Perhaps it was a perfectly befitting and befittingly perfect race for me and my mindset.
I should have done better.
I should have tried harder.
I should have *been* better.
What occurred instead was a personal disappointment. My mind, my body, even my heart gave out… or gave up.
So after crossing the finish line, feeling the ignominy weighing upon me, I shook my head in dismay. Brian had passed me early in the race and was waiting for me and other folks he knew. He humbly told me he kinda blew up around mile 20. But he still comfortably pulled a BQ time. I… did not.
I needed to rush back to my car to make my noon flight out of Phoenix. As a result I couldn’t work out the logistics and lines to get recovery food. Fortunately, somebody was walking around with a tray full of thick French Toast. I tried eating it and while it was good, it tasted salty, though that may have been because instead of syrup I soaked it with my tears.
Not really… metaphorically. I didn’t have time for tears… I had to make it to the clustermuck that is the Phoenix Sky Harbor rental car center. They say they’re upgrading it for future customer experiences. This is a universal problem – the new and improved sometimes causes MASSIVE headaches for the present. If in the end it is better, one can accept such inconveniences. But all too often the new and improved is oddly equivalent so why bother… and when it makes things worse, well, sweet Pete.
This is the last known photo of me in my gear checked sweatshirt. Hopefully they’ve donated it to a worthy cause.
Little Red Running Hood.