Starting at mile 17, my yearning to begin walking ramped up exponentially at every water station, uphill, and mile marker. I hadn't trained enough for the race and it hit me full-force starting at 17. In the 3 months preceding the race, I probably went out and ran a total of 12 times. That wasn't nearly enough training to do something like this so I found out. Oh well, it was too late now so let the pain begin!

The next 7 miles from 17 to 24 were the hardest 7 miles of my short running life. My legs felt like lead weights, both my feet hurt really really bad, I was hot and dizzy so life wasn't good for me. My pace slowed down considerably, almost 1 ½ minute slower per mile. People have told me that running a marathon is just a mental game and that even though my mind told me to stop, my body can still go further. Before the race had started, I thought for sure that I'd begin walking at around mile 17 and my goal was to just finish. But for some reason, I made a goal adjustment while on the course, which was to run the whole thing and not walk. I just pressed on battling the urge to stop, curl up, and sleep on the side of the road. I knew that the Disney tri team had set up an aid station somewhere between mile 19 and 20 so that was something I had to get to without stopping. Let me tell you, when I did finally get there, boy was I hurting badly. Afterwards, my friend Tammy who was at the station told me that I looked really strong but the truth was that I felt awful. My body must have tried to convince me to just walk about 50 times during those torturous 7 miles. I kept thinking, I am walking as soon as I get to the next water station, the next mile maker or at the next hill. There was also fear that kept me going. I knew that if I did start to walk, I would never be able to run again so that kept me going. I told myself to put one foot in front of the other and that it was mind over matter. I remember getting my second wind at mile 21 but that lasted for about 5 minutes. By this time my running form was completely out the door, my head was cocked side-ways and my chin was resting on my chest. I barely lifted my foot up from the ground and when I gazed up to look for support I must have looked sick to everyone watching. Up to this point, I had been religiously eating and rationing my fuel/gel packs but I remember at mile 23, I said screw it and just began devouring those things because I felt like dieing. It was now just a matter of survival and whatever I could eat or drink I did. Miraculously, I kept going and ended up further then I ever thought I was capable of.

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