Apologies in advance

If you’ve ever run a marathon/half marathon—or heck, any sort of race, ever—you’ve totally done this before:

Bored someone to tears with all the intricate details of every single second of your fitness endeavour. 

On the one hand, you should be proud of your accomplishments. You did it! You’re awesome! But on the other hand … does the rest of the world really need to hear about the nasty blister you developed around 14.5km and how you had to stop for a minute at the next water station to pop it just to journey on? No. No, they do not.

We’ve all caught ourselves doing this occasionally: humble-bragging about our various fitness-related accomplishments. 

Let me show you how annoying it is. This is going to be pretty unbearable:

Let me tell you about my race last Saturday. But first, I have to go into detail about my months of preparation, talk about the encouragement and support I received from friends and family, and give you a kilometre-by-kilometre assessment of my state of mind and physical condition during the race.

I hate to say it, but it's going to take quite a bit of your time.

Kilometre split times, cramping, hydration levels, chafing—you're about to hear all of that. 

PLUS, I'll be dwelling on one point around 17km when I considered stopping but then decided to keep going because I'd already come so far. There's a lot to cover, so make yourself comfortable.

I'll inevitably start with how I carbo-loaded the night before the race, which by itself will not be a particularly long or objectionable story, but let me assure you it will segue right into an excruciatingly detailed explanation of the diet I maintain to stay in peak physical shape. And that, in turn, will lead into my training regimen, my special lightweight marathon gear, and, unfortunately for you, a lengthy period during which I expound upon the health benefits of distance running.

I know this isn't the kind of thing you want to listen to—hey, no one does—but I will include several anecdotes about my running partner Esna, a person you don't know and couldn't possibly be interested in hearing about.

Believe me, if I could stop myself from talking about this, I would. But I can't, so I will tell you all about my personal best time, and you'll think to yourself, "She is flipping crazy!" 

But here's the truly awful part: Out of politeness, you will have to pretend to be impressed by that number, even though, to you, it will seem completely arbitrary and hold no meaning at all.

You'll also be hearing quite a bit about the sense of accomplishment I felt upon finishing the race. You're going to hate that, trust me. There will be detestable phrases like "I never thought I could do it, but I did" and "It truly was a life-changing experience" and "It's a huge commitment, but definitely worth it."

I can barely express how insufferable I'm going to be.

I'm so sorry; I know you've done nothing to deserve this, but right when you think I'm finished talking—just when you get your hopes up—I'll mention how this wasn't my first race, and then you're going to hear details of my three other races. I can't even imagine how horrible it will be for you to hear how I believe I've progressed as a runner, but by that point in, there just won't be any getting around it.

While it is tangentially related, I may launch into an agonizing digression on the merits of five-day juice cleanses at any moment during the conversation. I beg your forgiveness.

Worst of all, I'm definitely going to run other races in the future, so I'll have to tell you all about the various races I'm thinking about entering and the pros and cons of each course. Please accept my deepest apologies in advance because as excruciating as today's discussion is, it won't end here.

Every day during my weeks of preparation leading up to the next race, I will make you stop whatever you're doing to tell you the number of kilometres I ran the previous evening. Isn't that awful? No one should have to listen to that.

I'll also have to tell you that you should run one of these things, too. I honestly can't convey how intensely sorry I feel that these words will soon be coming out of my mouth, but I will actually say to you that if I can run, so can you.

Wow, I'm really, really sorry. I don't know how you'll be able to tolerate this.

How To Fuel For A Half Marathon

Three great tips on carbo-loading and fuelling so you don’t hit the wall during your next 21.1. – By Pamela Nisevich Bede

Glen Montgomery

Brian asks: I’m getting ready to run a half marathon this weekend. If I need to carbo-load, what should I consume before the start of the race, and how do I fuel to avoid hitting the wall mid-race?

So first things first – the carbo-load. You might wonder if it’s as necessary for 21.1 as it is for 42.2. Honestly, I think it can’t hurt. A carbo-load before a half-marathon needn’t last as long or be as intense, but it is still important and will have a positive impact on your race performance.

Technically speaking, carbo-loading really comes into play any time you are out on the road for more than 90 minutes. Carbo-loading tends to lead to a bit of stiffness (because your muscles are fully stocked with glycogen) and weight gain (water retention), so for shorter events, it’s really not recommended.

Since most of us take longer than 90 minutes to complete a half-marathon, my recommendation is that you carbo-load in the days before the race. You can carbo-load in as little as one day, but to prevent carb fatigue and the worry of “Am I taking in enough?” aim to start two to three days before the half-marathon. You don’t necessarily need to increase your calories – just make sure most of those calories come from carbs, especially at lunch and dinner the day before race day.

Given time, your body can digest, absorb, and store the nutrients, and you can rely on those fuel stores on the next day’s run. The day before race day, have your main meal at midday and a smaller meal for dinner so you have plenty of time to digest.

