10:30 a.m. — Ahh, sweet, cold, wet victory. Crossing the finish line was euphoric! I find my bae, M., who finished almost a half an hour before me, and we revel in our glory. We take a few selfies with our finisher medals (duh), and then over hobble to the medical tent. We're both bleeding and semi-paralyzed from the waist down, so beer seems like the only logical remedy. We head over to Coney Island Brewery and maneuver our way through the dense crowd where finishers are both celebrating and taking shelter from the rain. We order two beers and I treat ($16). First half marathon? Yes. First time drinking a beer before 11 a.m.? Classified information. Feeling accomplished, exhausted, and slightly buzzed, we make our way to the Q train and ride it from one end (Coney Island) to the other (96th street). Despite living only one block and four avenues from the train stop, we are too crippled to walk, and decide to cab it. M pays. $16