Over the years I’ve been asked if I’ve made mistakes in training, and often share some stories with my sports massage clients to help show them that none of us get it right all the time and that it isn’t something to feel ashamed of. It’s something to learn from. 

Training too hard

Most of my teens were spent either running or injured from running. Granted I had no coach, and there wasn’t the vast amount of information available that there is today, but it didn’t even cross my mind to look into it. I did what so many of us do or have done, and “just ran”. Every session was a hard effort as I thought that was the only way to improve. 

Inevitably I’d be injured within 4-6 weeks and not run for at least 2-3 weeks. Each time I probably should have stopped sooner or missed the odd run, but come rain, pain or stinking colds, I would be out there grinding myself into the pavement.

 

Poor equipment

This one is short and sweet. I ran in astro turf shoes, on paths, for the first year of running when I was 11 or 12 years old. 

Get good shoes, that’s all I’ll say.

 

I let running impact my mental health negatively

In my late teens until about the age of 22, whenever I wasn’t injured, I’d essentially run the same couple of routes 3-4 times per week, each time tracking it on a stopwatch and recording it on a piece of paper stuck to the side of my wardrobe.

I expected improvement every single time, or I was a failure. I was weak. Now part of this attitude was my own unidentified issues with mental health. It didn’t help that I hadn’t really considered what barriers were in my way and didn’t see that it was ok to make allowances for how I felt or my energy levels.

I’d set an alarm for 6am to get up, get ready and run. But so often the cold, dark and sleepy mornings would see me turn off the alarm and go back to bed, hating myself for being weak. At times I’d get up and dressed in my running clothes, before changing my mind with some excuse as to why I shouldn’t go. Overall it was a recipe for falling out of love with running.

I didn’t consider that I should just run later in the day. It was as though getting up at the crack of dawn to run was a badge of honour, something that obviously wasn’t the case, especially when I then rarely managed it.

 

Responding poorly to an injury

This isn’t the type of injury you might expect. I didn’t get hurt running, rather my dog was attacked by two other dogs, and in breaking them up my last resort was to grab hold of the dog’s jaw and pull it apart with my bare hands. A deep cut to my thumb was millimetres from severing the tendon. Luckily, despite some nasty wounds, Murphy was ok and operated on that morning, and I needed to have a minor surgery on my thumb to cut away damaged tissue and clean out the wound. 

I was due to race the next day, and take part in the Boston UK marathon in 4 weeks, but was told not to run for at least a week because, in the surgeon’s words “If you fall over and that thumb bends back you could lose it”. Needless to say I skipped running for the next 10 days, but rather than focus my efforts on strength training, drills and making sure I was ready to run again when I could, I caved and did nothing but eat, sit on my backside and look after Murphy for those 10 days, gaining half a stone.

It was traumatic, I won’t lie, and I’m not suggesting I should have responded differently, but the fact remains that I could have done things differently which would have helped not only my upcoming race performance, but my mental health as well. 

 

Walking in a race

It’s been a little while since I’ve done this, but during the Jolly Jags 10k in September 2019, I took on what I knew was an ambitious pace considering I’d raced 18 miles in the Round Norfolk Relay a week before. Nevertheless, I’d been improving steadily and hadn’t raced 10k for about 3 months, so I went for it. 

Fast forward to mile 6, and I walked three or four times for short stints, all the white berating myself and being passed by people I’d been gradually progressing past all that year. The image for this blog is from around 3 miles into the race and you can see on my face and from my posture that I was struggling early on.

The walking was frustrating, but more so was realising afterwards that if I’d slowed to even a gentle jog, I would have possibly snuck a PB still. I gave up too easily when it got tough and my goal time wasn’t possible.

 

My 2nd marathon, albeit a virtual one in November 2020, was meant to be a big thing for me, having run faster than my desired 6:15/mile average pace for 20 miles 3 weeks before the event, without tapering and whilst wearing a hydration pack. With those things accounted for, I expected a sub 2:45 clocking to be all but a formality when the event rolled round. Alas, poor preparation and being too rigid with my start time meant I warmed up very poorly on a cold day, and started dropping the pace from mile 16, with a further 11 laps of my local park to go. Having friends and family watching really got in my head, and I caved, walking 4 or 5 times for 30 seconds or so before a Norfolk running legend, John Moore, said he’d run the last few miles with me to stop me from walking. It helped, but my word it was horrible. Again it was as much about mindset as it was physically struggling.