The pre-race meal is also very important, as you want to toe the starting line with a tank that’s primed but neither empty nor overflowing. For more ideas on what to consume pre-race, check out this past lesson on how to fuel for an early morning run (since most races are held in the early a.m. hours).

Now that we’ve covered carbo-loading and what to eat before the race, it’s time to tackle your final question: “How do I avoid running on empty in those last few kilometres of the race?” As you may have noticed during your training, when you’re on the road for fewer than 75 minutes, you can usually rely on water, sports drinks, and your body’s own glycogen stores to carry you along. Any longer, and you begin to deplete those stores. Your muscles run out of fuel, and your body — not to mention your attitude — starts to drag. Consuming carbs mid-run can keep your blood sugar steady so you don’t crash and burn.

Instead of recommending something new on race day, here are some common techniques for fuelling which should help you blow by that late-race wall. Since every runner is different, you may want to try one or more of the following tips during training. Maybe all of them will work, and you’ll have plenty of options to thwart the feelings of weakness in those last few kays.

Tip #1:

Make sure to take in adequate fuel the day before your long run. While you are at rest, your body will have adequate time and energy to absorb and store those nutrients you ate, and then you can rely on this fuel for the following day. And don’t forget to eat a carb-rich, low-fibre, easy-to-digest, familiar breakfast the morning of the race!

Tip #2: Fuel at regular intervals and before you need to.

Wait until you’re out of gas, and you won’t be able to recover from feeling hungry or weak. Your muscles will be forced to play catch-up, and you won’t be able to bounce back and finish the run feeling strong. If you’ve ever had a long run that started strong and then got slower and slower, it may be time to consider what you did during the first few miles of the long runs you didn’t do during the last few kilometres. Many runners head out the door with a full tank, but feeling great, they neglect to re-fuel over the next few kays.

If you don’t start fuelling within that first hour, your empty-tank will likely catch up with you, and you’ll bonk. Not only will you hit the wall, but once your muscle glycogen stores are depleted, it can be very difficult to adequately recover during your run (and you may have to walk or crawl the last few kays). My advice is to avoid this whole mess? Aim for 30-60 grams of carbs per hour (and start using your chews, gels, or sports drinks early and often).

Tip #3: Don’t be afraid of fuel.

Maybe you’ve tried a product in the past and didn’t care for it, or it didn’t sit well with you. If that’s the case, know that there are always new products coming out. Try a variety of products and brands. For ideas on the many different fuel options available, check out this post on energy gels and alternatives to energy gels. Don’t be afraid to experiment with a few different products and see what works for you. Whatever concentrated fuel you are taking in, remember to dilute it with adequate water (or else it won’t be absorbed, and you will get nauseous). Lastly, find out what gel/product your race will hand out.

If you can tolerate or like the brand that the race is handing out, you’ll know that you won’t need to pack your own on race day. But if their chosen brand doesn’t work for you, you must plan ahead. In addition, you might try to find out at what kilometres the race will be handing out products and mimic that in your training to practice for race day.

Source: Runners World

Where have you gone, 10km?

Maybe it's just me waxing nostalgic, but doesn't it seem like the 10km has become the redheaded stepchild of the racing world?

There are multiple 5km every weekend. The half marathon is rapidly becoming a favourite in the running community, and the marathon is, well, the marathon. It's the granddaddy bucket-list race for most runners. 

But the 10km has gone from the 5km wingman to that odd distance that no one trains for or knows how to race. The new breeds of races—colour runs, foam runs, warrior dashes—have relegated it to obscurity. It's as if the 10km has been put in witness protection. 

Let's save the 10K from extinction.

Running 10km is nothing to sneeze at. It's far enough that we need to have a fair fitness level to complete it but short enough that we have to push ourselves out of that comfortable conversation speed to compete in it. It’s a great balance of speed, strength, endurance, heart, and guile. If you really want to find an event to test yourself, race a 10km.

Training for a 10km is an excellent stepping stone event for those looking to build from 5K training to a half marathon. It allows us to gradually build our training and racing mileage rather than jump to an event over 4x as far as what we've been tackling. Along with being a stepping stone event, it's also excellent prep work in between half marathon training seasons. 

Many of us run a spring half and a fall half. The problem is figuring out how to train in between seasons. Most folks tend to go polar. They either do absolutely nothing (or close to it) and then start back over from scratch, or they go to the other end of the spectrum and train like banshees and are fried mentally, emotionally, and physically when it's time to start training again. 

The 10km works out amazingly well for us to maintain our fitness level without going too crazy one way or another. It's just far enough where you'll need solid training, but not so long that it consumes large amounts of time.

