I woke at 6:15 to a crisp dawn. A number of injuries had surfaced during the night - locked joints, nosebleeds and "Delhi Belly."

We sought assurance that there were no more hills. Chris replied, "There are two, no three, maybe four depending on what you call a hill."

Almost immediately, we hit a hill! But then we cycled down a dusty lane that scythed through enormous tea plantations, a subtle aroma of tea filled the air. After a snaking, steep uphill, we hit a long downhill to Limuru, our start point six days previously.

I tried to crouch into an aerodynamic position for the downhills but my arms were so full of lactic acid that it was excruciating. The finish line was now almost in sight and those with speedos counted down the kilometers! With Chris leading in his 4x4, we tailed tire-to-tire into Nairobi's outskirts along the main road.

Our destination was a market place, and typically, this was at the top of a hill! One final toil to reach the top and after one hour and 41 minutes, we were there. Finished. Done. Dusted. YES! What a feeling. Everyone was embracing, shaking hands, slapping backs, such was the feeling of elation and kinship. We had suffered and conquered and no one could take the moment away from us. We looked like soldiers completing a tour of duty — grimy, tired, but beaming with self congratulation. Everyone was a hero!

I borrowed a line from a film to leave in the visitor's book - "What does not kill you makes you stronger." That, to me, summed up the essence of the challenge.