I practically crawled across the finish line and could barely walk afterward. But running the New York City Marathon was worth it.

I had been bugging my friend Alex Shorter (son of Olympic marathon gold medalist Frank Shorter) for years to run this race with me, and we finally made it a priority on the year we

both turned 30. I can't think of a better way to celebrate than by running with 40,000 people from all over the world and 2 million spectators.

I hadn't run a marathon in 12 years, so I was a little nervous. In fact, at the end of the last one I promised never to run again because I was in so much pain. Luckily, I have a bad memory -- and was ready to beat up my body for a chance to participate in this legendary race, the world's largest marathon.

The race started off Sunday with the boom of a cannon and was immediately followed by Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" blasting through loudspeakers at the foot of the Verrazano Bridge. My stomach is usually filled with butterflies at the beginning of races, but the mood was really carefree.

Around me, I heard languages from all over the world -- Japan, Denmark, Peru, Uruguay -- like a very athletic version of a United Nations meeting. Coming to New York from Colorado was nothing compared to the guy standing next to me, who flew from Norway just to be part of the fun.

The first two miles over the bridge were chilly, with the cool wind whipping our faces. That was actually the biggest hill on the course, and I was glad to have it out of the way early. Just as we stepped foot into Brooklyn, the crowds appeared, and it was an instant party. The noise was a deafening mix of cowbells, clapping and stereos blasting everything from hip-hop to techno. I got pumped up and ran to the side of the street, where I joined in the line of high-fives.

I felt like a rock star. The positive energy spewing from the crowds practically lifted me up and carried me along. This wasn't a race -- it was a 26-mile block party, and everyone was invited.

The quietest area on the course was the Queensboro Bridge between miles 15 and 16. All you could hear were the gentle tapping of footsteps -- a soothing change from the raucous crowds. As we ran on the lower deck, I looked off to my right and saw the Empire

Alex Shorter, left, and Ryan Van Duzer stand proudly with their medals after completing the New York City Marathon on Sunday. (Courtesy photo)
State Building and the rest of Manhattan looming below.

Just as we exited the bridge, the crowds returned with a vengeance. I think they missed seeing us. First Avenue was exploding with people; the crowds were probably 10 deep, and everyone was screaming at the top of their lungs. This bombardment of spirited cheering helped me forget about being tired. It's impossible not to feel inspired when everyone is yelling, "You're No. 1!" and "Go, go, go!"

As we headed into the Bronx, we'd covered 20 miles, and I was starting to feel a little wear and tear on the body. My muscles and joints were aching, and I tried to pump myself up by saying, "Just one Bolder Boulder to go."

The last 10 kilometers were painful. There was no whooping and hollering with the crowd, and there were definitely no more high-fives. Just as I thought I was going to start walking, I got blasted with more love from the crowds. I couldn't let them down, so I dug deep and ran as fast as I could across the finish line (probably slightly faster than a turtle). Alex was waiting for me with his trademark smile and gave me a big hug.