Flashback to when I took Intro to Psychology in college and proceeded to think every case also applied to me. And if that wasn’t annoying enough, I appointed myself the resident expert and tried to diagnose the “problems” of everyone around me.

Fast forward 35 years to last month’s run coach certification course. That was me after two full days packed with new terminology, brainstorming solutions for scenarios, training plan development, and much discussion with some very seasoned runners as well as experienced coaches. The entire weekend I kept thinking “I wish I’d taken this course when I first started running!” Ohhh, the plethora of mistakes I’ve made in my own training and racing over the last eleven years. How am I even still standing? Then a week after the class I ran one of my favorite local trail half marathons and was on sensory overload surrounded by runners with horrible running form, loud erratic breathing, and – wait for it…heel striking – oh the humanity! The ensuing cognitive dissonance plagued me for the entire 13 miles as these same runners blasted past me not once but twice as the course was an out and back. They were doing everything wrong yet not in any visible agony and going at impressive paces.

As this was a local race, I’d run with many of these runners over the years BUT never noticed any of the aforementioned maladies. I resisted the all-consuming temptation to offer free coaching advice and preserved friendships in the process.

Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.

Now the question remains: How do I actually use this wealth of knowledge?

My first thought was I need to practice what I preach. I don’t want to tell someone to do something I have not done, or would be willing to do, myself. As I’m writing this, a stack of running books are staring back at me from the dining table. Best sellers and recommended reading. Some I’ve read cover to cover. Fast reads – good balances of the practical, physiological, and psychological. Some are more reference manuals as they are highly technical, filled with charts and mind-spinning numbers. I mention this because I’m swinging the pendulum between thinking I know it all and I have so much I need to learn. To be a successful coach or runner? One in the same? Simply put, do I have to be a good runner to be a good coach?

Yes.

My definition of “good runner” has evolved over the years. When I first started running in 2008, I would’ve put fast and consistent PR’s at the top of the list. Today, overcome adversity and progress are at the top. Don’t get me wrong – I still applaud speed and marvel at personal records (PR’s). Do I want to PR my next race or any race? Absolutely! But is it realistic? At what cost? My perspective has shifted from results-oriented to progress-driven. Not an easy shift.

Last Saturday I set out to do a 20 miler. Part of the 12 week training plan I’d written for myself leading up to Carmel Marathon on April 4th. My sixth year and marathon #53. One thing that has changed significantly in my training over these last 52 marathons is allowing for wiggle room. That’s the +/- factor not just in any given run or week but also race goals. Not to be confused with unfounded compromises, rationalizing away potential, or plain old excuses. “I’m supposed to run 9 miles today but I’m not feeling it so I’ll just do 6 and tack on 3 more this weekend.” “I’m no where near a race PR, so just finish.” “It’s too cold.”

Wiggle room allows me to be better in tune with my body. Wiggle room says don’t push it if you feel like you might aggravate an old injury or feel a new one surfacing. Wiggle room gives latitude to go longer and/or faster as well. An attitude of latitude, you could say. For most of my running career, I beat myself up when I didn’t meet my own goals and expectations. I did not allow for wiggle room. Ten years ago, I would have scoffed at the idea. A little success too soon can be a dangerous thing. Combined with an OCD personality equals a recipe for inevitable disappointment. You know you can’t PR every race, right? You know you shouldn’t run on that swollen ankle even though your training plan says to do 38 miles this week, right?

Back to that 20 miler last Saturday…

It was sunny and 20 degrees warmer than the previous week’s cold, foggy 15 miler. The rationalizing began earlier than usual – around mile 12. That internal dialogue which progressively tries to talk you out of what you SHOULD be able and confidently set out to do a short ninety minutes ago. I dread the middle miles of long runs and marathons. There’s still sooooooo many miles left as the first signs of tiredness creep in. If I could record those conversations and play them back later, I’m not sure if I’d laugh, cry, or give up running all together as a result. “I’m NEVER doing this race again!” “I should’ve downgraded to the half when I had the chance!” “Where is the next porta-potty? Nevermind, that bush will do!” “That cute little 25 year old in the sports bra that blew past me – oh honey, just wait til you have a few kids, a dog, work full time, and arthritis kicks in!” If there were an actual coach running alongside me that could hear all that was going on inside my head…

Saturday’s long run was sort of a litmus test for the upcoming marathon. My last marathon was San Francisco last July – the longest stretch in about a decade I’ve gone without running a marathon. I had deferred Chicago and CIM with my dad’s passing in October and subsequent lack of training leading up to December. Saturday felt kind of like starting over again. Like being a marathon newbie back in 2009. You’d think after 52 marathons…

Wiggle room is building latitude – and forgiveness – into your training plan. It’s grace for the race. It’s when your training plan says 20 miles, it’s unseasonably warm, your arthritis flares up, you feel like walking the entire way back to the car at mile 16, then you remember from the coaching class that some 30 second bursts can remedy fatigue, then – hallelujah – you feel good after mile 17, you wonder how you made it this far when you thought “THERE’S NO WAY!,” then at that exact moment your Garmin signals mile 18 the song “WAY MAKER” starts on your iPod shuffle carrying you victoriously to mile 19.

But your training plan called for 20. Ah yes…plus or minus.

I started out saying I wish I’d taken this coaching class when I first started running. Let’s be real. Back then I didn’t know enough to know I needed it. Or that it applied to me. When you think what you’re doing is working, injuries and life’s curve balls haven’t reared their ugly heads, and you feel invincible, you could say you don’t need a coach. The reality is you’re actually uncoachable. The hardest, most humbling year of running AND life for me was hands-down 2019. God’s timing with this coaching class was in and of itself a textbook example of how He knows His runner better than even she knows herself.

‘Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.’ 2 Corinthians 12:9 NLT