I started off at a steady 6:45s, wanting to negative split the race. Even though I had warmed up, I still knew that if I went out blazing, I would just crash, so I thought that 6:45 would give me enough room to speed up at the end.
At the start, one girl was up front and another girl was right with me. I let her get a few feet ahead, because I knew not to start out too hard. Within 4 miles, she had faded back and I kept my pace steady. I kept the lead girl within fighting distance- her blonde ponytail was always bouncing 500 feet up the road. I tried to always keep it in range, because until mile 6, I imagined I had a fighting chance at first.
Oh, and Ryan was simply gone from sight withint 1 mile. Amazing. He is just too darn fast!

I concentrated really hard on keeping my breathing steady and everything was going really well. I was decently happy with my pace, which I kept at a steady 6:40, with occasional miles in the 6:30s. It never felt like too much effort, and I felt like I had energy in the tank for the second half of the race. When the wind picked up, I tucked in behind a big dude and drafted- it was really helpful!

At the turn around, I was still feeling good. I had only had a few sips of water/gatorade at this point, but every time I drank, I felt like I was gasping for air, so I wasn't taking in a lot of fluids. If I made a mistake, that was it. Because at mile 8, my legs just sort of crapped out on me. They turned to cramp-filled lead rods and just kept threatening to buckle under me. It took SO much mental energy to not stop and stretch, and as each subsequent mile ticked by, the effort level increased exponentially.

Up until that point in the race, I was still 2nd place, and #1 was just up the road. People kept cheering to me 'Get her! Good job girl!'. I grimaced at them (my painful attempt at a smile!). At around mile 9, the chanting crowd changed- they said 'Great job girlSSS looking good!' Crap!! Someone caught me! I didn't look behind, but knew that about 10 feet back, 3rd place girl was catching up. This kept the fire lit under my feet, and with each quarter mile, I kept trying to will my legs into compliance, and tick over some faster miles, but the pace kept betraying my effort.

It took girl #3 until the final mile to pass me, and honestly, I was relieved. My legs were just too cramped up to care. It was strange, too, because it wasn't the typical pain I'm used to with a hard effort- this was teetering on show-stopping crampage, that prevented me from going any faster.

I guess my run fitness isn't where I thought it was. I also don't think I race very well in the cold, but I sure felt like I could run a faster half-marathon, considering this is only 2 min faster than my best Half-Ironman run. Oh well!