Breaking 1:30 In The Half Marathon: Jersey City Half 2025 Recap
I've been chasing this goal since 2021...
In 2021, after a year of running more consistently during the pandemic, I challenged myself to run my first half marathon in Central Park. No crowds, no water stations — just me and my Central Park route, running an outer loop and a few inner loops. Races weren’t happening at the time, but that didn’t stop me from chasing this goal. The time wasn’t official — just what my Nike Running app recorded: 1:53. I’ll never forget collapsing onto a bench afterward, breathless, sipping an electrolyte drink, completely stunned by what had just happened. As I stared at that number, one thought popped into my head: “One day, I will run a sub-1:30 half marathon.”
And that’s where it all began.
This goal — breaking 1 hr and 30 minutes in the half marathon — has lived in the back of my mind for years. Last year, I felt myself getting closer with a 1:35 finish, and this year, I knew I had a real shot. At the United NYC Half, I was on pace… until the final few miles. The inclines and hills in the second half took their toll, and I died near the 20K mark.
Race Day Morning:
4:30 AM. I wake up to the sound of my iPhone alarm going off. Race day mornings never get old. I have the whole routine down-pat — I wake up immediately following the alarm because of the adrenaline and excitement of what the day holds. I read my devotional, sip on coconut water, make breakfast, and start getting into my race gear. Time always seems to move faster on these mornings, and I’ve learned the hard way not to waste a single minute.
Our friends Phil and Michelle come over, and we drive over to the Newport Centre Mall, where Bobby drops us off. I check my watch: 6:20 AM.
We’re right on schedule. First stop: porta potties because it’s best to beat the lines before they get crazy closer to start time. After that, Phil and I take off our heat sheets and start warming up on the roads near the corrals. We run a few laps around, getting in our warm-up and a few strides. Accessing the start line feels easier than the chaos I’m used to with NYRR races. Maybe it has to do with the fact that this is my new home course now, and I don’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn just to commute. Or maybe it’s a smaller, local race than what I’m used to — no endless corrals labeled A through L to navigate through. Whatever it is, it’s a welcome change.
The Start:
6:40 AM.
Phil and I make our way over to corral 3. The start line is just ahead — it’s so close, I can feel it. The nerves start to kick in. I’m bouncing on my toes, shaking out the jitters, and getting my legs ready. I turn to Finn, Andrew, and Phil — my friends in the same corral, and give them some last-minute words of support and hype. Then, I tap on the SUB 1:32 United NYC Half Spotify playlist — I never got around to changing the name, mainly because of the memories of what happened at that race. The world around me starts to quiet down. I close my eyes as KB’s “10K” floods my ears. It’s like my surroundings fade for a brief moment — the noise, the crowd, and chaos — it’s silent. This song always centers me. It’s my go-to for locking in at the start line.
6:50 AM.
I hear the National Anthem faintly in the background, but my focus is elsewhere — on the song in my ears and the shoes on my feet. I glance down at my Saucony Endorphin Elite 2s. I’ve been obsessed with these lately. They carried me through my PR at the United NYC Half just last month, and I still can’t get over how smooth and springy that super foam feels.
I catch myself drifting. Time to refocus. I whisper a quick prayer in my mind and recite the verse written on my hand: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” A reminder I need in this moment. Remind me of this, I say to myself.
7:00 AM.
The starting gun goes off. I break into a light jog and hit my watch right as I cross the start line. Here we go.
The start of races are usually crowded, and the adrenaline is the highest here. Runners are weaving, pushing through, and space is pretty limited. I instinctively move to the side, away from the center pack. Learned that lesson the hard way after being nearly trampled a few too many times.
I spot Phil just ahead — he’s looking smooth and composed. I keep him within my line of sight, as we make our way through the first mile. I glance at my watch: 7:03 average pace. I let out a sigh of relief. Finding the right pace early on is usually the most challenging for me, but this feels right. I’m going to be fine from here on out.
