The photos from CIM came out today — not that Steve didn’t take a few on his phone. What is interesting about the pictures and the ones Steve took, including a video (which I just can’t get off his phone because he is not here and I am being the hugest bum in the world this week) is that I don’t look like I’m in the most pain I’ve ever been in. I don’t look like I’m basically walking and like I’m positive I won’t be able to finish. For the most part, I look the same as when I was running well. Eventually, I look like I’m about to die in the pictures. But, long before it shows up on film, I was already falling apart. The thing is: it’s not visible to anyone else.
This is right where things started to go really bad, because I remember that guy. And I remember the photographer. And, I remember thinking my legs are failing and I am in excruciating pain:
Crossing this bridge was probably the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time. It was about four miles to go. Four miles. How was I possibly ever going to make it four miles?
OK, this is where I finally look like I’m about to fall over. Because I am. The people at the finish line started yelling at me right after this to keep moving and I almost punched them in the face:
And, yes, for the record, it got really cold after I slowed down. I took the long sleeve off around six miles in and was totally fine while I was moving. But, when I slowed down 2’/mile my core temperature dropped too. I think it screwed me up permanently because I basically didn’t warm up for two or three days.
Just remember, though, no one else can tell how much it hurts.