The 10km is an enigma. It takes around an hour to complete and a lifetime to master. That is one reason why it has become a forgotten distance. But the 10km may be that key cog in your training to help you take down some PRs this year.

If you are looking for a race that will challenge your endurance, speed, and will, then take the time to tackle a 10km. Learn to appreciate this special distance.

Why do I run?

It happened again the other day.

“So, why do you run…?”

I held back a salvo of snarky retorts when the words left his mouth.

My answer:

“It’s a nervous habit, and skipping takes too much coordination. “Why? Did you see me?”

What am I supposed to do with a question like that? It’s like asking why you love your kids, why The Beatles were so good, or why a sandwich tastes better when someone else makes it.

You either get it, or you don’t.

Okay, I thought, putting on my best Jack Nicholson, you want answers? You want answers? I rolled up my mental sleeves. Let’s do this.

“Why do I run?”

🏃 I run because I believe you have to earn your cookies.

🏃I run because golf is boring.

🏃I run because these white legs have to get tan somehow.

🏃I run because I’ve never really enjoyed my IT band.

🏃I run because the runner’s high is real and legal.

🏃I run because I never want to waste money on laxatives.

🏃I run because while I never plan on stealing anything, I want to be prepared, just in case.

🏃I run because there’s no swagger like a post-long-run limp.

🏃I run because I don’t think you should murder people.

🏃I run because, yes, I would like a second piece of chocolate cake.

🏃I run because I think the 1980s were on to something with their infatuation with neon and spandex.

🏃I run because I spent four years of high school doing hypothetical math problems about Bob travelling so many kilometres per hour on his bike and Larry racing him at so many miles per hour in his sports car. I’ll be darned if I let those conversion skills go to waste.

🏃I run because how can you not have an adventure when you wake up at 4:30 a.m., strap on a headlamp, and cover twenty km on foot?

🏃I run because I like knowing the location and schedule of every bathroom in the city.

🏃I run because trails get muddy when it rains.

🏃I run because 1,800 calories a day doesn’t cut it.

🏃I run because sometimes you need to cry.

🏃I run because sometimes you need to laugh.

🏃I run because sometimes you need to vent.

🏃I run because sometimes you need to do all three in an hour.

🏃I run because an old man shuffles down his driveway in a white robe and house slippers at the crack of dawn every day, and, gosh darn it, he needs somebody to wave to.

🏃I run because I can solve more of the world’s problems in four kays than the South African Congress can solve in two years.

🏃I run because I don’t want to talk to anybody.

🏃I run because you won’t believe what happened yesterday, and guess what my husband said. I had the strangest dream last night. Did you hear about that one guy?

🏃I run because I can eat an entire pie if I’m not careful.

🏃I run because I want the free t-shirt that costs a R200.00 registration fee and 21.1 km of torture.

🏃I run because, let’s face it, it’s a lot cooler than rollerblading.

🏃I run because I feel like GI Jane when I strap on my water belt.

🏃I run because I’ve never finished a run and thought, “I wish I hadn’t done that,” but I have felt that way after eating at McDonald’s, listening to a Taylor Swift song or watching another episode of My Strange Addiction.

🏃I run because I like blowing my nose any way I want to, anywhere I want to, any time I like to.

🏃I run because I want to be strong, not skinny; because the only thigh gap that exists is the one that occurs when I’m stretching my hamstring; because I’d rather crush that hill at 20km than squeeze into a pair of skinny jeans; because these legs are muscular and powerful and do everything I ask them to do, which is ridiculously amazing if you ask me.

🏃I run because the little girl inside me still believes there’s a shot I could make the Olympics if only I could discover my “distance.”

🏃I run because I like to drive down the highway, read the kilometre markers, and keep driving and driving, knowing that I covered more distance on foot during my last training run.

🏃I run because I like being part of that group of people at 5:00 a.m. on Saturday mornings who are slogging the kays come rain or shine of hell or high water or all of the above.

🏃I run because it adds something to morning coffee that cream and sugar just can’t.

🏃I run because it makes me feel connected to the earth, nature, universe, and myself.

🏃I run because it disconnects me from everything else.

🏃I run because I like being ridiculous.

🏃I run because we are a great conflict, ballistic and controlled, chaotic and focused, delirious and strategic, contained and boundless, gluttons for punishment and jealous for glory.

🏃I run because we’re human, darn it and our bodies were made to move, our arms were made to pump, our quads were made to burn, our calves were made to contract, our feet were made to fly, our noses were made to drip, our eyes were made to water, our guts were made to spill, our cheeks were made to turn bright cherry red, our lungs were made to explode, our hearts were made to pump blood with frenzy and passion and single-minded obsession until we come as close to possible to unassisted flight, abandoning mortality and reaching, if only for a moment, the realm of divinity.

🏃I run because I’m alive.

“DOES THAT ANSWER YOUR QUESTION?”