And then this happened

Head out. I have resolved that I will be happy to simply re qualify for Boston (a 3:40), but I want to beat my Boston PB which was about 3:31.
I'm running and I'm listening to my music and I want to go faster but I know better than that so I reign it in with five minute kilometers. And it's just a beautiful day. I look out over the ocean and I almost crash into another runner as I check out this beautiful mod house and I'm feeling good, giving volunteers high fives and grinding up the hills.
About half an hour into my run I realize Michael is close to finishing his half marathon and, at that moment, he becomes my idol. I mean, he's done by 9:10 and has time to go back to the hotel, shower and have a brief nap if he so chooses before coming out to cheer us fulls on. Half marathons are where it's at.
But I plug on and I'm on track for a 3:30 marathon. I'm hydrating. I'm fueling well. I'm envisioning the finish line. It's all good. I pass the halfway point and I see D and L and some other runners and I think "every step I take now is a step that brings me closer to home".
Around the 26 or 28k mark I start encountering knee pain and I realize I haven't brought any Ibuprofen with me. Sometimes it goes away after a while, but this wasn't going away. Now the hills seemed steeper and more grueling and the pain was surpassing the normal joint pain and encroaching on the pain that I encountered on my first marathon which landed me at a sports clinic at UBC where they told me to scale back on my running. Terrific.
Around 32 kilometres I considered walking off the course and making my way back to the hotel because the pain was worsening, but I didn't have any money with me. My 3:30 marathon was still barely attainable, but I knew I wasn't keeping the same pace that I had for the past 30k.
And then this most excellent thing happened: I started getting cramps in my right calf. I have only cramped in one other marathon and it was pretty warm that day. I don't cramp. And I had been eating bananas all freaking week, so WTF?
I didn't know what to do. I took another gel. I grabbed some Gatorade. I went to the curb and tried to stretch it out (I have never done that before on a run). And the cramps would just come back and I could feel my foot and calf cramping up to the point that I couldn't run anymore. I was just totally frustrated and despondent.
Michael had said he would try and see me at a point before the finish line to get some photos and I thought that I would just walk off the course when I saw him and go back to the hotel because, for whatever reason, a Did Not Complete was preferable to a 3:55 marathon or whatever it was going to be if I walked it in.
Michael wasn't at the corner he said he would be at. I stopped for a third time to try and stretch out my fucking calve and as I started to run I could feel my toes curling up in my shoe and I just didn't know how to stop it. I had no sodium tablets. I wasn't carrying any bananas with me. I had four kilometres to go with a wrecked left knee and a cramping right calf and I was stopping to walk constantly.
At some point I realized I was in the same boat as I was a year ago: I could get in under 3:40, but I would have to push it. So I turned up my music and I told myself that all the pain was simply in my head and I went for it.
The final mile seemed like an eternity and I must have had pain and discomfort sketched on my face because a spectator said, "you're doing good: only 800 metres to go" and I saw all these flags from various countries fluttering in the distance and I didn't fully comprehend that that was the finish line and I heard the announcer call out my name and age and where I was from and I was just in pain and I finished with a 3:39:45.
Not a good run. Last year I finished maybe twenty seconds faster, but I felt like a million bucks. Where in the hell did this knee pain come from, and what was with the cramping?
At any rate: it was not the run I had hoped for. What I did enjoy was a weekend away with Michael; hanging out with D and L; bumping into various runners at the finish; the beautiful city of Victoria; the stunning drive up and down the island; re qualifying for Boston; encouraging a marathoner that had started two hours before me when I saw her shortly before the finish line; and simply finishing what I had started.