After months of worrying, whining, hyperventilating, not training and almost debilitating self-doubt, I ran a half marathon last Sunday.

I’d like to think that it’s my most physically enduring undertaking ever but it wasn’t. That’s not to say it wasn’t hard, at one point I thought I was going to pass out.

It was pissing rain throughout the run, I’m talking a mini thunderstorm here… just my luck eh?

The feeling of being a part of over 3000 runners was exhilarating!

What impressed me most was how well behaved and orderly we were; unlike those 5K & 10K runs where people literally trample you to get to the start line, here we walked in an organized manner towards the start line till there was enough room to run.

So how did I do?

I did it in two hours and six seconds (my chip time, my gun time was 2:07) and came in 2087^th, meaning I beat 1263 people. I could have done better but I’m so damn proud of myself, I could hardly care.

I’m oddly reminded of something my father told me a long time ago on a hot sunny African morning.

He said me he feared mediocrity for me. He said I had a natural ability to be good at everything I tried “You have to understand that it’s never enough. Do it best; can you imagine the greatness you’d accomplish by working hard and applying yourself? You’d excel beyond your wildest imagination”,

I haven’t thought about that in years…because… well, it’s advice from my father, the same guy who didn’t come home one night because he “got lost and spent all night driving around the M25”

But that’s a story for another day.

I met someone (winner of last year’s race) who’ll help me train, I want to do a ten mile in October and walk the Seattle Marathon a month later then maybe run a marathon next year.

The London Marathon if I can get in.

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