But throwing up at the finish line and getting a t-shirt for my efforts made it all worth while. Although it was a pretty pathetic puking. Mostly water and stomach acid.

I ran a good race. I started and ended strong, which was my goal. The middle miles were a bit slow, my legs were burning pretty good, unused to the build up of lactic acid. I didn’t train at all race for the race. I’ve only been on a dozen light runs since I’ve been in London. I didn’t have a watch on and thought I was running quite slow, especially when people started passing me in the middle miles. But a 33:30 would have been a 41:37 pace for a 10 km run. Not blazing fast, but not slow either, especially considering the conditions (and my condition). I attribute my result to general fitness from all the walking and sheer determination.