I Don’t Love Running Right Now, And That’s OK

While writing a story or editing someone else’s, I ask myself, “Does it pass the ‘who cares?’ test?” This question forces the writer to think through, “What’s the story, and why would anyone care or relate to it?” Good stories build around tension from conflict or change.

I haven’t blogged about running in a long time because I fear it would be like writing about a flat line and not pass the “who cares?” test. I’ve also been tuning out the news about the sport, my mind focused instead on the real, calamitous news of current events and on my family’s home transition. The North Face Endurance Challenge 50-miler is happening this weekend? I couldn’t tell you who’s toeing the line.

Physically, I just don’t feel very good running. I get through it, and when I feel better afterward, I wonder if I feel better because I ran, or because I’m done with it and don’t have to go farther. A nagging stiffness and soreness on my right side that’s been bugging me since spring—both around the iliac crest of the pelvis (likely where the tensor fasciae latae muscle attaches) and in the upper hamstring area—makes running feel plodding rather than flowing. I’m significantly slower than a year ago, and anything longer than two hours feels arduous.

I wanna feel this way running again. (This shot was taken on Mount Diablo in 2015.)

I can’t recall a time I felt this degree of ambivalence about running, which is supposed to be my passion. I considered that perhaps I’m fitting the profile of burnout, but burnout usually follows overtraining, and since September following the Telluride Mountain Run, I’ve been undertraining, taking an extra rest day during the week and cutting long runs back to medium length.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote John Medinger, who coordinates the Ultra Runner of the Year ballots for UltraRunning Magazine, and admitted my feelings. It’s an honor and responsibility to gain a UROY ballot, a little like being a member of the Academy to vote on Oscars.

“I’m looking ahead to December and feeling as though I can’t give the UROY ballot the time and attention it will deserve,” I wrote Tropical John. “It’s not just that I’m overly busy with work and getting ready to put the house on the market; it’s also that I don’t feel well qualified this year. Other than following and fanning over Courtney Dauwalter, I really haven’t followed the sport closely, especially the men’s field. … I’m being candid because I don’t think that I deserve a UROY ballot when so many others around the country meticulously follow who’s doing what in ultrarunning.”

John wrote back, “No worries,” and I felt relief at offloading that ballot to someone who cares.

I really want to feel like my old self—not my “old” current self, but rather, my younger, energetic, smooth-running self. Objectively I know that these “blahs” with regard to running have a lot to do with my focus and stress related to an upcoming move and life transition. We plan to put our Piedmont house on the market shortly after new year’s, then downsize to an Oakland apartment; then in May, we’ll move to our new home in Colorado and begin living there year round. We’ll keep the Oakland apartment for Morgan’s work. The process now underway of sorting through nearly two decades’ worth of stuff and the attendant memories stored in the nooks of our old home, and getting ready to give away or sell much of it and thereby close a big chapter in our lives, is taking a psychic toll—but that’s another story.

Thumbing through the new November issue of UltraRunning Magazine,  I stumbled upon Ellie Greenwood’s column, headlined “Re-igniting Your Passion.” Her advice resonated with me, and I realized that my case of the blahs likely is a story to which others can relate, hence I sat down to write this blog post.

Ellie writes, “The first step to get your love for ultrarunning back is to admit that you don’t love running right now, and that’s okay. …. If you find that you’re routinely not looking forward to runs at all and having to force yourself to keep going once you are out on the trail, then it’s time to step back and ‘reset.'”

She advises removing any pressure of upcoming race goals. Yes, good advice. To that end, I decided not to do the annual Turkey Trot 5K. Whereas in past years this local race motivated me to get my speed back and push hard, I have zero desire to do it this year, because I don’t want to push hard and don’t want to quantify how much I’ve slowed down. Running it deliberately slower “for fun” just doesn’t sound fun. So I’m giving myself permission to skip it.

I’ll go to the Quad Dipsea that weekend, however, more as a community celebration—to reconnect with others—than to race. I’ve only done the QD once, in 2016 when I was in better shape for Western States that year, and I broke 6 hours and got the award for the most-even splits for each lap on the 7.1-mile gnarly trail. I know I can’t get close to that performance this year, given the shape I’m in, so I’m simply going to take it lap by lap with gratitude for my ability to run at all (keeping in mind a good friend who’ll be there volunteering instead of running due to persistent injury) and enjoy the company of others.

Ellie also advises taking a true hiatus from running, lasting at least three weeks. I definitely want to try this, starting the week after Quad Dipsea through Christmas. I’m eager to focus on wellness and low-impact workouts, and improving my nutrition, rather than running. I’ll also rededicate myself to figuring out what’s the cause of this right-side hip-area and hamstring soreness and resolve it. When I first contemplated a December break, I hesitated because I’ve signed up for the March 3 Napa Valley Marathon, which means I should be training in December. I realize it’s more important to take a break and follow the first piece of advice—remove any pressure of upcoming race goals.

Meanwhile, I’ll keep finding and appreciating the joy and satisfaction I get through my clients’ running. Their enthusiasm inspires and rubs off on me. I love getting messages like this one from Gina, a busy mom of three who’s living in Hong Kong and trying to find time to train for an upcoming 100K and a week-long stage race. She wrote to me about her 52K race on Saturday: “On so many fronts I had the best race I’ve ever been in. … But then I took a wrong turn (as did a few others) down a hill to a village and then realised something wasn’t right. No ribbons etc and no racers, so back up I had to go. It added 2k to my race. Who cares! Lesson learnt. I was having such a good time and singing away in my head that I totally missed the sign.”

And I especially relished witnessing my client Kim at her first 100-miler two weekends ago, the Rio Del Lago 100, as she came into each aid station with a smile and then showed grit throughout the night. As I paced her during the final 30 miles and inwardly struggled with my own fatigue and soreness, I watched her run with determination and thought to myself, “I don’t have it in me now to race a 100, but I’ll get back to that point next year.”

A fun and satisfying day with Kim, center, and another client Heather, on the right, at the Rio Del Lago 100.

Starting in the new year, I really hope to feel eager to ramp up again. I signed up for an ultra in mid-April with a destination and route that intrigues me, since I’ve never visited that region: Aravaipa Running’s 55-ish mile Whiskey Basin around Prescott, Arizona. Then I’ll see how the rest of the year unfolds.

I intend to follow (or at least, attempt to follow) the advice in Ellie’s concluding paragraph: “Take some time away (people with stress fractures are allowed to, so folks with mental fatigue are also allowed), try to stave off feelings of guilt or obligation, ignore what others are doing, and when the time feels right, bring your running back to basics with a focus on enjoyment over performance.”

I’m not sure if this post passed the “who cares?” test, but it helped me feel a little more optimistic, a little less blah.

p.s. A Special Promo

As I mentioned on Facebook and Instagram recently, I am selling copies of my book The Trail Runner’s Companion: A Step-by-Step Guide to Trail Running and Racing, from 5Ks to Ultras, signed and personalized at the same discounted price you’d get from Amazon, plus shipping. You can check out its reviews and buy it from Amazon here,but if you’d like a personalized copy for yourself or for someone else as a gift, email me the details!