Ok, you can let our your breath now*revised with no math*

Ok, the race is over, and I just know you're on the edge of your seats waiting for the report.

Here's the dillio:
After the USA 10 miler, Jon sent me a sorta-cryptic email congratulating me on my finish (that part wasn't cryptic) and saying, "And you made the marathon qualifying standard time!"

Really? I looked at those last year before and basically thought, "HA! Sure I can run that!" (again, difficult to convey sarcastic tone via a keyboard. Did you catch it?) The part I'm leaving out is that you actually have to WIN and qualify in order to be an invited runner, so of course being completely, thoroughly outclassed (in my running, duh) by Heidy Lozano, it was a moot point.

But still... I was pretty proud of meeting the standard, so I made that my super-secret goal for the half-marathon. The time: 1:33:20. The plan: go out fast for the first mile, drop down, and wait. Third loop, hammer time. Great pants, no?

Well, the first mile worked out according to the plan. Right at 6:51, so now I can slow down, right? See, my concern for this race was increased by one-third with the interminable construction on Bagby-- no flat-ish first loop this year, replaced by the an extra run down the dips on Allen Parkway. Sigh. I knew he hills would tire me out, and I was reminiscing for the flat expanses of Webster, Texas.

Jake wanted a running partner that would keep him from giving it too much speed, and I enjoy company, so I thought it would work out. Do you know how fast Jake is? I think his marathon PR dropped below 3 hours twice last year, so that should have been my first clue. I figured he could spot a 7-minute mile from across the street, so we'd be golden.

Here's the reality:
1- 6:51
2-6:54 (yikes)
3-7:03 (ok, getting closer)
4 -7:01
5- 7:03
6-6:52
7-7:04
9 & 10 -13:38 -at 1:09:17 for 10 miles-pretty happy at this point
11-6:57
12 -6:37
13.1-7:27-Finish time of 1:30:17

So I never hit the 7:05 pace that I had worked myself into a frenzy over. Every single mile was faster. Every. Single. Mile. Previous best- 1:34:06.

Roger commented, "So did you break 1:30?", and then looking at my watch, "Oh, no, you missed it."

Um no, Roger, I was aiming for 133, so I'm pretty happy, "gosh darnit".

What I did leave out earlier is that I was completely freaking out. As in "omigodomigodomigoswhadamidoingiam sogoingtocrashholycrap," which was running thru my head most of the first two loops.

There were a few ladies that I thought I should catch on that third lap, also. I passed one at mile 11, and the other two at the last turnaround. But they sped up! CRAP! This means I have to actually RACE! In a race! When I only wanted to PR! Jeez!

But it was fine. I did not die, and I nearly caught up to snarky Schroeder at the end. You know, kind of like when I play pool, I don't really even have to even beat some people. It's enough for me that they think I might beat them.