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| I had some great patches from eight to 16K when the cola kicked in and managed to pull a few minutes back. However, the hills at six and 30K had left me with about a five minute deficit. I was also a bit worried about exploding (or at least I had convinced myself of this point) and didn’t hammer. All aid stations were walked for beverages and ice in my hat. It was an inner struggle and relative to those around me I was running OK. The pain was on the inside. Frankly, it was the essence of Ironman. You feel like crap, you very badly want to stop, you question your sanity for continuing but you persevere. Why? No real reason other than the drive to finish what you started. It is one of those things that you need to face for yourself. Many people walk at this stage. I kept running. At around the 16K mark I see Norman Stadler heading towards the turnaround and I make a decision to try to hold him off to the finish (he finishing, I am on lap #1). I manage this as even Norman can’t make up 3K on me with 5K to go! The start of the second lap is a lot better, my stride length is good, it has clouded over and I don’t feel like quitting any more. I realised that it is "just" 1:40 or so of running left and I know that I can grind it out. I am beyond caring about my time and just clicking off the kilometres two at a time. As I run more towards the front of the field, I pass a few female pros and it starts to get tougher to reel people in. The evil side of me wishes that it hadn’t clouded over so a few more people would explode for me to pass. At 34K I have the need to visit the gents. It gets fairly serious and I have to duck behind a bush in front of a senior citizens house. With my skinsuit around my ankles, I think that this sure would be tough to explain if an old lady came around the corner. Fortunately, no one busts me and I am back on the road fairly quickly. At 36K I do a little math and realise that I can go sub-10:05 if I hammer the rest of the race. My HK buddies know why this time might matter to me, and yes that was what I was thinking. No more aid station walking, I begin my final push to the finish. I am sure that many of you have been there for what follows. You push harder and harder, your hearing starts to go and you develop tunnel vision as you count the minutes down to the finish. You tell yourself that you can continue a few minutes more and you just hang on to the end. I imagine that they were calling my name at the finish but I have no audio playing in my brain. I have a visual image of the finish but that is all. It is a silent movie. I get through the line and it is finally over. I can’t speak and, as usual, the minders start to panic. Eventually, I manage to say, "am OK, catching my breath." Run 26.2 miles: 3:33 |  Run lap #2: |