I had very moderate expectations for the half, even before the incident involving the broken toe.
Most importantly, I had to finish. I had a secondary time goal in mind -- getting proof of time for the Disney Princess half -- but that was truly secondary. I simply had to finish.
After the incident with the toe, my goals became even simpler: Finish the race, in the maximum time, without having to take a DNF because I couldn't walk or run anymore.
As I've said many a time, I do not consider myself a runner. I have no shame in doing the Galloway run-walk-run method, and I think because of that, I simply do not see myself as someone who runs. I run, sure, but I'm not a runner -- I walk with that, and I'm pretty sure that I still could not run a race from start to finish. And I'm likewise OK with that, since my timings with the walk breaks are far better than anything I ever got with trying to run straight through.
But something happened during the half that shocked me.
First, that I not only came within spitting distance of getting that proof of time, but that I blew through my training run paces. And that I was below the max time with loads of room to spare. DNF was not even in question.
Hell, now I certainly consider myself a runner. A crazy runner, definitely, but a runner for sure. Who else would go through the issues involved in covering 13.1 miles on a displaced toe fracture?
Then, after the shock and awe was over, I started looking at the official results.
I'm a numbers person. So while my times were amazing for me (I still am not fast -- but for me, I was fast), I also wanted to see how I looked compared to other runners.
I knew going in that if I could be in the 5th percentile for age and gender, I'd be thrilled. I wouldn't be last, by a long shot, and for a first half, on a day that was having unpredictable weather, that would be good enough to get me started. I wouldn't be an outlier.
Somewhat more selfishly and cattily, I didn't want to be horribly slower than the small handful of people I knew who were running. I figured I'd be slower than they were, for sure, since they were actual proper runners and all that. But I didn't want to be miserably slower.
But back to the post-race analytics.
First, the percentiles, since I am a geek and a dork.
Overall, I nailed 15th percentile, among all runners. Totally not an outlier. Not fast, but not an outlier.
Where things get awesome were with age/gender division, and with gender overall. 18th percentile for age/gender, and 19th for gender overall.
Blown. Away.
Sure, not a huge improvement from my target, but improvement is improvement. I'll take any improvement that I can, considering that the odds are pretty good that most of those people were running on broken bones.
Second, looking at the other people.
And this is where I was shocked.
One didn't finish.
The next, a medical provider I see whose running advice I'd trusted, since she is a "real" runner, was in my division ... and finished at a slower time than I did, and with a slower pace than I kept. (Although who knows. Maybe she was running on a broken toe, too. We all have our histories.)
And then another individual, who I knew had been running for years, way before I even started -- and whose running expertise I had admired from afar. It turns out that I was far outpacing her -- and kept that outpacing.
The numbers said it. Maybe I was just having a good day, and they were having a bad day. But I wasn't last, and I wasn't slowest. And even with my unconventional method, and the broken toe, I held my own.
I guess I am a real runner now. Or if nothing else, at least I'm not a poser like I worried I would be perceived.
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