Last-minute instructions shout above the music across the PA but I just hear the music and the chatter and laughs of the crowd around me.
Suddenly the mass of people in front starts to move forward: first it's a slow walk and the pace gradually quickens to a jog. It will be some time before I'm running at normal speed.
Starting near the back means I have to swerve and sidestep around slower runners and walkers. It's tricky going around the kerbs and traffic islands of Devonport.
I'm soon running in a pack of similar speed and, as we climb the first hill before Narrow Neck beach, the chatter quietens to the sound of heavy breathing and the pad of hundreds of runners sounding like the heavy drops of a summer shower.
Bleary-eyed parents have been dragged roadside by their eager young to watch the Sunday warriors battling it out on the suburban streets. Young hands reach out and I high-five a line of fans, feeling like I've just finished an Olympic marathon. But this is only the 5km mark.
At the first drink station I make the mistake of trying to drink and run and cover my face in Powerade. I grab another cup and stop to drink.
I'm working my way past older joggers, walkers striding to music only they can hear and younger, brightly coloured runners who should have trained a bit harder. There's not so many costumes - Elvis was collecting for Prostate Cancer and I pass a 100kg prop forward fairy near Smales Farm.
As the bridge comes into view I hear a faint rumble in the distance which turns out to be huge Japanese style drums which give a lift to all the runners around me.
The going gets easier on the other side and the clock is showing 1hr 54m 06s as I cross the line but it feels like 20 minutes since the start.
• Alex Robertson is the Herald's deputy picture editor.