16th km - We happen upon a couple of women singing a military marching song as loud as they can muster. They repeat the same line over and over. Maybe distance runners learn to crave repetition? Not being real distance runners it's driving us insane within a minute and we speed up just to escape.

17th km - The blues brothers pass us going the other way. I make a mental note to drink more fluids.

18ish km - I hit a bit of a low point - a lot of runners are coming back going the other way and they are a long way ahead of us. I take some Tylenol (did I mention that my shoes are worn out and not offering great protection from the incessant pounding?) and almost choke myself trying to wash it down while running uphill. I make loud Orca noises as I try to catch my breath, which I have inadvertently been holding while trying to swallow the medication. We spot some babes going the other direction - they seem alarmed by my whale impersonation.

21 km - Half way point, lots of cheering people and music. I start to feel a bit better. We're passing people regularly now. According to Flip's watch we are on pace to finish at 4:57, a few minutes under the five hour cutoff. I'd been hoping for a little more of a safety margin.

25 km - Kilometres are blurring by and we continue to pass people but we are still distinctly in the land of the old and the fat. For the benefit of some passing runners I loudly explain to Flip that I will hang back and run with him rather than go faster. Flip gives me the finger. I decide to give it a rest before he cranks it up and leaves me behind.

32 km - I push into new distance territory for the first time. I'm feeling good. I still can't drink out of a cup and run at the same time but I'm really enjoying the freedom to throw the little cups all over the street! I kick empty cups at Flip's feet in the hopes of tripping him.

34 km - Oh my God there's someone handing out little cups of beer! The aroma wafts over to me as I approach and suddenly there's nothing in the world I want more. Things hang in the balance - in spite of my lack of preparation the race is going pretty well at this point and I feel good. I'm on pace to keep it under 5 hours, but only just. Do I dare throw in a wild card and have the beer? The tray of beer is waved invitingly as I come up to it. At the last instant fear wins the day and I keep going without alcoholic nourishment. I can't decide if I'm pleased or disappointed with myself.

We pass a house that was blasting out chariots of fire when we first passed it near the start of the race. It's still blasting out chariots of fire; coincidentally the race marshals stationed there seem to have wandered off and placed themselves at the furthest distance possible while still keeping their post in view.

40 km - So close but it still continues. I'm not feeling all that bad but somehow they're still the longest little kilometres of my life. How can those damn race marshals be so freaking cheerful?

41+ The final kilometer. It's frantic - although it's a slow moving kind of frantic. We're pushing the pace up and going hard with the hope that the end is close. Final stretch and Flip and I erupt into a race to decide who gets the first shower back at the hotel. An old man and a middle-aged woman tragically box in Flip and I race to victory with an inglorious time of 4:52:22. I feel fine but apparently don't look it - I'm approached by a race staffer in the finish area who inquires with some concern if I'm all right.