Picked the race pack up on Friday afternoon, massage and a chat with the pacers Saturday morning and a relaxing Saturday afternoon at the movies. Didn't sleep well Saturday night, and breakfast Sunday morning was difficult to get down. But I was feeling really good, confident even.
It was a cold morning, but not too bad. Got to Preston Park about an hour before gun time and went for the first of three last minute drain offs (perhaps I'm a little nervous...). Got into the pen early and watched for the purple ballooned pacers arriving. By the time they did the pen was really crowded and I struggled to get close. I'd got them in sight though, so that's okay.
As we start moving I realise drain off number three is required. And I mistimed it, coming out of the urinal I could just see the pacers and they'd started running already, I was about three minutes behind them. No worries, plan B is a good plan, I know my pacing, it's all good.
Over the line, start the watch and I'm running a marathon!
First two miles were way too quick, but I got it back to sensible, by mile six (first gel) I'm in control, bang on the pace and feeling good. The wind is a bit shit and the temperature feels like it's dropping, but I'm okay. Still feeling strong and in control.
Mile ten and it's time for gel number two. I've been hydrating at each water station, they're run really well, almost no slowing down needed, but there's actually very little in the way of water making it to my mouth by the time the cup gets there. Not too much of a problem though, there's a water station nearly every mile and a half, and little and often is better anyway.
As we turn and start heading back to town I'm a little disappointed that the lack of headwind hasn't made the going easier by as much as I'd hoped. But I'm still on the pace and feeling good. My toes are cramping up a little, but some "in shoe" stretches are keeping it from getting worse.
I can see the half way mark and it gives me a nice boost, still feeling good, on the pace, running nice and easily, outstanding.
Then I feel it. Almost immediately after going under the halfway arch that familiar twinge in the side of my right knee. I convince myself it's all in my head, but slow down a touch anyway, just in case. Less than a mile later I stumble on I-don't-know-what and jar my leg. The shooting pain in my knee is most certainly not psychological! I back right off the pace and concentrate on light precise footfalls. But it doesn't help.
Mile fifteen and I'm proper hobbling now, barely able to maintain anything that looks remotely like a run and the pain just keeps increasing. I've got "pain is temporary, glory lasts forever" on a loop in my head, but I'm pretty sure I'm done.
Mile nineteen and I just couldn't go on, every step was agony. I bailed. Hobbled back to the hotel (which, thankfully was only a 20 minute limp from where I was) and spent a long time in a very hot bath.
Yesterday was a difficult day to get through, struggling to bear weight on the knee, at the same time second guessing the choice to quit, could I have gone on? Much improved today though, I was clearly asking more of it than it was ready to give, so I'm reasonably sure it was the right call.
Rest, more physio and gently building the strength up and it should be fine.