A Bubble Bath Won't Fix This

Caring for the Body and Heart After a Disappointing Performance

It is haunting to know what you’re capable of and fall short. Facing the chasm between your will and your power, between ideal and real, how do you move forward?

For more than two decades, my wife has been by my side as running evolved from hobby to lifestyle. We’ve shared every finish line emotion, from heartache in Boston to elation in Sacramento. Whether I’m shattering my own notions of what’s possible, or hobbling across broken, she is there to catch me.

Lisa seems to know and believe something I must constantly work to convince myself of: we can’t always win, and when we lose, kindness is the way through.

This past weekend, at the first race of the season, I took an “L.” One should not, of course, hold their running in such harsh light. Trust, just as I train my body for endurance and speed, I train my brain to see judgment and replace it with acceptance. But, on roughly the same course, I was two minutes per mile slower than last year, which is an objectively terrible performance. And it gutted me.

If I had waited a week to write it, this would be a different piece. The bitterness would have faded, and I could present as someone who has things figured out.

But life and running don’t operate that way. There’s always a delay between pain and peace. I write today from the messy middle. In this place, we do some work and maybe succeed in shrinking the delay next time. Mostly, though, we show ourselves kindness, anchored to two questions.

How’s your body? How’s your heart?

After searching through the crowds, Lisa found me collapsed beneath the shade of a big evergreen. Overheated and disoriented, I’d stripped off my shoes and socks, flung them all around, and flattened into the grass. It must have been a sight.

I sat up dazed, covered in dirt and pine needles. She smiled. We kissed.

How’s your body?

Okay.

How’s your heart?

Okay.

I never want to alarm my wife. I was probably a little not-okay and she probably knew that. But, with this short exchange, I was on my way to healing. Does “healing” sound overly dramatic in this context? It is just running after all.

To understand why I am so affected by finish line emotions (and why you might be, too), it could be helpful to unpack another word: lifestyle.

What We’re Gonna Do Here Is Go Back

In the first sentence of this article, I mention running as a lifestyle. This means something different to me than surface interactions with culture, content, fashion, training, racing, or even identities like “marathoner.”

I’m talking about running as an embodiment of stuff internalized at a very young age. As my relationship with the sport has grown over time, it’s become an expression of deeply ingrained parts my self. These bits of psychic flotsam show up on race day as a desire to prove self-worth through precision and perfection.

In other words, it goes deeper than shoes and training plans. That complexity is why I find it difficult to brush off bad days. It’s why hacks and quick fixes are of little use over the long haul—wholly counterproductive in terms of building a sustainable, rewarding running practice.

When things go to hell—and also when they go well—I need to peel the layers of the onion, exploring why I feel the way I do, then patiently reconnecting with running in a slightly new place. The process can be usefully guided by those two questions Lisa has asked many times:

How’s your body? How’s your heart?

With these self-checks in mind, and my experiences in twenty-plus years of running and racing, here are a few ideas for navigating the first week after a tough day.

Race Day: Feel It All

Have the courage to feel everything and do nothing. It is okay to cancel plans and crumple into an aluminum foil-style ball. The analysis can wait. You can begin un-crinkling tomorrow. While I was still flat under that tree, Lisa, knowing my tendency toward busyness, said simply, “You’re not doing anything else today.”

• Body: Basic self-care. Eat and drink whatever sounds good. If it happens to be “high-quality,” great—you’ll probably feel better tomorrow. But this isn’t the time to beat yourself up over nutrition. Your only job is to replenish.

• Heart: Don’t stuff emotions down, and don’t cling to them either. You might feel broken, or like your best days are behind. Notice your inner voice, just know that some of what it’s saying isn’t true. Let everything flow through.

Day After: Seek Calm

After the big emotional exhale on race day, you might feel hollow and compelled to start filling the void with examinations of what went wrong and plans for what to do next. Be patient, because a lot of what you’re thinking is reactionary. Hear the voice, perhaps even write down what it says, but avoid acting. Today is for quiet.

• Body: Sleep in if you can. You might not be sore yet (because DOMS), but respect the stress you’re carrying and move gently. Some people like to jog to get blood to the muscles and speed recovery. Up to you. A walk could be just as nice.

• Heart: This is a good time to tap meditation and journaling. Headspace has a wonderful “sports recovery” course, and a “morning pages” style of journaling can help you begin releasing unhelpful narratives and connecting with what’s true.

Rest of the Week: Begin Reconnecting

The fog will start to lift and hope will return. It’s okay to begin taking stock of what might have led to the poor performance and charting a path forward. Just stay patient and try not to project too far down the road, which could lead to fear-based decision making. You have time. A lifetime.

• Body: Plan a return to running on a measured, self-compassionate timeline and intensity curve. After a race (even one that didn’t go well), there is an opportunity for a supercompensation stimulus, but only if you feel rested and recovered.

• Heart: Keep going with heart-centered practices like meditation, journaling, and yoga. The most important thing in this time period is reuniting with your why. Greet it like an old friend who’s been away, and be open to the idea that it might have changed. Meet yourself where you are, over and over. “Now I am here. I accept this. Now here. This is interesting, too.”

The Finish Line

Running can be fun, free, and light. I suspect these feelings are what first attracted many of us to the sport. As our relationship deepens, messy human stuff inevitably creeps in, and keeping things simple (ironically) takes some work.

Recovering from a rough day isn’t about finding and fixing what went wrong, because, say it with me: We’re not broken. Plus, running is not engineering. There’s no formula for avoiding failure. Much of the joy, in fact, lies in the fuzziness of it all.

The next time you’re knee-deep in the confusing, sad, mad, bitter-tasting first days after a letdown, remember there are a bunch of us out here going through the same. Check in patiently with your body and your heart, and let the mystery unfold.

Run lightly,
-mike

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