The weather folks changed their forecast this morning – the rain would hold off until 10 am. And to their credit credit, at 10 am the heavens opened up. For the best really as the rain obscured my tears of frustration, of pain, of failure.
While a marathon can be a rousing success and a measure of victory at 26.2 miles, it also affords waves of failure crashing upon you if you’re not careful. Such was today. A cramp in my side, the likes of which I’ve seen on TV when people overact on medical shows. An ever slowing pace. The hope to beat the rain thwarted. The need to get done in a timely manner to get back out to the airport for a flight back to LA jeopardized.
I finished. But the lack of sleep, myngeberal pudginess, and the stream of pace group times passing me by … 3:15, then 3:20, then 3:25… all contributed to a sense of letting myself down. Let’s be honest, it’s only me that was let down. I wasn’t raising money for charity, I wasn’t running to save lives. It’s just my own silly ego and my own silly foolishness.
Sigh. Let’s see if I make it back in time for U2.
