Having watched this event from the confines and comfort of the roadside along Harbour Road, accompanied by my family, I frequently said to myself "One day I want to run this race."

It, in fact, became a lifetime goal – right there on my Bucket List (our lifetime to do list), along with: playing Cup Match (accomplished), going to a Bob Marley concert (accomplished), buying a decent fishing boat (unaccomplished) and owning my own home (accomplished).

Well, motivated by the successful completion of my first venture on the National Trust's walk, a real challenge, and my initial journey along the Middle to End ( 6:30 a.m. -10:40 a.m) , I thought, why not make this a real year of firsts and indulge my ego by trying on the annual Marathon Derby for size.

Following the Middle to End walk, which was accomplished relatively pain-free, thanks to some advice from my dentist –- yes Dr. Dickinson those diabetic socks really did do the trick and no Uncle C.L., I didn't take your advice and pee in my running shoes – I felt ready to finally take the plunge. Certainly, six days a week at the Athletic Club (usually 6:15 a.m. to 7:30 a.m.) since November should have been adequate preparation.

Signing up for the race led me to realise what a money spinner road racing can be as forty ($40) times all those runners surely is a nice sum. I was to soon learn that a nice souvenir bag containing a T-shirt and some other goodies came with the package, plus a beautifully inscribed medal awaited each finisher. I certainly planned to be in that party, even if I had to crawl across that finish line.

What a fool I was though – why wait until you're 50 and had four knee operations to attempt this 13 .1 mile trek. Surely, when you were 20 years younger and 12 inches (waist size that is) smaller, it might have been more pleasurable.

In the build-up to the race, I encouraged a couple of others at the The Athletic Club to sign up for the race. Bermuda's fastest 60 year-old walker, Sinclair Smith, was given a form, and another daily exerciser, Cammie Berkley, likewise, quickly consented to try her fortune. Perhaps next year we'll see Major Kenneth Dill and Brenton Roberts, two fitness role models, make their return.

Race Day was soon upon us and fortunately I enjoyed a half decent deep sleep the night prior as my snoring was up to par. Yes, I snore quite loudly – just ask the folks at the Southside cinema who watched Tyler Perry's movie the night it watched me. Unfortunately though, my son's dog decided that he wanted an early morning snack and woke me at 4:00 a.m. Once up, I decided to do some cooking preparation for my wife – surely if I prepared all the ingredients, she'd make me some of her, better than Dale Butler's fish cakes to enjoy after the race.

The boat ride to the West End was somewhat surreal. There I sat, in the lower deck of the fast ferry, somewhat in a daze as the aforementioned 4:00 a.m. early rise and shine was starting to kick in. I gazed around me – there was Mr. Running himself, Steve Burgess chatting with Belvin Smith, and that short gentleman who returns from overseas every year (name not known to me as I am not a running buff). The throng on this boat had to be at least five hundred strong.

Adorned in their running attire, there was a noticeable buzz in the air. Being a rookie and alone, I kept my mouth shut the whole way. Especially after my initial, but fruitless attempt to speak to a lady of a lighter hue, who was having none of it and gave me that all too familiar half smile ( we call it the monkey grin) that I interpreted as "I don't know you, so don't speak to me while I'm here with my real company." I wish I'd taken down her race number. Why some folks are still like this in 2010 is beyond me.

Anyway, on to the race. What a thrill it was to receive my foot tag and to have it placed on by a derby veteran Cal Steede, was in itself an honour.

Imagine being a rookie Cup Match player and having Lionel Thomas fix your bat rubber for you. Anyway, the pre-race butterflies started to hit and my immediate need was to avoid the line that was some 50 strong just to wee wee. Students, please skip this part, but the bushes were a more practical, if more primitive mode of handling (no pun intended) the situation.

My two walking buddies decided, like me, to start the race promptly. So off we went, some 40 minutes ahead of schedule. Anticipating about three hours, 15 minutes, for completion, I figured the early start should help me overcome the embarrassment of walking down Front Street at the same time as Sybil.

The race itself is quite simply, an awesome experience. Hundreds, perhaps, thousands, line the roadside and cheer you on. What a difference the crowd make. Along the way, young and old, black and white (there certainly were no signs of racism during the race), rich and poor, shout, encourage, inspire, motivate, and scream. Some had whistles, some clackkers and others, like my sister-in-law use their car horns. A symphony of sounds awaits the runners.

From past neighbours, to past lovers, former students, to former working colleagues, you see and hear them all; Thank You Bermuda. The crowd didn't seem to mind that I chose to walk the route, well most of it anyway. The male ego didn't permit me to walk in a few places, where my family sat on Harbour Road, along the corner of Crow Lane, certainly not along Front Street (with the multitudes there) and certainly not across the finish line.

Where else in the world, during a race, do you experience onlookers offering a Heineken, a cup of Gatorade, some water, or remarks, such as "I should get my dog to chase you and then I bet you'd run." Fortunately, examples such as the latter were very minimal. For the most part, the comments were uplifting and encouraging. My favourite came from a fellow church goer at Mount Zion AME "Remember", she quoted – "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

And so it was to be, as I mentioned, I chose to jog along Front Street just to savour the atmosphere as the real runners do, then once around the corner and out of sight, I came to an abrupt halt/walk and gasped for breath, until I reached KFC.

The only negative associated with this, my first run, was the fact that I had a stiff lower back for the first eight miles. I put it down to too much of Prime's Place's cod fish and potatoes and Miles Market's molly cake, or maybe my neighbour Sally's cheesecake (all of which are simply divine). Curiously though, as the crowds got thicker, the pain diminished.

The last time that I had heard any sporting sounds comparable to this was during the pre- match lap, while leading out those awesome blue and blue teams at the annual Cup Match classic.

This race was similar, but different. The 24th of May event is more up close and personal. Not better, not bigger, but certainly extremely unique, very fulfilling and extremely rewarding. Whatever my time, it was secondary to finishing. It surely didn't seem to matter to the spectators. You were wonderful Bermuda, you are magical and I speak for all runners when I tell you that you truly are the Wind Beneath Our Wings.

Whether my arthritic knees can cope with a second bout of this venture-only time will tell, but to all of you who have this event on your Bucket List – remember this favourite quote: 'Life is a short walk, so little time, so much to do.'