Remember to hydrate

So I pushed on.
It got lonely given that three quaters of the people continued back down the strip while we turned right down some lonely underpass. The spectators markedly diminished. Because I had entered the 2nd corral instead of the 4th like I was supposed to I was running with some pretty fast people and I was starting to fail to keep up. Runners were passing me constantly. I thought I had made a mistake and wondered if I could double back and finish off with the halfs.
It went downhill from there. Fast. An injury re-surfaced around 15 miles. The gremlins became just too much to bear. I kept on thinking about the hubris of attempting to run marathons 8 weeks apart. I felt that I hadn't kept up with the exercises that the physiotherapist had taught me as much as I should. I was worried that I hadn't slept well for a couple of nights. That I was physically tired because I hadn't had a break since my last marathon. I wondered if I was drinking enough water because my feet were starting to cramp up.
I passed the halfway mark and looked at my watch. I was on track for 3.32 marathon which would be slightly slower than my time in Boston.
The injury was getting worse. The cramping wasn't going away. There wasn't a thought in my head that wasn't negative or that wasn't telling me that I sucked, that I had under trained, that I was under prepared and that I wasn't committed.
And I wasn't committed. I could give a shit about the run. I didn't want to be there. My body wasn't working correctly and there was no way that I could push through it to get a decent time without copious amounts of extra strength Ibuprofen (which I had failed to bring with me).
At two hours and five minutes I turned off my watch and decided that whatever it took to get through the run would be fine.
I walked.
I stopped caring.
When I felt better I ran again.
I used the porta pottie on the course. I was kind of pleased about this because I've never stopped to go pee before and I've often wanted to.
I walked through aid stations.
I enjoyed my music. I thought about how lucky I was to simply be there in the first place. The time, the training, the money.
The day before had been miserable: pouring rain and cold. On race day it was a beautific, sunny, crisp day and it was my favourite temperature to run in. The volunteers egged me on. I appreciated the bands along the course. It was an out and back section of the course and I saw one of the leaders walking at mile 23. I had never seen someone in the lead pack walk before and it threw me. The 3:35 pace leader passed me. I looked out over the desert and saw strands of sun piercing through the mild cloud cover and I thought everyone needed to look out and appreciate the beauty of it. The 3:40 pace leader passed me. I wondered where Michael was on the course. I waved at the overhead cameras and put on my game face because, even though I was in a lot of pain I was, for some bizarre reason, starting to have fun.