 

Talking of giving up.

 

DNFs

A term those outside of track athletics and ultra running might not know, it simply means Did Not Finish. Yep. I’ve been there. Twice.

The most recent was the Peddar’s Way ultra in January 2020. I’d been in the first 3 swapping the lead with two other guys, but through a particularly long patch of deep mud through a field, I tried to stay with a very tall guy despite my little legs sinking. By the end of the field, my hip was really sore, and I had to run/walk the next 8 miles to the aid station where I sensibly but disappointingly retired from the race. It was a torn hip flexor, so I made the right call, but had I eased back originally, I might have finished at least.

The more embarrassing one was around 2007 in the Norwich Half Marathon. I’ll hasten to add that I’m a very different person to that 17 year old version of me who was constantly injured and heading into events under-prepared. Long story short, I did the first lap of 6 and a bit miles, got back into the showground and pulled out just after mile 7. I had some pain in my knee, but realistically could have finished. Partly it was down to the goal I’d set myself, but I also just didn’t want it enough. A term used by World Champion Triathlete Lesley Paterson is the “legit quit” or the “shit quit”. This was definitely the latter.

 

Nutrition mistakes

Aside from not really carb loading before any of my first 4 marathons and ultras, I once committed the cardinal sin of racing with a fuel strategy I’d never used before.

This was during the Round Norfolk Relay in 2019, running 18 miles at around 11pm. I’d been making the switch from SiS gels to Torq prior to this event, doing some slightly longer runs where I alternated between the two brands to let my stomach adapt to the higher volume of carbs. 

I got to the day of the event, and a mixture of bravery, stupidity and a desire to not let my team down meant I took 3 Torq gels instead in the hope it would help me perform better than alternating. In fairness, it worked well as I finished a couple of seconds ahead of my projection, but around mile 15 the stomach cramps kicked in badly. Luckily nothing exited my body, but there was a definite desire for expulsion and I had no idea where it would be coming from. It made the last few miles wholly unenjoyable and no doubt a bit slower than they might have been.

The lead up to my first ultra in 2019 was another classic example of poor food choices. In my defence, it was on the 28th December, but I’d eaten nothing but chocolate, cakes, crisps and pastries for several days. Although I managed to win the small event, two stops for stomach issues in the toilets lost me a lot of time and with the first issues starting around mile 10, it’s fair to say it was more than a little unsettling.

 

Not getting expert advice

I had no idea about my body really when I ran as a teen and in my early twenties. I’d never considered I might have some issue that was, at least in part, out of my control. It didn’t help that I never grabbed the opportunities that were presented to me, such as training under Paul Evans and the Norfolk Cross Country squad during High School, although that wasn’t 100% my choice to make with financial and access factors impacting the decision as well.

It wasn’t until I saw a friend/client who’s a physiotherapist that I found out I was hypermobile. I’d seen other NHS physios before during injuries for my shoulder and knee, but despite this and multiple dislocations of joints during my childhood, nobody had picked up that something wasn’t quite right. Add to the mix a sideways bend in my spine which, although minor, means my body doesn’t align all that well, and it’s no wonder I used to get hurt all the time.

If I’d looked for help, and been willing to spend a bit of money to prioritise my health and running before shiny trinkets and fancier running clothes, I’d have avoided a whole lot of pain over the years. Luckily I work with some great people now who help me keep on track with these issues.

 

Hopefully that hasn’t been too negative, but I really think it’s important to share our stories to help other people realise it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. I’ve made some big leaps forward over the last few years of running, but it’s been far from perfect and none of the success and progress has been easy. Nobody gets it right all the time so don’t be too hard on yourself. Try not to make excuses, but do listen to any legitimate reasons and change what’s in your power to do.

 

Written by Kyle Brooks, Running Coach based in Norwich, Norfolk