A quick check in to say I ran a 3:41 (ish... My Garmin reset itself at mile 18, but I was pretty close to the gun time). Clearly, this is not what I was hoping for. But unlike my claims last night, I'm actually not mad and embarrassed. Disappointed, sure, but mostly surprised. My training, pacing, nutrition, and hydration were all good. But for whatever reason, I got to mile six and felt like I was running on fumes. That is, I assure you, a terrifying feeling with 20 miles to go. I stayed on pace through 13.1, but knew much before that it wasn't a 3:20 day for me. I actually tried to drop out at 14.5 and save my legs for another day because I was so toasted, but the cop I stopped to talk to was the least helpful human alive and was unable to tell me where I might find the nearest med tent with someone to drive me to the finish. "I guess, keep running and you'll find one."
Luckily nothing was medically wrong with me, and I was able to take his advice. Unluckily, I never did find a med tent. So I slogged it out for all 26.2, with likely the most impressive positive splits the world has ever known.
I thought I'd be much more bummed out about a finish fully 21 minutes slower than anticipated, but I also don't know what I would have done differently, and that takes a bit of responsibility and ensuing guilt off my shoulders, fairly or not. The marathon is a fickle thing, and while I didn't necessarily believe it before today, sometimes you just don't have a good day. If 1 marathon in 15 don't go my way, I still have pretty good odds.
And now I'm drinking a beer in my bathing suit by the pool in the Hamptons. My life is not so bad.