Approximately every five km we would grab an assigned bottle that had a pre-mixed carbohydrate drink of our choosing — mine was simply lemonade flavoured as “black cherry.” When I came upon my second beverage I nearly slowed to a stop looking for it only to realize it was missing, and I tried not panicking as I drank the Gatorade available on course until my next drink. I spent the next few kilometres thinking how annoyed I was that it wasn’t there, but it is a fairly regular occurrence so I was aware of the possibility. When things don’t go perfectly you have to be able to forget about the past, which is a familiar concept for me. Besides this bottle mishap, I was both relaxed and practically unconscious between bottle stations before returning to my senses while approaching a new one.

The first split I paid attention to was the halfway point. I knew I was on pace and my confidence grew because I felt great; even the uncertainty of the final 10 km didn’t feel so intimidating anymore. Our group caught athletes who slowed from the leading pack, but I was oblivious to my overall place. Approaching 30 km, the pack of runners suddenly split apart through a disruptive bottle station; another runner, who I now know as Daniel Mesfun, and I broke away. Earlier in the race he cut me off and I stumbled, nearly tripping, wondering “What is this guy’s problem?” I assumed he was competing in the half marathon going concurrently. It felt like a reasonable thought since he didn’t have an elite athlete bib nor was fuelling at the initial bottle stations, but now seemed an absurd judgment as he pushed the pace ahead of me.