Jump straight to mile 27 and you’ll see me barely moving, famished, painfully thirsty, and bending over to pick up a sand covered remnant of a Honey Waffle Stinger, which I can only assume a previous racer had the misfortune of dropping. Five miles to go. I’ve now been without adequate food and hydration for hours and my palate is not so sensitive as to pass on anything resembling food, so I eat it without shame. Even with debris now in my mouth it is the highlight of the previous hour and I can’t remember anything tasting so good. Ever. Continue Reading…