And now we play the waiting game

Yesterday was great.

The previous night's sleep, during which I seemingly woke up every half hour? Not so much. The 6:45am wake up call? No way. Standing idly around before the race for an hour, in the chilly morning air, waiting to start? Ummmmm, no. Realizing about 20 minutes before the race that I really had to piss, except that there was no way I had enough time to wade through a sea of people to the toilets and back? Absolutely not.

But from the atmosphere in the crowd at the starting line, to the moment the starting gun went off, to a band proclaiming "Freak you, I won't do what you tell me!" on top of the Golden Sheaf, to running along the harbour in Rose Bay, to the excruciating climb up Heartbreak Hill, to the 4km descent to Bondi Beach, to sprinting through to the finish line... well, I actually had fun.*

*That fun continued post race,** as a group of us headed to a bar and downed several drinks that (a) went down FAR too easily and (b) went to my head FAR too quickly.

**The fun ceased shortly after the bar, as Yogi and I walked the three kilometers -- all uphill -- from Bondi Beach to Bondi Junction. With 75,000 racers (plus plenty more supporters and onlookers) descending upon the area, all traffic had come to a standstill, and all buses were absolutely packed. So we walked. And no, that was not fun.

Post-race walk aside, the exception to my fun during the race may have been my need to urinate. For throughout the entire 14 kilometers, I had to go, bad. Real bad. Did that help me run faster? It actually may have. The problem is, I don't know exactly what my time was. At least not quite yet. You see, I finished 1 hour and 24 minutes after the starting gun went off, but I didn't actually start until well after then. And the official results aren't released until tomorrow.

I'm pretty confident I did sub-70 minutes, which would quite please me. Did I reach 65? I think that's a stretch... but I think there's a chance. I'll find out for sure soon enough.