Protect Tomorrow's Run

A Mantra for Effortless Consistency // Plus: 🌵Javelina Diaries 03

I have just three things to teach: Simplicity, patience, and compassion. These three are your greatest treasures. Simple, you return to the source of being. Patient, you accord with the way things are. Compassionate toward yourself, you reconcile all beings in the world.

—Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching

Our main challenge in running, as in life, is to not overcomplicate it with the (often misguided) machinations of our monkey minds. Pesky, prehistoric parts of the brain would have us believe we are constantly under threat. This can feel like urgency: Today’s run is everything.

Our evolved mind knows it’s not true, that we have a lifetime of running ahead of us. Therein lies the tension—an internal tug-of-war between striving and enoughness. Which wins? The Tao offers some guidance. We need an approach that’s simple, self-compassionate, and above all patient.

Patience: A Paradox

In running, we are most at ease when we fully inhabit the present moment. In fleeting bursts of lightness—mind quiet and body free—we feel fast, yet unrushed. These are sacred places of sublime patience: nowhere to be but where we are.

But, there is a contradiction runners have to unwind before we can truly sink into the present. We must consider the future.

When I quit drinking, an early writing assignment in therapy was to imagine, in great detail, a future without alcohol. Biochemically, the exercise set in motion some much-needed brain rewiring. At a more basic level, I was building belief tools. After years in a certain “default mode,” I needed to override my operating system.

Creating a picture of tomorrow—as long as we don’t attach too tightly—can help us get through the uncomfortable parts of today. By expanding our view beyond what’s right in front of us, we simultaneously become more attuned to the moment.

I liken it to trail running, where we occasionally look up to see what’s coming, and once in a while down to orient ourselves in space, but mostly three or four steps ahead. This modulation of view—out, in, out, in—keeps us balanced above changing ground and mindful of what’s ahead.

Self-Compassion: A Softening

Knowing when to change our view is a skill acquired through practice. More often than not, the monkey mind urges us to go harder, to prove something, to be more. It is our task to notice these provocations… then soften.

Self-compassionate runners see through the myth of urgency. We know there is no final finish chute. Running will be available to us tomorrow, the next day, and the next, for as long as we choose it. Understanding this truth is like a deep exhale. It quiets the noise and creates space.

From within this expansive mindset, we regard running not as a task toward an end, but as a lifelong companion—something precious to care for. Our softness is not weakness, it’s wisdom. We need only a straightforward expression to bring to mind when we sense false voices of anxiety goading us to push.

Simplicity: A Mantra

Your hand is on the dimmer switch. If your true, considered voice urges a bit more effort, a little burst of speed, one more mile… then, by all means, turn it to the right. But, if the sound seems to come from a place of deficiency or fear, pause. If your breath is short, if you feel more tight than light, think:

Protect tomorrow’s run.

Then, picture yourself tomorrow, back at it again with the knowledge that you exercised a runner’s most vital and elusive skill: self-regulation. You beat the demons who would incite you to overreach and injury. You chose patience over pressure.

Run lightly,
-mike

Enjoy Running Lightly? Support the work by becoming a paid subscriber.

🌵Javelina Diaries 03: The Sturdy Thirty

The Javelina Jundred—my first-ever 100k—is in 190 days. This should be… interesting. I have a summer of trail racing queued up and training is in full swing. Check out the daily runs over on Strava, and the monthly journals at #javelina-diaries.

---

March Highlights

• Miles: 200 (Feb: 163)

• Vert: 14,975’ (Feb: 7,050’)

• Average HR: 125 (Feb: 121)

Notable Workouts

• 3/8: Tired Tempo (16 miles total)

  • 2x800 (6:20), 4x400 (6:00), 4x1mi on/off (7:00/8:00)

• 3/16: Twenty Hills (18 miles total)

  • 4x (5x1min on, 1min off, uphill)

• 3/22: Sturdy Thirty (30 miles total)

  • Details below

March was solid. I began incorporating “base speed” in the form of one-minute-on, one-minute-off efforts. I was introduced to this concept by

Steve Magness

’ The Science of Running. Several marathon cycles ago, it was a revelation to run fast in the base phase. I’d always trained pyramidally, saving speed for the weeks before race day.

Magness writes:

“…during the base phase, establishing good biomechanics and comfort at faster paces is a must. With the high amounts of mileage being run, it is easy to get flat, lose responsiveness in the muscles, and develop poor biomechanics. To counteract this, easy speed work should be done in the form of surges, strides, aerobic intervals, and rhythm work.”

So, we should still emphasize aerobic development and strength in the base, but adding measured speed work is icing on the running economy cake.

At the aerobic end of the spectrum, and as much a mental exercise as a physical one, is another run I like to do in most blocks: the “Sturdy Thirty.”

On March 22, I embarked on an adventure that would carry me 30 miles, over two-lane highways and gravel mountain roads, with 2,350 feet of climbing. I departed in a sideways-blowing blizzard and finished four-and-a-half hours later in short sleeves. A typical Montana spring morning.

Long runs are for teaching my body and mind how to function when tired. I don’t want to simply slog through. To that end, I structured the run as: 3mi warmup, alternate 1mi steady, 1mi easy for 24mi (beginning each effort phase with a 10-second stride), and then finishing with 8 x 20sec strides in the final miles.

See it on Strava. And yes, I left the title as “Morning Run.” Sue me (j/k plz do not).

Why run so far, so early in the season? As long as I’m recovering well, there’s a nice fitness boost. But, more importantly, when things get tough in long races this summer, I have evidence that I can do hard things. Plus, a neat “relativity” mindset shift happens. This past weekend, my wife asked how far my long run was and I replied, “Only 20.”

Questions? Drop ‘em in the comments and I’ll do my best to answer.

Until next time! 🤙

I hope these newsletters bring you value. Thanks for considering a paid subscription.