“Grace!” I hear someone shout. I look over to see Quentin on the sidewalk, camera in hand, snapping photos. Total surprise. I met him a couple of years ago at a HOKA event — he’s not only a great runner, but a seriously talented photographer. Check out more of his work here. Seeing him gave me an unexpected jolt of energy. Something clicked in me, and before I knew it, I was pushing the pace already.
Mile 2:
I feel really good right here. I remember how good it felt early on during last month’s United NYC Half, before taking a hard hit at mile 10. I remind myself the race has merely begun and it’s too early to gauge anything. I’m nearing mile 2 and my heart leaps with excitement — Bobby and Michelle (Phil’s girlfriend) will be in position around the corner after mile 2, exactly where we planned.
I turn the corner and as expected, there they are. I wave in excitement, hands in the air, and give them a quick smile before zooming past. The next stretch is packed with energy. The crowd is electric, and I’m soaking up all of it. I’m reminded of how much I feed off this kind of support during races, and I catch myself smiling.
Miles 3-5:
21:42. The first 5K complete. 6:59 average pace.
I shuffle through my playlist, awaiting a song that gives me a little boost. I glance over at the left side and realize this is the turnaround point. The elite runners — both half and the marathon — are already coming back, cruising past mile 4, and it inspires me to pick up the pace a little. I’m averaging 6:49 pace now, but I just mindlessly keep running, eyes glued to the runners flying by on the other side. I spot my friend Brian on the other side and yell out his name — he looks my way. He’s looking strong. Then I see Brian Rock, someone I’ve followed on Threads for a while and really admire his blog. I shout his name too. He looks startled but I keep waving at him, shortly realizing he probably has no idea who I am. Whoops! I keep waving anyway, laughing at myself a little. I turn the corner and move over to the left side, hoping to catch more of my friends coming through. I manage to spot Kevin Montalvo in a bright yellow Queens tank, before turning the corner again en route to mile 5.
Miles 6-9:
42:51. 10K complete. 6:54 average pace.
I look up from my watch. I’m taking this a little faster than I did at the United NYC Half last month. My mind battles between: dial it back or hold steady. And of course, my mind chooses the latter. You have the God of angel armies on your side… what do you have to fear?
I spot Quentin on the course yet again — still in surprise that he managed to spot me before I even did — and simultaneously, snap a photo and look effortless while doing so. This time, I’m not as caught off guard and give him a thumbs up instead.
There’s a stretch of quiet miles here — full of uneven pavement and desolate streets. I glance around. Every now and then, I like to have other women nearby to check in on their form and breathing — it helps me realign with my own form and breathing. But this time, not a single woman in sight. I scanned the guys around me and locked in on two, deciding to stick with them for a couple miles. Then came the only hill on the course. I made my move, passed them, and kept going. Up ahead, I spotted Brian Rock in red. I was closing in — way closer than when I first saw him back at mile 4. I was about 10 feet behind him at this point. Part of me wanted to speed up to say hi, but I knew that wasn’t a smart move. I kept it nice and steady here. I’d reassess at mile 10.
1:04:15. 15K complete. 6:54 average pace.
I did a mental and physical check in that very moment. How are we doing, Grace? I calmed my breath, took my last gel and Salt Sticks, and felt a spark ignite. There was more left in the tank. I wasn’t finished yet. Let’s pick it up.
Mile 11-12:
The last 5K of a half marathon race always scares me a bit. It’s where I’ve seen myself falling off and feeling the pain. But today? Not yet. Not at mile 10. Or at 10.5. I kept telling myself: Just get to mile 11. Get to mile 11.
Right after passing the mile 11 marker… I felt it.
The pain hit my legs, heavy and tired. No, no, no... not now. I looked down at the words written on my hand: “For when I am weak, then I am strong.” The black line looked bolder than ever. The words repeated over and over in my head. And just like that, a flicker of strength lit up inside me.
Suddenly, my Spotify cut out. No music. I kept pressing the play button but nothing was working. My eyes widened. I need the music right now.
