running

So…I’ve skipped a few days. If I can’t start and finish a blog post in a single sitting, it ends up dragging on forever, because I lose my initial inspiration and line of thinking, and then it becomes such a slog to have to revisit the same topic over and over again. So I think the trick is to just quickly wrap up whatever is currently on my mind and submit in order to crank out posts on-schedule. There is also the element where I don’t want to say things that are incorrect or could be misconstrued, despite my low readership - people can find anything on the internet, and it seems better to be careful than hastily publish, which does make me a bit post-shy. Anyways, onto today’s (more like this week’s) topic.

Running has truly been the bane of my existence. I’ve been thinking about exercise and training a lot recently, especially as a person who doesn’t identify as athletic. Thinking back to my childhood, I’m sure there was a reinforcing feedback loop where I was so slow at running and it felt so difficult that I became quickly discouraged from doing more. It’s kind of sad that people who run >12-minute-miles feel like they aren’t “runners” (at least, I can speak from experience) and thus end up avoiding running at all costs, whereas those who can run <8-minute-miles from the get-go are encouraged and continue to participate in running activities, reinforcing that perception thus making them even faster. Perhaps others have been able to approach this with a healthier mindset and this is just a me problem (I mean, I’d be so happy if that were the case), but it really feels like whether you are a “runner” or not (insert runner with any other -er) is completely independent of whether you should run. It was very frustrating in gym class that one of the tests was being able to run a <12-minute mile - I understand the sentiment, but it would’ve been much better to just have a target x-minutes of training than to make people feel so bad for being slow. Basically, if running hadn’t been such a shameful activity for me, I’d probably be a much faster runner by now. Categorization can be useful, such as - the track team has a 6-minute-mile cutoff, or this training group runs at a 6 to 8-minute-mile pace, so you can objectively conclude that you are currently slower than the pace of this group or team; I’m not suggesting we all need to delude ourselves into thinking we are or can be elite. But making the judgement that you are too slow to do this activity is the most harmful mindset, yet it’s really hard to get out of when everyone runs faster than you, when playing on any team sport that requires running makes you feel unfit…you aren’t just fighting the physical gap, but also a mental gap, and the physical gap reinforces the mental gap (running at a “normal pace” feels so much worse so you’re constantly questioning why you’re slow), and the mental gap reinforces the physical gap (“normal” training feels awful so you stop training).

There’s been a fairly recent trend of slow running groups, and emphasis on Zone 2 training, which is based on one’s personal state (i.e. heart rate) and not on an external measure like pace, which I think has been a great development in the community and is absolutely making a difference in many people’s lives, including myself. Being active is probably one of the greatest contributors to ones health and longevity, and the practice of “slow” running has made me much more enthusiastic about running as it’s become a far less painful experience. But why is there still an absolute measure of speed (paces that are considered slow/fast)? It makes sense that at the competitive or elite level, there is likely an ideal physiology combined with ideal training schedule, so there is an absolute upper-bound of human ability within reason that gets pushed, but barely (say sub-6-minute-mile). But it seems like regardless of height, gender, body type (? to be honest people I’ve run with have not had huge body type variations), and self-identifying runner-ness, there isn’t as big of a pace spread as I’d expect. There might just be a pace that people naturally converge to after a reasonable amount of running training, but perhaps when you’re starting out, there’s a bigger spread - some people are just naturally faster than others, and it’s hard not to feel like I’m on the upper-end of that distribution. I’m very curious to see if I’ll end up converging to a more standard running pace after some dedicated training, or if it’s like a self-defeating thing - some people are just not built to run and thus they don’t appear on standard studies about athletes and runners. If anything, that means it’s even more important to lower the barrier to the sport so that we can get more data points on research.

I’ve historically been very afraid of doing sports with other people because I’m very self-conscious of being an inconvenience to others. Especially when it comes to running, I’ve been trying to avoid running with people because I already hate the activity by itself, adding on the stressful layer of holding people back would just be too much for me. Last Friday, Angela organized a “cafe run” group (yeah, that is when I started writing this post, oops) and I finally felt comfortable enough with my running skills that I would immediately be left in the dust to join. It was quite difficult to keep up, but there were two other people who ran with me and the others were never too far ahead (though I’m sure they were going very easy), and I was surprised for the first time ever that I didn’t feel like there was a huge gap between me and the next slowest runner. I still have a lot more work to do of course, but I had a pretty interesting observation - the person I was running with, Iris, I noticed she was breathing pretty aggressively and had trouble keeping up conversation. I was certainly at my running limit too, but conversation was not as difficult for me and my breathing wasn’t as labored. However, my legs were absolutely maxing out whereas I felt like she could physically run faster than me. It was actually reassuring to see that all the effort I had been putting into my other sports (e.g. swimming and biking) were likely improving my fitness, given that my running limiter was truly just my running muscles.

I booked a meeting with a triathlon coach last week as well. After I opened with “I’m not very athletic because I’ve been slow my whole life” and explained to him all the things I’ve done, he responded, “it doesn’t sound like you’re unathletic, you just need some more targeted training.” He told me that it’s typically much harder for beginners to build up their long-distance aerobic base, which it seems like I have because I feel like I can work out for ~forever as long as I go slow enough, but most people have the ability to go fast, which I don’t. I can’t really explain it, maybe stressing my muscles in a bursty way feels deeply uncomfortable for me, but I’ve done enough physical activity that requires doing something for a very long time (like hiking or biking long distances) that I’m used to it. Perhaps usually when I do physical activity for a long time there’s usually a good reason, like I have to get to a destination, so I try to find the way to accomplish that goal that causes me the least physical pain. The coach explained that though my case is unusual, it kind of makes sense, because as individuals, we end up spending more time doing the things that we like or are good at, so if I don’t enjoy going fast because it isn’t an efficient use of energy for me, I will end up staying slow. Things seem so obvious once said out loud, but when a lot of advice on the internet is not geared towards your personal situation, it’s easy to get bogged down in the details and get confused. That and, I’m a very impatient person, which is why I haven’t consistently trained before - the feedback loop and incentive structure is just not fast enough for my brain.

On Saturday, I went on a hike with Steven and my friend Amy, and it was actually a throwback to the first hike Amy and I (along with two others) ever did, but in reverse - Mt. Jimba to Mt. Takao. The hike was even better than I remembered the first time, and Amy has been getting into trail running recently, so I decided to try a bit out on the flats. It was impossible for me to run uphill, which I figured was going to happen, but the flats and downhills felt pretty great. I used to think trail running was completely insane but I’ll keep telling myself that I’ll only get better from here.