Mile 24 belongs to Ben from Google, thanks again for all the kind tweets of support. This is where it hit me. A few things actually. One that I am going to finish, no doubt about that. The next is that my legs and hips really, really, hurt. I don’t have any energy left and I am slowing dramatically. The last thing I realize is that I have been doing close to 10 minute miles and there is no way that I am going to finish under four hours. At this point I make a strategic decision. You have to remember that this is the first time I have ever, ever run this far and I have three to go. I have no frame of reference. Looking back now I think I probably could have kept running but I’m so spent and I know there is no way to break four hours - who dreamed up this whole four hours thing anyway? – so….I walk. I walk as I enter Central Park. I wouldn’t say it feels good. Nothing feels good. It just feels less bad. I figure I can walk at around a 13 minute mile so really I’m looking at adding only nine minutes more than normal. What’s the point in killing myself? Again, I have no frame of reference and now I know that I wouldn’t have killed myself but at the time your mind plays tricks on you. I remember going into the park and even though the crowds are amazing, thinking, ‘Ok, I’ve done this. Checked it off the list, no need to do this again. It’s not fun anymore.’ But what happens is the crowd look at you walking and tell you that you are doing a really great job. They cheer the people walking more than the people running, even though I keep grimacing to show them I was in pain not just being lazy. But they make you feel guilty. When they shout ‘James’ they are really saying, “James? What the fuck is this? Walking?” So I run a bit more.