That is where the last of my charming veneer wore down. No longer was I the erudite blogger, the mildly amusing copywriter. Nay, at 47kms, I was having a Kardashian-ugly cry, wishing that I hadn’t entered such a stupid race.
It was the sickening realization that even though I trained, and followed the programs, I would not finish the race. Because no matter what they say, sometimes your best just isn’t fucking good enough.