To force fairness into the picture, there was 25 mph wind gusts, and evil marathon buddy Diana plotted a torturous route with 630 feet of elevation gain. I considered my route last weekend hilly with a whopping 206 ft elevation gain.
Mentally I quit somewhere around mile 8, maybe sooner. Physically I quit just before mile 15 where the rest of the way was into direct, abusive headwinds. I stopped, tweeted, texted, cried. Mr Happy Pace picked me up, drove me about a quarter mile, and I told him to drop me off, I’d run the rest of the way to our finishing meeting spot. The rest of the way wasn’t quite enough to meet 17 miles, so I ran around a small tenth of a mile block six times until my Garmin read 17 miles.
As much as I want to beat myself up over it, I’m moving on. Onward to week 11 of training. Daylight, and better things ahead.