Why Is Easy Running So Hard?
The idea behind this week’s post isn’t a new one, it didn’t come to me in a flash of inspiration as I was stood in the shower after a long day, or whilst I was deep in thought romantically running along the trails of the South Downs watching the sunrise over a hill… No, it was from several conversations from my (new to running) daughter, a few RunVerity members, plus all the previous conversations I’ve had far, far too many times over the years,.
The original plan for this week’s post (yes, I do plan them!) was to share the many reasons of why “Easy Running” is so important and how incorporating it into your training week, especially if you’re training for a marathon, will enable you to be a faster, stronger runner.
I was chatting to a colleague last week about RunVerity and how it has evolved over the years- it was never meant to be a running club in the traditional sense, it was always about teaching people, ordinary people (like me), how to run. The irony isn’t lost on me however, that I’ve spent a huge proportion of my time as a running coach advising people to slow down. Yes, I know, it does seem counter intuitive really, my whole ethos of RunVerity is to get people up off the couch, to get them moving and then once they start moving, I start yelling at them to “SLOW DOWN!”
Over the many years that I’ve been writing blogs about running, there seems to be a disproportionate amount of them on why a runner should run easy. As I’ve looked back over these blogs, I’ve noticed that some of the techniques I’ve used to get the message across have been quite dastardly; like a well-hidden vegetables in piles of chips, “How do Elite Athletes Train?”, or I’ve tried to reframe the message - “How to be a Faster Runner” still clear but less shouty. And when that didn’t work, just direct and to the point “10 Reasons why Running Slower won’t make you a Slower Runner”. At times I’ve likened myself to Charlie Brown’s teacher at the front of the class “bla bla bla”, all my “students” hear is a muffled, annoying voice.
And you might be thinking why do I bother, that I should probably give up, I’m “preaching to the unpreachable”… but I don’t think there’s a week that goes by when at least one of my club members doesn’t apologise to me for “being so slow”. I always reply, “please don’t apologise, you have nothing to be sorry for” thinking to myself “Why do runners think that slowing down or being slow is such a bad thing?” It’s as though they have to apologise for taking up space that is reserved only for fast, proper runners and this is where I start to get annoyed.
So onto last week where the “sorries” came in their droves, thick and fast, via text, email and in person, so many more than was usual. Runners were apologising about why their run was slow, or an apology about being too slow or not as fast as they used to be. Saying sorry that they didn’t come to group because they didn’t want to hold anyone up, or be at the back. Add all of these apologies to my daughter’s response when I advised we take the pace down a notch on our longer weekend run together; she told me, as so many other runners tell me, that she can’t run slowly, that it’s too painful for her. I rolled my eyes and comforted myself in the knowledge that Paula Radcliffe’s daughter also thinks she knows best…
And then the final comment of the week that tipped me right over the edge to typing (yet another incarnation of) this blog came via one of the strongest, most determined runners I know. She told me that she’d been asked if she was a “proper runner” or a “plodder”. Really? WTAF? This Runner (capital R) works full time, has a young family and is training for her second marathon this year. She sets her alarm for 4.30am on a weekend so she can fit in her long training runs around her family and has encountered setbacks that she’s batted away like swotting flies; and someone asked her if she was a proper runner?! I’m still seething!
Do people ask questions like that because they believe there is a magical, sentient “sorting hat” that sorts runners into “running houses” based on their best fit, i.e. their pace? And subsequently, because we all secretly want to be in the best house, to be part of the cool gang and to be part of the proper running club.
This was a bit of a eureaka moment for me, do runners not run easy because of the fear of being seen as a slow runner? Is this the reason that runners find it so hard to slow down their runs and run “at an easy effort” because there is a real fear that running slowly will not only make you a “slow runner?” but you’ll be seen as a “plodder” and not a “proper runner”? Or is it because we have constantly or continue to be shouted at to run faster, keep up, or my old favourite taunt, “if you stopped talking you could run faster”?
Another reason I know that people find it hard to run easy is when they’re running with others who set a faster pace it can make it hard to stick to an easy run. I know this very well. Here’s how I learnt my lesson…
I’d agreed to run with a group of runners (reality check, I was thrilled and flattered to be asked to run with a group of runners who I knew were faster than me). I didn’t think about the consequences, I just said yes. There I was with my swingy ponytail and dark shades running out of our town with these “cool runners”. It was very much the early days of RunVerity, and I noticed a RunVerity beginner looking at us as we ran past, we must have cut quite a picture, I thought proudly.
The plan was to run 13 miles, a long training run for a spring marathon. The others settled into their easy pace, chatting away to each other with ease, shit! this was not my easy pace, but there was no way I was going to lose face, I remembered the beginner looking at us… I pushed on.
Four miles in, red faced, sweating, stumbling over my words, I couldn’t answer in more than one syllable and I knew I’d bitten off more than I could chew. And of course, I did what any self-respecting coach would do, I said, “excuse me fellow runners, this pace is slightly faster than my easy pace, to get the best out of this training run, I’m going to have to drop my pace slightly, but you guys carry on, I know the route, I’ll keep you in sight and I’ll see you at the end.”
NO OF COURSE I DIDN’T. I doggedly hung on and said nothing, even more uncomfortable, hotter and more miserable until I had not choice but to fake an injury!
“Owwww!” I screamed, “oh no, my hamstring just twanged! I’m going to have to cut this run short, which is obviously devastating…” There was concern as the group stopped to make sure I was ok. My friend (younger & faster) said she’d run back with me, but I insisted that they all carry on. I couldn’t get out of the pack quick enough. I turned and headed up the long, 2 mile drag of the main road, to safety. My legs were made of concrete. I’d set off too fast, run a pace that wasn’t an easy pace for me so despite not actually being injured, it was still with a combination of a walk, and a bit of a shuffle, that I miserably made my way back home. I seriously contemplated knocking on my friends door to ask for a lift home, as I passed the end of her road; this wasn’t quite the image that I’d portrayed earlier. My swishy ponytail had lost it swagger.
So look, I do understand the urge and the need to push yourself to the limit, to feel as though there is improvement in each run. I too love the feeling of running hard, the endorphin high, even the feeling of nausea as I push myself to the finish line. I also get that when you come to running later in life having previously thought that you weren’t sporty, that you want to cram in as many pbs as possible, as you feel there’s only so much running time left. And I know that coming to running later in life brings added baggage of work and family commitments which can leave many people time poor, which adds even more pressure… every run must count!
BUT easy runs need to be added into a weekly training programme, if every run is run hard then there is more chance of incurring an injury and/or burn out, either before you get to the start line or worse on race day itself.
I was discussing this with a client of mine recently, as we dissected her Spring marathon, she felt she’d crashed and burned on marathon day, she said she’d hated the race and hadn’t expected to cross the finish line as broken as she was. I asked her if her longer weekend training runs were run “hard” and she admitted that they were. I said, but why, we’d talked about easy pace and how important it was on the lead up to marathon training, and she said, “I just didn’t believe you, but I know now!”
And maybe that’s it, maybe, runners have to cross the finish line battered and slightly broken to experience what it really feels like, only then do they get that lightbulb moment, oh shit this is what she meant! I’ve likened a first marathon to the first pancake that you make, it can often be a bit rubbish, but as long as you continue with the next one, you will be fine. Sometimes we all need to learn our lessons the hard way.