I recently celebrated my ten-year “run-aversary,” reflecting mischievously on how in the formative stage, I would sneak downstairs to the poorly lit basement in the family home to alternate between walking and running on my older brother’s treadmill. In those early months, my motivation was a mix between rebuilding strength from an undiagnosed illness and a desire to push myself, to see if I—a non-runner—could learn how to run.

You may guess the ending to this flashback is a whopping, Yes, she can run, and I would playfully jest that fits more as the rising action in this narrative. You see, in these ten years as a runner, my weekly mileage fluctuates as the seasons of life also change—the busy-ness of work, the onset of injuries or illnesses, and the discovery of new hobbies impact my commitment levels beyond that skeletal framework of three weekly runs.

Sheepishly, I wish I was more of an expert on how to qualify for Boston rather than rebuilding running habits cyclically. But alas, this is my truth, and serves as the entry point to this collective conversation on sharing strategies with both new runners and those looking to get back into the sport. My contribution here is a curated collection of some pointers that I have and continue to successfully employ in my efforts to rebuild and scale up my mileage. They can be grouped into three pillars: (1) goal-setting and tracking; (2) mindset; and (3) technology. 

Pillar One: Goal Setting and Tracking

Experts across industries and sport often celebrate the simple act of writing down one’s goals as a key strategy to success. This holds true in running whether the goal is a Couch to 5K program, to expand mileage by 10 percent weekly, or to run a personal best (PB) at that next race (whenever this may be). The efficacy of goal setting stems from: moving a hope or intention into the realm of practicality—a written goal necessitates an action plan; serving as a mechanism of individual accountability; and providing an opportunity to undertake trend analysis to identify opportunities for modifications. 

I have used multiple training journals and the Believe Training Journal has proven to be very useful in the areas of creating space to: (1) evaluate the perception of effort on any given run; and (2) rate the overall quality of the run out of ten and identify variables that may have impacted the performance (e.g., weather, emotional stressors, diet). Through this process, I have also learned how motivating it can be to revisit entries that shine a spotlight on those awesome, awe-inspiring, floating on-top-of-the-world runs to keep me forging ahead. 

[Now for you: Which journal—or more broadly, goal-setting—habit have you found the most helpful? Share in the comments below.]

Pillar Two: Mindset 

As someone who has previously had great amateur success in running, the most significant mindset barrier that I can fall into is the unproductive trap of comparisons to my former speedy self. Sure, if I limit my comparisons to singularly using them as a strategy to overcome the “I can’t do this” – it can be helpful to remind myself that I could do this before, and therefore I can likely do it again. Otherwise, it can quickly slip into the realm of toxicity.

A useful tip provided to me years ago is the importance of a mental mantra—a short phrase or a meaningful word that helps propel us forward when we might be tempted to give up. During different seasons, I have used the following ones – “one step forward”, “you’ve got this”, “move forward.”

[Reader, do you have mantras that you repeat to yourself while running, especially on the harder days? Tell us in the comment box below.]

And in those moments when a mantra is not proving helpful, I embrace the twenty-minute hack. I set my watch for 20 minutes and give myself permission to end the run then. Usually, by that point in the run, I have overcome the initial hurdles and will choose to keep going for another several kilometres. However, if that is all I can muster, I will still gain the cardiovascular and endorphin benefits of a sustained elevated heart rate.

Pillar Three: Technology 

Like many runners, I go through cycles of being a “puritan” (i.e., free from technology) and at other times, I use all the tech gadgets I can to help keep me motivated in rebuilding habits. From a safety perspective, I will always run with lights, beginning at dusk, regardless if I’m running in the darkness of winter or in the glory of midsummer.

I find a sports watch (I currently use a Garmin Felix 5x) motivating and nearly six months later, I am still discovering new aspects of its utility, including a built-in training program. There’s that psychological nudge to keep me tying up my laces to continue a streak. However, at times, I find the “training condition” function a bit challenging in that it will rate each run based on my previous ones. Who wants confirmation that a challenging run doesn’t meet your level of fitness. For this very reason, I deliberately choose to opt of wearing a sports watch at least once a week. This provides an opportunity for me to “de-intellectualize” running and lean in to all the pleasures of the sport.

