I was physically not well. My quad hurt, my knee was screaming and my ankle was starting to make the whole thing into a trio. I thought I could throw up at any point. I even tried to drink some Gatorade at a Fluid Station.
At some point, I saw the time clock. I did some math and knew that if I stayed at this walking pace, I would not finish in under 5 hours.
Time to Be Bold and Dig Deep, Lynnie. This is it!
I tried various strides and various 'forms' and finally found one that had me moving and the pain was tolerable.
It was ugly - I saw photos of it and I laughed, right out loud. My shoulders are up around my eye lobes, my elbows are way far out and my back is curved. I just needed to get to the finish line.
The crowd did not bail on me. I heard my name more than I can count. There were comments about my power walk. People were so awesome, I was forced to raise my head and smile at them. The crowd got me through the last 2 miles.
One guy totally pissed me off.
After passing the 25 mile marker and trying the Gatorade (it did no harm and did not help), some spectator on my left yells out "Only a half mile to go." Okay, I say, at this pace, I bet it's 100 right foots per tenth of a mile. This is a game I would play with myself while training. My 'good stride' was 80 right foots per tenth. So, I say, you can do 500 right foots. You can.
I start counting.
Son of a Bitch! at 170 right foots, there is the .5 mile official marker.
I was crestfallen.
I did not slow and I did not stop. I started counting again.
There was the finish line.
That is a magnificent picture.
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