Driving in heavy rain before sunrise and seeing the TPMS light come on the dashboard on my way to Danville, Virginia, for my fifth Danville Half Marathon on October 17, 2026, I became anxious and stopped by a gas station in a remote area. I requested help with inflating tires on a sketchy machine from a middle-aged woman pumping gas, to which she replied, “I do not help strangers,” and instead grabbed an elderly man who did not know either but, inspecting my tires, assured me I would be fine reaching my destination. I wasted 15 minutes here and arrived at the packet pickup later than I planned, having to park farther back in the public parking deck for the first time.

I am often amused by the confidence with which so many people try to predict things that will happen millions of years from now when they can rarely ever predict tomorrow’s weather accurately. The rain contrary to the forecast continued through the entire race, just like a few years ago at the same event, but, slippery muddy portions and my socks and shoes becoming soaking wet from puddles of water aside, I felt this condition ideal for a fast performance. With a recent strong 10K result, when asked about my time goal, I ambitiously yet insecurely stated in the low 1:50s, which I had not managed in years. Clocking a 7:54 first mile and how light my body felt, I had high hopes from the start. I kept a consistent mile pace in the lower 8:00s and did not feel any fatigue for most of the run, and I firmly believed I was on the verge of setting a new personal best in this distance (1:47:35.7 from 2018), until the last couple of miles when I saw my pace slow down to the mid-8:00s/mile. I fought hard to move faster, but I could not push any more than I was already. Crossing the finish timing mat officially in 1:49:03, similar to my last 10K race, I was uncertain whether I was more elated or disappointed that I came so close to a PR that seemed out of reach for many years. My second-fastest and fourth sub-1:50 half marathon out of 63 and not having run anywhere near this speed in the past 7 years, how could I not be content and grateful?

This year felt more competitive with many more faster runners than all the previous years. One lady who has seen me multiple times here commented, “You are getting really fast,” and I answered, “I just lost a lot of weight. I am not doing anything different.” (I ran a 2:01:51.24 in 2021, 2:07:34.66 in 2023, 1:59:55.2 in 2024, 1:56:59.2 in 2025, and 1:49:03 in 2026.) I had to stay post-race for a while, shivering as my body cooled down, due to a confusion with regard to my age group award. At this event, all awards are given based on gun time rather than chip time, and, after the team originally printed out the top three without my name, I checked with the race timer. I pointed out on his spreadsheet that showed I finished before the participant listed third, by mere one second, which he verified and edited. This runner must have sprinted right behind me at the very end because I do not recall seeing anyone finishing close to me. Once the results were uploaded online, I saw that I placed fourth in chip time but third in gun time, which I presume caused the initial error. Wanting to be honest, I checked with the race director once more on my way out, who confirmed they indeed give awards based on gun time, but I still felt odd accepting the bronze medal. The past two weeks have been unbearably stressful, and I do not know what I would do if I did not have running to offset work. I really enjoy praying and meditating as I run and all the inspirational people I meet in races. I hope to continue to build on this momentum of fast performances and see how far I can take this.