I was mostly on track, and then everything changed. I’ve lost my motivation to run, and I’m in a near constant state of questioning what’s important in life. Every day I walk a few miles with my wife, and I find I enjoy that a lot more than a run on my own.
This week, I did try to run a half marathon. It was fun, the weather was amazing. My heart was not in it, and my legs did not cooperate.
I had to walk a couple miles towards the end.
I wish I had something inspirational to say. I’m just not sure what comes next.
February was the best month of running I’ve had in ten years. I could feel all the miles I’d banked accruing interest. Yes, at over 40 miles per week, I was constantly exhausted. Yes, getting up on Tuesdays and Thursdays before dawn, and then finishing a full workout before dawn, was daunting. But it was worth it for the fitness gains I started to see in every run. I looked forward to my upcoming races with not only confidence, but hunger.
Late in February I got a bit thrown off schedule; I took a three day trip to visit my alma mater in Ithaca, NY. Ithaca is in middle-of-nowhere New York, and there are no direct flights there, or even to the nearby mega metropolis of Syracuse, from Seattle. So I spent an entire day traveling, one day braving the frigid Ithaca winter, and than another day traveling back to Seattle. I got back onto schedule as soon as I returned. Today, I chuckle when I recollect feeling miffed about small disruptions in my life such as a three day trip.
Now, in a world brought to the brink by COVID-19, I daydream about the alternate timeline where my training plan proceeded as scheduled. In total:
Both half-marathons I had planned to run in the Spring were cancelled (Disney held out for a while but I think it was pretty clear a couple weeks ago that they would cancel).
My running club has cancelled all runs through March 2020. I’ll be shocked if they pick up again 10 days from now.
Even small group runs of 2-3 people feel awkward at best and dangerous at worst.
I’ve been working from home since March 4th.
The circumstances above might be interesting if they were not so ubiquitous. It might make sense to complain about any of these things if our entire way of life wasn’t being irrevocably changed as I write this.
But running is my outlet, so I write about running.
For about two weeks after COVID-19 started getting out of control in Washington state, I felt like I was just reeling from daily news and couldn’t bring myself to get out there and run. I hadn’t really adjusted to working from home and ended each day feeling sore just from sitting around too much.
This week I started forcing a shift. I have run the last 4 days, and I’m glad to be catching the perfect Spring weather. I’ve always thought of running as a social sport: I run to make friends, I run to hang out with people outside of work. Now, with social distancing as our civic duty and gyms closed to boot, I find myself thankful that I have an athletic outlet which I can pursue on my own.
The Hansons Half Marathon Method plan defines tempo runs as race-pace runs at a shorter distance than the race. They are touted as a proving ground for learning control, pacing, and pace maintenance. I don’t get what makes them so mentally/physically difficult for me. A five mile run at your half-marathon race pace doesn’t seem like it should be that hard. I’ve been focusing on the purported benefits recently to try to get more mentally into it:
The benefits of tempo work include:
// helps you to internalize half-marathon goal pace
// teaches you to control and maintain pace
// chance to experiment with nutrition, hydration, gear
It makes sense that practicing longer and longer runs at race pace is a good way to get used to what you will put yourself through on race Day. That’s why it’s pretty disappointing that I’ve been struggling with this part of the program more than any other. Even the slog of running six days a week has been easier to achieve than hitting my goal tempo paces; I don’t think I’ve hit my goal pace since very early in the program on the first 3-mile tempo run.
It’s been an awful and history rainy season in the Seattle area. This Thursday, I woke up at 6AM hoping I’d knock my 5-mile tempo run out early. It was cold, dark, and raining unusually hard. I just couldn’t bring myself to leave the house, and I committed to running just after work. But running after work wasn’t great either. It was still raining, and the park I chose to run at was muddy and soft. I was tired and hungry; I felt out of gas 1 mile into the run, and basically gave up 2 miles into the workout. I cashed out early and moped through the rest of the day.
On a more positive note, I made up for it the next day, slipping a full 5-mile tempo run into what was supposed to be 6 easy miles. Yet the pace was still at least 20-30 seconds slower than my goal.
So what’s going on here?
