple of months, that was awesome! Overall, it was a great first marathon!

The race start.
Me running along the way. This must have been early, because I'm still smiling.

Me with my medal at the finish line after finishing the race (and recovering enough to walk).
Dad crossing the finish line!

After showering and recovering that afternoon, we made our way up (by bus, of course. no more walking for us) to Gaudi's Park Guell to see views of the city we just conquered. We then went down to Las Ramblas and each enjoyed a fresh-made waffle covered in chocolate syrup and ice cream. Amazingness on a plate. It was a great end to a great day.

Dad and me on top of the city in Park Guell with Barcelona and the sea in the background.

On Monday, we made our way back to Madrid and I showed Dad some more of the sights, including the Prado, the random Egyptian temple, and of course an all-you-can-eat buffet. That night, he got to meet Vicki, Becca, and Miguel at Patatús, one of our favorite restaurants (even though it's where I lost my iTouch 2 weeks ago). Then the next morning it was back to the airport for Dad to go back home.

Dad with Vicki, Miguel, me, and Becca at Patatús.

Although the visit was short, I was so glad to have Dad come to visit Spain and be there with me in Barcelona for my first marathon. It was such a great continuance for the month of March. So ready for all the rest that the month has in store for me!