Long Branch Half-Marathon

Each Spring, I enter a Half-Marathon, to gauge my fitness level at a long-distance race, and give me a training goal through the doldrums of winter. This year, I returned to one of my favorite courses, the Long Branch half-Marathon, held on May 1st.
Because of the weather, most of my training for this race is on the treadmill, and I did plenty of "pace work" at 7 minute miles, my goal for this race. I also did quite a bit of speedwork at 6 t0 6:30-minute paces for mile repeats, and a few 10-mile runs.
I felt mentally and physically ready, and the day came up sunny and warm, just the way I like. I felt fine warming up, and definitely felt capable of a 1:30 to 1:31 effort.
Prudently, I mixed in with a "pace leader" and group aiming for a 1:30 finish. Our first mile felt comfortably hard, and we passed the clock in 6:35, much faster than we planned.
We slowed to seven-minute pace at that point, and frankly, it felt like walking! Still, I stayed disciplined, traded leads with others, and remained at that pace.
At around the five-mile mark, a guy who looked at least my 52 years of age blazed by us. Feeling great, my competitiveness and stupidity then got the best of me.
I left my group behind and tried to stick with the older runner, figuring we were probably battling for first-place in our 50-59 age-group. He surged ahead of me about a mile later, and now I was on my own.
I managed seven-minute pace for the next few miles, but without the ease I felt amongst the group. Plus, the half-marathoners were beginning to mix with back-of-the packers of the accompanying Jersey Shore Marathon, which started 30 minutes earlier.
Instead of open road, now we were dodging between large groups of walkers and joggers, which seemed to destroy my mental concentration.
At around nine miles, my right hip and hamstring began to tighten up as well, and now it just became a case of survival, with the rapid early pace clearly taking a toll on my body. The group I left behind five miles back now passed me.
The last three miles were into a strong headwind, and no matter how I tried to mentally battle through, I couldn't muster up anything better than a limping 7:30 pace. At that moment,I couldn't run a second faster, and vowed not beat myself up over a lack of perceived effort.
It mercifully ended with me crossing the line in 1:33.07 (7:03 pace), fourth in my age-group (out of 241) and 91st overall in a field of close to 7000.
I shouldn't be bummed, and really am not. You can't fault yourself for going for it when you feel good, although I always tell others to just worry about your pace and not about anyone else. In my enthusiasm and hubris, I broke my own cardinal rule.
Oh, the older guy who passed me and tooik me off my game-plan? He's actually 60 and won his age-group in 1:29 and change. Tremendous, and I'll see you next year!