The obvious culprit is that I set a bad goal — If I had chosen an appropriate goal, I’d be able to hit the paces consistently, right? I don’t want to believe this one even though rationally I know it’s the most likely explanation. There’s still a part of me that reflects on my running life and sees that I always run faster on race day than my training paces would indicate. But that feels like a copy out.
I’ve had a history of dogging practice in a variety of aspects of my life. From faking slide trombone practice logs as a fourth grader to cramming for exams at the last minute through college and grad school, self-discipline with practice rituals has never been my strong suit.
Maybe I haven’t fully adjusted to cumulative fatigue?
Maybe I don’t rest, hydrate, or eat well enough to support my increased running load?
My relationship with race starts has evolved over the years.
My early races (high school) were nerve wracking. I’d spend the day or two before a race trying to psych myself up by listening to my favoriteracingsongs on repeat. The team would have pre-race pasta dinners. Our coach would encourage us to spend time meditating before the race. We did affirmations. It was all a bit much and left me anxious and stressed by the time I got to the starting line.
In college and early adulthood, I learned to garner a sense of calm before races, but the uh… physical symptoms of anxiety stayed with me. As tranquil as I feel mentally, my digestive system always seems to be a wreck the day of a race. More often than not, I’m frantically running to the start from my third or fourth restroom visit.
More recently, I seem to better at getting my mind and body relaxed before a race. I think part of that is in giving up on having any stakes at all attached to my performance. Maybe there’s also a maturity factor.
Throughout this evolution, I’ve found it interesting that any pre-race anxiety always drains away once I’m actually on the line. There’s a nice zen focus that sets in once I enter the coral. I transition from being anxious about racing to being eager to start running. Once the starter sets us off, I’m usually pretty relaxed and happy right away. At the recent Bridle Trails Winter Running Festival I got a cool snapshot of what this actually looks like. I am not used to being at the lead of a race at the start, so this short clip my friend Paul took was a treat (caveat: this was actually the second wave of the start).
On reflection, this start was just about as happy and fun as it looks. Contrary to a lot of my races earlier in life, I didn’t feel any nerves in this one, and I hope to recapture that vibe in future races even if the stakes are higher.
Altogether I lost 12 days due to illness, travel, and travel-based-exacerbation of said illness. Technically it was 10 training days as two of those were planned “off days”. I went out for 4 miles today and even though I still occasionally have minor coughing fits I think I’m ready to come back. But how does one come back after missing a huge chunk of a training schedule?
Taking a week and a half off from running definitely necessitates serious schedule modification; however, that modification depends on the point in the plan at which the missed block occurs. If it occurs before the strength portion of the training program, then the runner won’t have to make any major adjustments to race goals…
Upon your return to running, you should run easy for the same number of days that you missed. If you lost a week, then run easy for a week. After that, go back to the last training week that you were able to complete and repeat it, then run the week that was originally missed, and from there pick the schedule back up. So, with a week missed, it takes 3 weeks to get back on track.
This calculation doesn’t make sense for real racing scenarios. I mean, yes, ideally I would complete the whole plan. And it makes sense that I wouldn’t just pick up where I left off; rather, I should back-track a bit and work back to where I stopped. But this presupposes that I have a flexible race date, that I can just push my half marathon off by a few weeks while I safely catch up to where I should be. Races don’t work that way, especially those with hefty pre-registration fees.
When I started down this path, I got really lucky that I had exactly 18 weeks between when I was planning and the race in question. I literally laid it out in a grid:
It doesn’t feel like I have 3 weeks to play with here. I also wonder if the Hanson’s advice in this case is focused more on the case of injury and how to prevent re-injury. It’s not quite the same as an illness (I’m not likely to relapse on a sinus infection while still being on antibiotics… right?). On the other hand, picking up where I should be in the schedule as if I didn’t miss 10 training days doesn’t feel right either.
So, here’s my compromise: I’ll pick up where I left off in the schedule, but I’ll drop back the intensity, essentially scaling back my race goal for 2-3 weeks of recovery. Depending on how that goes, I may readjust my race goal again. Practically, this means that this week I’m still on week 7 of the Hanson’s plan. At the same time, I’ll adjust my paces for runs as if I’m targeting a half marathon that’s 2 or 3 minutes slower.
What do you think? Is this the right approach? Or am I missing another strategy that would be safer given that I’m coming off of being ill?
