Well, that happened. In the parlance of my grandpa Floyd, I "started, farted, and fell." Ironically enough some flatulence would have been welcome. I went into this race feeling like I was in pretty good shape, and perhaps a PR was in the mix. I didn't sleep super well the night before. Nevertheless, things started decently but went down hill after Veyo. At mile 8, I was right around 1:00:00. After that, climbing Dammeron, my legs didn't have much to give. 2 years ago, I was motoring past people. I got motored this year. I reached the half around 1:42:00 and felt like I was in decent shape timewise, but my stomach was really starting to get fussy with sloshing and cramping. From this point, the course is mostly downhill. That proved to be the case for my race as well. I was looking for anyway to alleviate my stomach--false pitstops, walking, and even manual pressure. I hit the pots at 14, 17, and 20. All were "fruitless." The walking started intermittently after that until roughly mile 23. I don't know why, but I just couldn't power through the stomach issues, and every downhill grade was brutal. Every other stepped, I could hear the demons of the marathon throwing rocks in the well of my stomach. At this point I was just waiting for anyone I knew to pass me, so that could be done with. There were fewer than I expected to come by. It must have been a rough day for many folks. These miles must have been scary pacewise because I positively split by like 36-37 minutes. On the other hand, the last 3 miles felt better than the other 2 marathons that I have run. Once I came down into town, the stomach started to calm down a bit--perhaps the change in pace allowed my stomach to do its job, finally--and the crowd really helped. Thankfully, I didn't hear any "You're almost there"s. I did see quite a few people I knew cheering. As I got through the first aid station on Diagonal, Tyson and Trevor came along to run me in. I know I was a bit ornery, and in my mind was cursing them the whole time, but they really, really helped me. I can't thank them enough. We worked into a fairly steady pace. Once we reached Tabernacle, I was able to pick it up and push past people. I even passed the 4-hour pace group at the roundabout. By the time we hit 300 south, the boys were trying to coach me to speeds that I probably wouldn't have on a normal day with a fresh body. I gave them all that I had at that point. I don't know the split for that last mile, but I'm sure that is was my best mile all day. Thanks, guys. I was pretty glad to be done and ready to be home. I realized that I'm at my orneriest after a marathon because marathons are very, very taxing, both mentally and physically. A few years back, I would have been pleased with my time today, but I left the parked feeling purty darned disappointed. But I guess I shouldn't be too bummed out because, honestly, the marathon hasn't been my top running priority this year. In the end, there were many positive things about the day: 1. I finished. 2. I was able to notice others around me and admire the great effort that so many give to run a marathon. My long lost buddy from Oregon and I were able to chat at one point.
3. Disappointment brings reflection. 4. So many people bring their joy and service to so many others during a marathon. 5. It's great to know that so many people love and care. P.S. I added an extra .05 to the mileage for the bathroom breaks and because I don't deal in anything shorter than a 1/4 mile.
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