How had I become “that guy”, an example of “what not to do” in this race?  Lying in an indiscernible pile on the ground, mile 65, 10:00 pm or so, at the psychedelic Alice and Wonderland -themed Red House Aid Station, I listened as an intermittent stream of runners entered, refueled, and then continued on their way.  The sting of being passed had faded over the past 6 hours, after being reduced to a jog-walk-stop-poop rotation for the past 20 miles, until I could go no more. I had fallen down the rabbit hole.Read more