For a variety of reasons, I’m still not running. Yesterday I was diagnosed with a sinus infection — the kind that’s necessarily making you actively sick all the time, but is just sort of lingering there and then emerging every 6 weeks like a swarm of nasal cicadas.
I’ve had problems with sinus infections for… most of my life. It’s not awful, I just get them more frequently than I want and they last longer than I can stand. Nothing abnormal has turned up when I get my sinuses scanned by ENT wizards. So I don’t know what to do about it.
At this point, I’ve probably lost a lot of fitness. It’s depressing, and I’ll need to think carefully about how to resync into my training. One thing I know for sure — I’m making the NeilMed Nasal Rinse a very regular part of my routine now (daily, at least). The price of getting sick for many times a year is just not worth it.
I’ve never completed a training plan without getting sick or injured, and now I know that the approach to my April half marathon will be no exception. The beginning of this week has been head-cold–tastic, but I optimistically hope to be back on my feet on Friday. Nasal and sinus infections are becoming a frustratingly regular occurrence in my life, so I’ve spent some time reflecting on on this bout to try and understand if there is something I should have done more or less of.
On Saturday, I ran the Bridle Trails Winter Running Festival with the awesome Eastside Runners Club. I was on a 3 person relay team (~10 miles each). It was the muddiest, sloppiest course I have run on in my life. The run itself felt good and warm — I wore a t-shirt and shorts and felt completely comfortable. Waiting for my teammates to run the final 20 miles was frigid (even tho I was bundled up), and standing in the cold may have played a role in coming down with a cold.
On Sunday, I did a 4 mile recovery run to round out my 14 miles for the weekend. Maybe that would have been a good day to skip?
On Monday, the Puget Sound area got one of its rare snow storms followed by uncharacteristically cold weather. Not wanting to miss a day, I did a 4 mile easy run in the snow. It took about 50% longer than normal due to the conditions. But it was so fun and I wouldn’t give it up easily. Could a run in the snow have sealed my fate?
Monday I also spent about 1.5 hours shoveling show (divided between the morning and the evening). Shoveling immediately after the run in my wet running clothes may not have been a great idea (though I felt warm the whole time). Monday night I noticed that my throat had started to hurt. I started to get that feeling I always get right before I get sick — a cranial fogginess coupled with a tingling sense of impending doom in my face. Before going to sleep I used a nasal rinse.
Tuesday morning I woke up with a sore throat and did another nasal rinse, but by this point I was down for the count. I stayed home from work and slept most of the day. I used Alka-Seltzer Cold to ease the symptoms so that I could sleep, and also had two more nasal rinses later that day.
Wednesday I woke up early for a flight to Boston (going to the MIT Mystery Hunt) and as I type this I am on an airplane surrounding by people sniffling and coughing. Granted, I am one of the sick people on this plane. Maybe I am my own worst enemy,
I find it impossible to attribute a particular cause to getting sick. Maybe I was out in the cold too much? Maybe I passed someone who was sick two weeks ago and it just took a while to surface? That said, I think I’ve learned something about how to handle it when I do get sick. Assuming I follow through on this upswing and feel better by tomorrow, this will be one of the shortest head colds I have had in years. I don’t really believe in Cold Eeze and the like anymore, but I do believe that nasal rinses played a role in keeping my cold relatively tame.
A couple months ago, I saw an ENT specialist about my sinus issues. Their evaluation revealed nothing abnormal, and he sent me away with the advice that I should do a sinus rinse every single day. At the time I thought the suggestion was ludicrous and committed to trying to hit one per week. I picked up a new NeilMed sinus rinse (it turns out that replacing these occasionally is important) and renewed my efforts. After this relatively short cold I’m willing to let correlation be the better part of valor and start doing the rinses more regularly.
As soon as I started getting cold symptoms on Monday, I also checked in with my copy of Hansons Half Marathon Method to review what they say about taking time off due to illness or injury. Unsurprisingly, they seem to err on the side minimizing time off, and emphasize how much fitness will be lost for N days off from running. Their advice seems more geared towards injury situations (along the lines of “it’s OK for you to hurt a little bit”), but I will try to get back to it on Thursday or Friday of this week.
… and that’s it, that’s where they got me. Over the years and decades, my training has centered around what’s easy, what’s convenient, and what those around me are doing. For example:
I’m busy during the week? Better load up on that Sunday run so that I hit my mileage goals.
