runners' mailbag
Q&A

Runners’ Mailbag: Best Advice, Worst Runs, Runner’s High, & More

Send your questions on all-things running to [email protected] and I’ll answer them right here in the weekly Runners’ Mailbag.


What’s the most underrated training advice?

Just as Sheryl Crow proudly belted out on her 2003 breakup ballad, “The first step is the hardest.” At least, I think that’s what she sang. It can often be quite difficult for me to make out lyrics. Regardless, I think Sheryl would agree the most difficult part of going for a run—any run—is stepping outside your front door.

Even as an avid runner who would rather go for a long run on the weekend than hang out with anyone, there are countless days when I have absolutely no desire to run. Especially in the midst of 18-week marathon training.

Some days, I find the very concept of going for a run to be idiotic. What’s the point? Couldn’t I be doing something more fun? Shouldn’t I be doing something more productive? I could be watching a dumpy movie I’ve seen five times before. Or dicking around on my phone. Or going on a bike ride — just kidding! There’s nothing I hate more in this world than cyclists.

But when I eventually convince myself to make it out the door and begin the utterly mundane act of putting one foot in front of the other, I’m reminded why I love it so much. The uplifting way it makes me feel, physically and mentally. The symbolism of making forward progress. The sense of accomplishment. The routine and structure it adds to my life. The opportunity to finally get off my sagging couch or out from behind my cluttered desk to get some fresh air. Ok, now I’m starting to sound like a hippie. You see what running does to me?

The classic expression, “You never regret going for a run”, is a cliché for a reason. Even during the shitty runs—when the weather absolutely blows…for the 14th consecutive day, when you’re tired and low on energy, or when you’re on the verge of literally shitting your pants—none of it matters when you finish your run. Unless…you shit yourself…then you’ve got a bit of an issue. But it’s nothing a good rinse won’t fix! On second thought, maybe just toss the shorts? They were awfully crappy to begin with.

Good or bad, a run is typically the highlight of my day—that’s either the most pathetic or positive thing about me. Relax, I don’t have any kids yet and my wife doesn’t read these. But in case she sees this, “Hi, honey! I love you!”

Anyway, when it comes to running, your mind is often your own worst enemy. On the couch you’ll dream up far worse scenarios than what you’ll actually experience out on the road. Stop thinking! Just step out the door and let your body do the rest.


Is the runner’s high real or a myth?

Oh, it’s real, and it’s spectacular! Kinda. Sorta. It depends?

Contrary to popular belief, the runner’s high is not caused by endorphins. According to Dr. David J. Linden, professor of neuroscience at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, that relaxed post-run feeling may be due to endocannabinoids — “biochemical substances similar to cannabis but naturally produced by the body.” Ouch. You hear that, Saucony? Endocannabinoid > Endorphin. Turns out, their premium line of shoes is based on nothing more than a lie.

runner's mailbag
Is this woman high on runner’s?

Endocannabinoids are described as mood-improving neuromodulators that “promote short-term psychoactive effects such as reduced anxiety and feelings of calm.”

However, according to Linden, surveys have revealed the runner’s high to be rather rare, with a majority of athletes never experiencing it.

Oh boy. Apparently, even the runner’s high discriminates. So much for DEI.

Here’s a not-so-secret secret: just keep running and you’ll eventually feel something good. Hell, I started off this mailbag by professing my undying love for how running impacts me. Yeah, it was weird.

Look, running sucks at first, for everyone. I remember the days of suffering through immense pain in my lungs, limbs, heart, and virtually my entire body. I hated it. It sucked. That’s why I quit. Like, eight times. But eventually the sport (activity?) kept bringing me back for more.

Because even through “the suck” there were moments of elation. I may not have felt “stoned” (nothing compares to drugs) but there was enough evidence to make me realize running would only feel better (and easier) the more I did it. And so, here I am, 20-odd years later, and the pain is few and far between, except for the current back injury that’s preventing me from running for the first time in 20-odd years. How ironic!

Regardless whether the runner’s high exists, making running a regular part of life will, objectively, lift your spirits. Just remember Ms. Crow’s sage words of wisdom: “The first step is the hardest.”


Do treadmill miles “count” the same as outdoor miles?

No.


Why do easy runs feel so hard during training?

Ah yes, the “easy” run. AKA the mirage of the training plan. From afar it sure looks like an oasis: we’re running a shorter distance at a slower pace, with no pressure to perform.

But life is all about timing. And nowhere is that more evident than in running. No, I’m not talking about pace, rather, I’m referring to sequence. Easy runs suck ass because they take place after workouts, when our body is beaten, battered, and bruised from a speed workout, long run or, worst of all, a speed workout-long run hybrid. Gasp!

Long runs provide serenity, speed workouts exhilarate, daily runs deliver stability, but easy runs, well, easy runs make me feel…uneasy. They make me forget how to run. They make me relive what it was like to start running more than two decades ago; it’s a whole other type of generational trauma.

Some runners claim there’s no such thing as an easy run; the act of running in itself is challenging. These people have no idea what they’re talking about; don’t listen to them.

While workouts are physically more demanding, they keep us engaged because we have an actual goal to hit—unlike easy runs where the purpose is to run as slow as a malted milkshake amid a Mississippi mudslide. No, that’s not a real expression. Yes, it does slap.

Of course, easy runs serve a very useful purpose: they help repair our muscles…so we can go out the next day and destroy them all over again.

Oh, and on the rare days when our legs are actually feeling fresh, easy runs are challenging because we simply want to go faster but know we shouldn’t overexert ourselves.

The general recommendation is to run 3+ minutes per mile slower than your 5K pace or 2+ minutes per mile slower than marathon pace. Well, good luck coming within a minute of either of those paces after running a tough VO2 Max at 5k pace the day prior.


What’s up with your pull tab obsession?

As I’ve said countless times before, pull tabs are the worst of all-time (WOAT). I hate those little guys! I feel like shoe companies are conducting some kind of social experiment to see if we’ll notice pull tabs are useless. Sadly, it seems I’m the only one who’s picked up on it. Hello, people! They literally don’t do anything. Absolutely nothing. It’s been proven!

runner's mailbag
Just look at that stupid thing

If you need them to put on and remove shoes, you probably shouldn’t be running—or engaging in any physical activity. Seriously, if you’re having trouble putting on running shoes, I’d hate to see how difficult the act of running is for you. Putting on and taking off shoes is like 1/1,000th the level of difficulty of running. No, 1/10,000th.

My main grievance with pull tabs? I have two. They may be small, but they still add weight to the shoe. Even if it weighs just 0.1 ounces, that’s still 0.1 ounces heavier than it needs to be. Secondly, they’re tacky as hell. Runners already have the worst fashion sense; we certainly don’t need another garish accessory in our wardrobe.

Also, have I mentioned pull tabs serve no purpose? If you’re gonna add something to a shoe, why not make it useful? Like a storage space for gels. Or a key holder. Or a compartment for the ends of shoelaces to fit into so we don’t trip over them. Or, you know, literally anything other than a pull tab. I need a pull tab like I need a hole in my shoe.

As I found out last week, they’ve started adding pull tabs to tongues, of all places. It’s true. How does this make sense? The tongue—just like the heel—is already a pull tab itself! Just watch: next, they’ll add one to the outsole.


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