It's Wednesday night, and my legs are starting to feel a bit better again. I was at various stages of pain at different points throughout the race, but the worst was coming down the steep hill into Kinlochleven, which was about 76 miles in to the race. That was agony, and my quads suffered with every step.
I, like everyone else, put my body through a hell of a lot. I struggled to eat anything without feeling sick, so ate little more than rice pudding and jelly babies, supplemented by Lucozade Sport gels. I ate 8 rice puddings in total, I believe. If I never see another one it won't be too long.
And then there were the hallucinations in the last section. I can only assume these happened because I was so tired. It was fascinating, wondering who or what I would see next. I saw my friend Brent, who I was convinced was sitting on a rock at the side of the route. I saw numerous dogs, all friendly. I saw various other animals. It certainly helped pass the time.
But time is a great healer. By next week, I can almost guarantee, I will have forgotten all the pain and will only remember the positive aspects of the race. I will have convinced myself that I enjoyed it. I will have started to think about next year, and be wondering how I can reduce my time. I will be questioning why I didn't run down the hill to Kinlochleven a bit faster, completely ignoring the fact that my legs felt as though they were unable to move another step. I'll even be thinking about running an autumn marathon.