Originally written September 2023
This was probably the most physically and mentally challenging race I had ever done.
Although, to be fair, most people seem capable of running a marathon without turning it into a drama.
My races usually come with a plot twist. 
After about 7km, I knew I was in trouble.
Every time I pushed myself, it felt as though somebody had punched me in the gut, followed by stomach cramps. I felt so sick that I couldn’t take anything except water.
Graeme had actually told me before the race that I should pull out. I’d been having bouts of diverticulitis since Friday night, but because I felt better when I woke up that morning, I thought:
I’ll give it a try.
Seven kilometres later, I was thinking perhaps Graeme had a point.
So I made the sensible decision.
I would pull out.
There was only one problem.
I had absolutely no idea how to pull out of a marathon. 
Do you tell somebody?
Is there a special place you report to?
Do you hand over your bib?
Or do you simply wander off the course and disappear into Sydney?
While I was contemplating the administrative procedures involved in quitting a marathon, I noticed something.
When I walked, the pain eased.
And somehow that thought became:
Well…perhaps I can walk.
There were only about 35 kilometres left.
So I walked.
And walked.
And walked some more.
Eventually I reached the final 150 metres.
By then the crowd was cheering the finishers and calling our names, and naturally I decided that after walking practically the entire marathon, this was the perfect moment to save face.
So I ran.
Apparently it was very important to create the illusion, for approximately 150 metres, that I had been doing this all day.
I crossed the finish line…
…and ended up in the sick bay.
But I finished within the cutoff.
And I got the medal.
Looking back, I wouldn’t use this race as an example of “giving up is not an option.” Sometimes giving up — or rather, stopping — is exactly the sensible thing to do.
In fact, I had already decided to stop.
I simply couldn’t figure out the procedure.
What I remember most now isn’t that I conquered the marathon.
It’s that somehow, on a day when running wasn’t working, I found another way forward.
Very, very slowly.
Stories Along the Way 