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| It continued to get tougher to keep my heart rate up but I pushed as best I could and I think that I was able to hold eight minute miles. My body threatened to rebel a few times with dry heaves and one mini-heave. However, I was able to keep my stomach in check and avoid any serious incidents. I neared the site of the run bag hand-off and I started my mantra of 1-3-5-9, 1-3-5-9. I wasn't able to raise my voice much but someone said that they would sort me on the way back. Disappointed that my letter reading would be delayed, I pressed on. All of a sudden there was a guy running up beside me with my bag. Yippee. I opened my bag, ditched the tortilla chips and grabbed the letter. I read Luke's entry one more time and it started to choke me up. I was pushing and having the best race that I could imagine. After everything that had gone on in the last few months, I was in the middle of something very special, something that was 100% of my own creation and something that was clean and pure. Burn, burn, burn. I flipped the letter over and read my notes to myself. Push, push, push, daylight finish, bring the hammer down, there is no tomorrow. Back to business, I chucked the card at an aid station. Sitting here, I wish that I had saved it. Perhaps I needed to distance myself from the emotion. I started to push myself back up to eight-minute miles. Checking my watch, I realised that sub-10:40 was now possible, but tough. I started doing calculations at each mile marker 10:40 minus (number of miles * eight minutes) minus two minutes. I was only pulling in about five seconds per mile, my heart rate was staying the same but my breathing was heavy and I was starting to heat up and sweat. About a half mile from the exit to the Energy Lab, I saw Chuckie V with his hands on his hips heaving in the grass. He was going through a tough patch (to say the least). I gave him a few words of encouragement on my way past, he returned the favour and said that I was looking strong. It says a lot about the nature of an IM race that the guy that won IMC eight weeks earlier was cheering the middle of the pack eight weeks later. We gave each other a knuckle bump. I was grateful for the physical contact. The race was starting to take its toll on those around me. I saw puking, cramping, bonking and lots of walking. I was hanging tough but was pushing harder and harder to hold my eight minute miles. My legs were tired and my energy reserves seemed okay. However, I wasn't taking anything for granted. Next Page |  At this stage, mile 25, I think the strain is starting to show. |