Why I decided to hire a coach

To reach my potential, I must leave my comfort zone.

I first met Avery Collins in the summer of 2017 in Steamboat Springs, Col. where he was living at the time. I was working on a story about endurance athletes and cannabis, and Avery was a natural subject in that he was one of the first publicly outspoken advocates. 

The whole cannabis/CBD movement is a fascinating development that I may get into greater detail later on, but I want to linger for a moment on the opening scene described in the piece. As part of the reporting process, I asked Avery to take me on a run, which he did, up to a spot known as The Devil’s Causeway. 

Crossing the Causeway is something of a local rite of passage. It’s also a bit harrowing, especially for someone like me who gets woozy at tall heights. So, that left me a choice. I could push forward into the unknown, or I could turn around and go back home. Slowly, awkwardly, and somewhat hilariously, I made it to the other side. 

Beyond the Causeway was a trail that ran along the ridgeline. To our left was nothing but wide open space as far as the eyes could see, and to our right, wild horses roamed free in a valley. The clouds seemed close enough to almost touch. On the way back to the trailhead, we literally ran into a giant moose, a situation Avery deftly handled. 

That’s all in the piece. What I left out is that when I got back to my hotel, I called my parents and cried because I knew the experience had changed me in some profound way that I couldn’t fully articulate. That night, as I tossed and turned in my bed, my dreams carried me back to that moment on the Causeway. Each time I arrived at that critical juncture when I needed to decide whether to cross, I jerked myself awake. 

It finally dawned on me around 3 in the morning that I had already chosen a path. I just needed the courage to follow it.

Over the past three years, I’ve honored that vision by teaching myself how to trail run. I became comfortable with weather, gear, climbing, descending, trail maps, route finding, nutrition, pacing, and dozens of other things I never considered, or frankly imagined I was capable of learning. 

Whenever I encountered an issue, I looked for solutions in books and online articles. Many times a fellow trail runner offered advice that resonated and opened some new path of exploration. Periodically, there was Avery dispensing some zenny wisdom gleaned from Lord knows where, maybe Madagascar or the Dolomites. 

I took all those bits and blobs of information, mixed them with my own experiences, and began developing a practice of running. I’m proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish on my own. I took a hobby, which then became a lifestyle, and used that training to create a way of existing as a human on this planet with its own ethics and aesthetic.  

At the same time, I’ve known for the past year that I’ve taken this self-guided approach  just about as far as it can go if I want to progress to the next level. In my case, that’s transitioning from a trail running enthusiast to an ultrarunner. There’s so much more to learn, and I’m eager to find out what lies beyond my level of expertise. That’s why I hired Avery to be my coach. 

The first thing Avery said when we talked was, “You’re gonna hate me for the next 4-6 weeks.” 

I knew instantly what he meant. We’re going to start by addressing the thing that plagues all runners at all levels no matter how much experience they have. I need to learn how to run, not just slower, but easier. In practice that means keeping my heart rate from zooming into the red and orange zones. 

Don’t get me wrong. Compared to my road running days, I’ve learned a great deal about pacing myself. I’ve done this through trial and error, which allowed me to develop a feel for running. Honestly, I think that’s a pretty good way to go in the grand scheme of things. What I don’t know is how to take that knowledge and use it to reach my potential. That’s where Avery comes into the picture. 

I’ve been dreading this for a while because, after all this time, I like how I run. I have my loops dialed in to the point where I can pretty much gauge exactly what my splits are going to be without looking at my watch. I can tell my wife with great certainty and precision how much I’m going to run, and when I’m going to be home. 

There is great comfort in my routine. It helped me through the worst days of the pandemic and provided much-needed structure and stability. If I’m being totally honest, I’m nervous about surrendering the complete control I have over my running. At least in the beginning, this will be a far greater challenge mentally than physically. I don’t think Avery was lying when he said I’d be frustrated and angry in the early stages. 

Still, I’m going into this with an open mind, fully cognizant that there are many things I don’t know. Bringing Avery into the equation demands letting go of old systems and rituals while embracing new ideas. He’s already on me to give up my beloved Akashas and phase into a lighter shoe. That’s something I knew I needed to happen, but every time I thought about it, I became overwhelmed with all the options and choices. 

In addition to the running stuff, Avery’s program involves a holistic approach to building strength through dynamic exercises and yoga. I’ve adopted many of these practices over the years, but there are some cracks in the foundation. Left unattended for too long, they’ll cause me to break down. (See my current hip issue, caused I believe by a structural imbalance.) 

Now is the time to address these things and prepare to go further. My go-it-alone approach carried me a long way, far past my initial hopes and expectations, to yet another inflection point. A metaphorical Devil’s Causeway beckons, asking which way I want to go. Given our experiences together, I think Avery is the right person to help me get there. I’m excited, as well as comforted, to have all of you alongside me as I venture into the unknown.