That’s when I heard a voice beside me. Brandon Shamy. I looked over, surprised and genuinely relieved to see him, and gave him a high-five.
He glanced at his watch. “What are you going?”
“1:29,” I said between breaths.
1:25:13. 20K complete. 6:51 average pace.
Oh my…
No time to dwell on the pain in this moment. This was exactly the moment I started to lose steam last month, where I crossed the 20K marker at 1:27:03. I was 2 minutes ahead today.
Because the music had cut out, I could actually hear Brandon talking. “I’m going this pace for the marathon,” he said casually. Right then and there, he stuck right by my side, encouraging me with every step.
I winced. “1 kilometer to go,” he said, “You can hold it under a mile.” I was starting to tense up. I really, really wanted to stop.
All of a sudden… “Grace!!”
Quentin, yet again, with the camera. How did he manage to be everywhere and still look effortless behind the lens?! Yes, that was the exact thought going through my mind as he snapped the shots.
My smile quickly twisted into a wince. I glanced down at my watch. 1:26. About 3 more minutes to go. This wasn’t over.
I glanced over at Brandon. “The split for the marathon and half is coming up. You don’t have to wait for me,” I told him, but he refused to leave my side. I was feeling queasy, thinking I was slowing him down. That’s when I saw the split up ahead — marathoners to the left, half marathoners to the right. I tapped his arm, “You got this.” “You got it!” He called back as he peeled off to the right. Just ahead, I could see it now. The yellow finish line up ahead. Close… but also not close.
There was only 2 people up ahead and one woman in yellow next to me. “We can do this,” I told her and gestured for her to follow me as I picked it up. She simply nodded. I could tell she was giving it everything too. I glanced down at my watch. 1:29:30.
Every bone in my body jolted. Go, go, go, go, GO. My body started to push the pace. My legs kicked into another gear. I was flying now — pace dropped to 5:36. I was sprinting with everything I had in me. There was 30 seconds left on that clock and I wasn’t going to let it slip away. I was closing in on the finish line. 1:29:45…
Right on cue, my body lurched. The gag was back. The same gag I experience at the end of races when I leave everything out there. The Gatorade I drank at the last water station was coming up, I could taste it in my mouth. I gagged, seconds within the finish. The finish line. One last final push over the line, and the Gatorade exploded from my mouth. I crumbled in exhaustion, spitting out the Gatorade. Medical rushed over with the wheelchair and I explained (per usual): “No, no — this is normal,” I insisted, “I just need to walk it off. I sprinted way too hard at the end.” They weren’t fully convinced because one of them monitored me and kept watching nearby to make sure I was okay.
I looked down at my watch and suddenly I couldn’t see the screen because there were tears blurring in my eyes. 1:29:50. NO WAY.
I fumbled to open the tracking app but couldn’t find my result. The anticipation was killing me. So was it sub-1:30? I kept walking over to the medals, collected the finish bag, and thanked the volunteers for their support and help.
I turned the corner and saw Phil. We exchanged emotional hugs. “PR!” He told me, beaming. I knew he had it in him. Then Skylar walked over — another huge PR. Then Andrew, who PRed by 12 minutes. I was in awe of my friends. All of us. We had done it. Something special had just happened out there, and we all had our own special experiences to share. I couldn’t wait to hear it all.
My heart was so full and overjoyed as we all reunited after the finish. The course was a blast, the weather couldn’t have been any more perfect, the crowd energy was electric, and the support — just unreal. If you’ve never signed up for a race weekend with your favorite people, highly recommend it. Celebrate, cheer each other on, and soak it all in. It’s truly something special.
A weekend I’ll never forget. Huge thanks to Jersey City for putting on such an incredible event. This one will always hold a special place in my heart — as it holds my new half marathon PR. Until next time!
amazing!!! congratulations <3
You absolutely CRUSHED. Reading the play by play just goes to show how many emotions you go through in 90 minutes. Well done!