The rookie mistakes we all make
It's OK to mess up your training, as long as you learn from it.
On Thanksgiving morning, I went out for a long run in the Blue Hills, south of Boston. I love running in the Blue Hills. It’s where I do most of my longer adventures. Since we live at sea level, it’s tough to get much vertical climbing, but the Blue Hills offer plenty of rugged, up-and-down terrain. I don’t always feel good when I finish a long run in the Blue Hills, but I always feel like I accomplished something meaningful when the run is over.
So, I was feeling pretty proud of myself after completing a 12+mile jaunt over two and a half hours with a little under 2,000 feet of climbing. I would have gone a bit longer, but a heavy rain set in during the final hour and I was drenched to the bone. When I got home, I noticed on Instagram that my old friend Avery Collins posted his final training run before a 110K in North Carolina.
I mean, just look at that. That’s more than twice the mileage and climb at five times the speed in the freaking San Juan mountains. Keep in mind that Avery lives in Silverton, Colorado so he was starting his day over 9,000 feet above sea level. Dude is a serious beast.
Avery and I live in different worlds, literally when you compare Boston to Silverton, and in our running. Still, I’ve gone on a few runs with him and it never felt like we were doing something fundamentally different. We both put one foot in front of the other, even if his strides were a lot more powerful and he could have left me in the dust whenever he wanted.
One of the things I often hear from other runners who are just starting out is they don’t run like me. It’s true. They don’t run like me, I don’t run like them, and none of us run like Eliud Kipchoge. That’s what makes running so unique. However you run, no one else on the planet runs quite like you.
Of course, that’s not what they mean. When beginning runners say they don’t run like me, what they’re really saying is they don’t run as much, or as far, or as fast. I get the sense they don’t deem themselves worthy of claiming the same activity as their own. That’s where they’re wrong.
Usually at this point in the conversation, I point out there are literally thousands, if not millions, of runners who are faster, stronger, and fitter that I could ever hope to be. It would be crazy to think I could ever run a 2-hour marathon like Kipchoge, or hang with Courtney Dauwalter in an ultra. That doesn’t stop me from claiming to be a runner, just like them.
What all runners share -- be they novices, experts, or people like me who are somewhere in between -- is a learning curve. You can flatten that curve through repetition, training and practice. Yet, no matter how much you run, it will never be a straight line.
There was an article on Outside.com a few months ago that listed the common mistakes made by rookie runners. It’s a good piece with lots of solid advice. What stood out to me, however, is how easy it is to make the same mistakes over and over again, no matter how much experience you have.
As I prepared to resume training after a hellacious 41-mile day on the Appalachian Trail in September, I thought about these lessons throughout the fall. My goal was to not fall into the traps. Landmines were everywhere.
Too much, too soon
The easiest way to get hurt running is by running too much. You don’t go to the gym on the first day and try to bench press the weight stack, so why would you want to put too many miles on your body when it isn’t ready for the pounding?
This holds true even at more advanced training stages. Training is about stress and recovery and the adaptions your body makes during the process. It’s a tremendously fine line between too much and too little.
Runners, and by runners I mean me, often err on the wrong side of the equation for all kinds of reasons that make sense in the moment. We go 10 miles when the plan calls for eight because that lovely round number looks better in the training log. Even worse, we get stuck on what the watch is telling us, mistaking small achievements for real progress.
To be sure, there are times when it’s important to push yourself in training, especially when you’re just starting out. Showing up everyday is a skill that needs to be practiced so that it becomes routine. More often than not, however, the time to push your limits is, “Not right now.” Understanding that balance comes with experience and patience, but that doesn’t make it easier to resist the siren song of more, more, more.
When I resumed training after a longer-than-expected recovery break, I found my body breaking down more easily than I would have imagined. For a while, my left ankle felt like it was ready to give out every time I took a step when I got out of bed. That went away, thankfully, but there’s been some persistent knee tweakage (medical term) that’s made running a bit uncomfortable at times.
I’ve tried to be smart by taking more rest days than usual and backing off some of the tougher workouts I had planned. In my head, I can visualize the progression I want to make but my body is telling me to chill. I’m trying to be patient. Lord, am I trying.
Speed kills
The bastard cousin of too much, too soon is going out way too fast. We’ve all been there, feeling good and ready to blast. After a solid first mile, the second and third become slower and slower until the run turns into a slog. There are all kinds of strategies and tactics to build speed, but running as fast as you can for as long as you can with no warm up is not one of them.
At a base level this is about pacing, and just about every runner I have ever met struggles with pace. (Shoutout to my friend Henry Abbott of True Hoop fame who actually does most of his runs at a super relaxed pace. Henry, it should be noted, is faster than me when it counts.)