Running short on time? I’ll guess I’ll just run as fast as I can muster and jump directly into my car immediately afterwards to get home ASAP.
My friends are running 3 minutes per mile slower than I normally run, or doing an insane hill workout? Well, running is a social activity, so that’s what I’m doing too!
Hansons has encouraged me to take a step back and consider what I need to do in order to get what I want… And that means 6 running days a week right from the start. Note, however, that this is strategic mileage, so you have to do it at a pace and schedule that makes running that much possible. They prescribe pretty specific mileage goals for each week. The plan I am on starts at ~33 mi/week and tops out at 50 mi/week*. I remember thinking 4 weeks ago that it would be impossible for me to hit the mileage goal in even the first week, let alone the goals for week eighteen. So far I’m pleasantly surprised. Their program “works to bring you up the mileage ladder one rung at a time.” *Note here that I am using the “Advanced” plan which has more mileage than the “Beginner” or “Just Finish It” plans, but they all run 6 days/week.
I can see how this program would not be for everyone – many people I know are just plain bored when they run and would loathe doing it so often. I have always loved running, but at the same time I’m sick of feeling like running is so hard. Paradoxically, it seems that running more may be the key to feeling each run less. Plus, it’s an investment that pays off when you race — mileage is straw that you put into building an elaborate thatch hut. Months later, the race is when you burn that hut to the ground.
What is your mileage philosophy? How do you decide how much is too much and how much is not enough?
We all come to the starting line for different reasons. Faced with running a half marathon in April, I’ve been doing some thinking about how my running philosophy has changed since high school.
It would be naive to think that the indomitable machine that was the high school cross-country and track training apparatus would be reproducible for me as an adult. You can’t call the runners back to the start once the race has been over for twenty-two years.
In college, I all but gave up on running during school. Sure, I started at UMass with delusions that I would join the cross-country team, but those dreams died before I was through with orientation. I was active during the summer but it was without a clear purpose aside from reconnecting with runners from home.
I almost recaught my stride during grad school – I raced in the Upstate NY XC Series with the High Noon Athletic Club at Cornell. But athletic life and personal well-being was always out of balance with the demands of graduate work. I acquiesced to the idea that productive races were a thing of the past for me, and adopted a “running for life” mentality – running was something I did to extend my life with no intrinsic local value temporally.
Since 2010, I’ve lived in the Puget Sound area of Washington. I’m still trying to find the balance of real life with my desire to make something of my running. Over the last ten years, I’ve been seduced into believing in training plans/styles that advertise better results with less running (e.g., Run Less, Run Faster). These plans promise that “readers can get stronger, faster, and better by training less” (quote via Amazon summary). It sounds great: I’m busy! I can’t run 6-7 days a week anymore like I could in… gosh 1995. I want a plan that fits my packed schedule.
These plans probably work well for some people — I’m guessing those who are into serious cross training so they don’t squander their “off” days. For me, running three days a week inevitably becomes two days a week when I am extra-busy… And two days a week rounds down to zero. I never felt like I was in good running shape under this type of plan. Every run was a chore, and I did not accrue benefits over the long term. At times, I did put down “longer” mileage weeks but it was often in the vein of 25 miles a week on 3-4 runs. This kind of plan just doesn’t help me feel like a runner.
In the book Atomic Habits, James Clear advocates for changing your behavior by changing your identity. He says:
Anyone can convince themselves to visit the gym or eat healthy once or twice, but if you don’t shift the belief behind the behavior, then it is hard to stick with long-term changes. Improvements are only temporary until they become part of who you are… The goal is not to run a marathon, the goal is to become a marathon runner.
James Clear, Atomic Habits
To me, the “Run Less, Run Faster” mentality is not commensurate with “becoming” a runner. We are what we repeatedly do, not what we repeatedly do as little as possible to eke out some minimal benefit.
So I was intrigued when I picked up Hansons Half Marathon Method by Keith and Kevin Hanson. Their method is built on the idea of “cumulative fatigue” — which is fatigue built up over weeks and months of training. They break down their method into five components:
I picked up a copy of their book and I’m now a few weeks into their 18-week plan. I’m making a commitment to try this plan out until my half in April. I’ll be breaking down what I’ve learned from this plan over a few different posts.