The Marathon - Part 2

A lot of thoughts were going through my mind at this point. In no particular order, here were some...
1. What would my friends and family think?
2. What about all the people who'd donated money for charity?
3. If I did somehow make it to the finish, would I be dead last?
4. Finish or not, how would I make it home, through two flights and three airports the next day?
5. What would I do if the left leg went out too?

The last question was a big one. Up until now, leftie was doing almost all the hard work, but there's only so much I could ask of it. Would it hold out?

I hauled myself up and kept going, resolving that I would not stop again for any reason. I knew I might not be able to start again if I did.

The next few miles ticked by slowly, but the ice bags and tylenol did help somewhat. It also illicited some sympathetic words of encouragement from onlookers. I ate my GU, went through the Scottsdale Art District I'd ambled so comfortably through only one day earlier - I was a little sad that I hadn't got to enjoy this part running. I'd been looking forward to that section ever since I'd done the drive through. Limping painfully through it wasn't how I envisioned it back then.

At mile 20, I started picturing myself back in Overland Park doing one of the routes I'd been running for the past few months. I always ran loops of 10k or less, so I knew exactly how far I had to go, and though I hadn't done it walking, I was at least vaguely aware of the fact that I'd never gone further at one time, walk or run, in my life than I had completed then.

The sun became a factor over the next few miles. I was by this stage at peace with the fact I was going to finish in a much slower time than hoped for. I started picturing myself as a heroic warrior with some serious injury, perhaps a gunshot wound, heroically making his way back to base camp to present news of the war to the General lest the battle would be lost. As my skin turned red and my eyes squinted, I walked down a wide open highway in an increasingly sparse crowd of runners and spectators.

At mile 24, I could feel the leg start to deteriorate more, but knew that with only 2 miles to go, it would basically take something like it falling off altogether for me to stop. Nevertheless, it slowed me down even more, and I started wondering what exactly I had done so wrong to deserve this.

At mile 25, another runner came up on my shoulder and said something - I don't even know what, but it was enough for me to strike up a conversation. He too was carrying an injury - a bad ankle - and seemed to come at the perfect time for me, being quite willing to keep me company the whole way in. We passed the last water station and grabbed a drink, and all at once, we saw the last turn into the Sun Devil stadium parking lot ahead. We turned, then turned again, and there it was... the oasis in the desert - the arch representing the culmination of 4+ months of hard slog in the cold, the heat, the rain and the snow.

Determined that my finish line picture would be of me running, I tried to break back into a run for the last few steps, but instead managed only a strange skipping motion, my right leg now able to take almost no weight at all.

My finish time, 5:46:07, was slower than I would have considered possible, yet I was far from last, with runners, walkers, joggers, and crawlers still coming in. I said goodbye to my new friend and headed straight into the medical tent for more ice, my biggest regret later that I hadn't secured his email address.

I had done it. Everything that I'd feared came to pass, and yet, somehow, I'd fought through it and finished my marathon.