Outside of these three pillars, I am a member of a running community in Toronto where I am nurtured, championed, and challenged to continue to grow. In these spaces, my fellow runners remind me that the muscle memory of runners is strong and to be gentle on myself—and most importantly, to enjoy each run as much as possible. That is the gift of today.

On any given grey mid-winter’s morning, with my seasonal affective disorder in effect, it can sometimes take all my physical and mental energy to move one heavy leg a short stride ahead of the other. On these days, I try not to think that this needs to be repeated 7,500 times to finish that 7-kilometre neighbourhood run, battling undulating hills and tirelessly switching between the sidewalk and road to dart pedestrians. And yet, I faithfully tie up my laces—and have done so for the past decade, logging on average five runs a week—to show up for myself: my past self, my present self, and my future self. 

This relentless drive is the spirit of a runner—an energy that is unstoppable. Who else in their leisure consciously spends upwards of thirty minutes running outside during polar vortexes or heat warnings? Gives up their evenings with loved ones to rest for the next morning’s painfully long run that may later result in tight muscles, or worse, shin splints? Wakes up before dawn on their days off to compete in a race for a finishers’ medal that has zero monetary value, and everyone receives?

This is the runners’ way.

The trinity of running—for my past, present and future self—is one of the most impactful lenses in which I can view the spirit of the sport.  

The Spirit of a Runner’s Past 

Ever look back on any given hardship and wonder how you made it through? In hindsight, we could list the benefits that life’s challenges produce in terms of strengthening our resiliency muscles, creating a narrative of perspective—etcetera, etcetera. And as runners, we may not necessarily see the value of our running habits until long-after the hardship. For instance, six years ago, during a familial mental health crisis, all I could do—outside of copious amounts of sleep—was go for a protracted run each day. It’s also how I coped with a misdiagnosis, job loss, and the COVID-19 pandemic. These experiences have taught that, moving forward, I know I will be able to rely on the restorative powers of running for obstacles that may present themselves today or tomorrow.

The Spirit of a Runner’s Present

I take great pleasure in the cerebral; the downside is that it can leave me feeling detached from my physical body, especially from my hands and feet. For many years, my mind floated through the seasons of life with my body trailing until a crippling panic attack manifested, revealing the limitations of chronic disembodiment. I quickly became fearful of walking itself—that, at any moment, I might collapse. I tried various treatments until running proved to be the most effective physician-prescribed antidote. 

Now, on a good day, each stride seamlessly propels my body forward, the wind brushing against my face. I inhale bursts of pleasure as I watch the contours of my shadow bouncing along with me. In these moments, I feel capable, strong, and savour my body’s ability to run—to move freely. My brain, too, benefits, from significant boosts to creativity and problem-solving. During these runs, I can create, brainstorm work-related or interpersonal challenges, and feel so hopeful for the present day.

On the harder days, a run—even if all I can manage is 3.5 kilometres (i.e., the equivalent of about twenty minutes)—will release enough endorphins that I am in a marginally better state of mind than if I had easily opted out. By now, I have enough experience to understand that a run today is both a run for yesterday and one for tomorrow.

The Spirit of a Runner’s Future 

In 2018, about seven years into running—representing ten 10Ks, four half-marathons, and one marathon—I scaled down significantly. I started teaching evening courses at a community college, in addition to my day job. The tradeoff of having an abundance of disposable income was less time and lifestyle creep. I swapped out homemade meals for delicious culinary dishes from local multicultural eateries. Eventually, I had to swap my size six jeans for a larger pair, but it wasn’t the minor weight gain that resulted in my aha moment. It was an intense visual imagery of a future doctor’s appointment, decades from now, in which the physician informs me of high blood pressure. How could I feign surprise when this hypothetical hypertension would be the cumulative impact of a lifetime of day-to-day lifestyle choices? I resigned from teaching, tied up my laces, and initiated the long process of reestablishing my running habits—all for the health of my future self.

In what ways has running helped your past, present or future self? Talk to me, and we’ll put your responses in the next issue of iRun.