Over the years I’ve trained (read: forced) myself to start slow and allow my body time to loosen up. I’ve made progress, but I still push harder than I should in the beginning because that’s when I’m feeling at my best. Like a lot of things, I’m working on it.
The other part of the speed equation is running hard when it’s not your day to run hard. This is an even tougher habit to break. There’s a tendency to want to prove fitness every time we step out the door. Going a little bit hard all the time inevitably leads to frustrating plateaus, and that can lead to injuries and burnout.
The key to running faster is just that: running faster. But in small doses at the right times with lots of slower running to build an aerobic base that enables us to run faster when the time is right. One of my goals for the fall was to slow down and focus on form rather than speed. I really meant it this time.
By mid November I was feeling pretty good and decided it was time to mix in some intervals at a local track. I love running intervals and I love running fast, but I’ve stayed away from the track the last few years because there’s something about the curve of the oval that lends itself to those cursed knee tweaks.
But hey, I was feeling good and thought I’d give it a try. The intervals were solid. I did 4 x 400 with equal amounts of rest, and I was kicking it in the 5:40 range. I’m not going to lie, it felt really good. The tweakage arrived on schedule the very next day.
Lesson learned: From now on I’m going to do my fast running in a straight line on trails or the grass field near my house.
Repetitive runs
One of the first questions I ask new runners who have fallen into a rut is about their route. More often than not, they’re running the same loop, day after day. If they’re not running in the same physical space, they’re running the same distance at the same speed.
Even though I run on trails where no two runs are ever really the same, it’s easy to fall into the same pattern. Because I am a creature of habit, I have a pretty good idea of where I’m going to run each and every day of the week. That consistency helped build a training base, and at first, familiarity brings comfort. If left unchecked, however, it can bring contempt. This run, again?
The other day, while I was hobbling through an extremely slow 5-miler, I decided to do some exploring on an adjacent trail to my usual route. I took a couple of rights, including a spur that went nowhere but proved to be a delightful little detour, and turned around when I figured I had done enough.
I got a little bit lost, but I had confidence to explore a little bit more the next time. A new world is opening up and I’m stoked to see what it has to offer. What could have felt like a brutal setback turned into a fun little adventure. Throughout the fall I’ve tried to mix things up and keep that spirit of discovery whenever my runs started to feel rote. I actually feel good about this one. Good job by me.
Listen to your body
This brings us back to the original point. No one runs like you and only you know how you’re feeling. I know of no other activity that is as brutally honest as running, not that I always like what it has to say.
When I have a bad run, a little voice in my head tells me all kinds of horrible things. You’re too slow, too out of shape, not fit enough, not good enough. That voice is my ego talking, and it’s telling me lies. When I let that go of that voice and focus my attention on what my body is really saying, there’s an awful lot of truth to digest.
For example, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that the AT straight up kicked my ass. At my age -- 46 -- recovery takes a little bit longer than it has before. I’ve had small gains and little setbacks, moments of transcendence and a few runs I’d rather forget, but I’m trying to take it all in stride.
I’m proud of my efforts this fall. With nothing on the line and nothing specific to train for, I’ve had to take my little victories where I can find them, and try to learn from every outing. Most of all, I stopped thinking of training as a specific destination and began embracing it as a journey. The cool thing is, that journey is all mine.
What about you? Where are you in your training, and what are the pitfalls you encounter along the way? Drop a note in the comments. Let’s build this community.
Former 5k & occasional 10-miler trying to get back a decade later in much worse shape at age 49. Looking forward to your posts giving me that push.
After running XC in high school (I wasn't good), I was so burnt out on it that I swore I'd never run again - only to pick it back up in my mid 20's and I've been going strong ever since. Running has been an important part of my physical and mental well-being for years. There's a distinct difference in how I feel on the days I run as opposed to the days I don't. This has never been more apparent than during the pandemic. In a time when nothing seems normal, running is one of the only normal things I have. With nothing to train for, I've been pushing myself harder than I have in years. I think this is partly to see if I still "have it." I qualified for Boston and ran it in 2011. I'm now 42 and while I wouldn't say I'm in the best shape I've ever been in, I'm definitely in really good shape. My split times are the fastest they've been in at least 5 years. I also think that part of why I've run so much during the last several months is to prove that I'm healthy. Side note - I had shoulder surgery in June and had to take 6 weeks off from running. I knew it was going to be a challenge to not run for that long, but I needed to get my shoulder taken care of. When I was finally able to get back out there, it was like a re-birth. I've always known running is a huge part of who I am and I should probably be more appreciative of the fact that I can keep putting in miles. I'll also say that I enjoy finding new ways to challenge myself, even without a race on the horizon. Every day and every run is a new way to measure yourself physically and mentally - even on the days when my legs are heavy or I don't feel like rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn. As John L. Parker wrote in one of all-time favorite books, Once a Runner, running truly is 'The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials.' I'm grateful to have it in my life.