13 Things Smart Runners Do

In the midst of the Heartbreak Hill Half, as I plodded up another hill and did my best to keep the wheels from falling off, I got to thinking that running three races in 26 hours may not have been the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

That, in turn, got me thinking about something else: What exactly do smart runners do?

In the hours and days after the race, I came up with a list. Revisiting it weeks later, I see that everything’s still relevant. So here’s my (unscientific, as usual) take on the 13 things that smart runners do.

Wear the right shoes. Finding running shoes is a bit of an exercise in trial and error. Don’t be afraid to run a few laps around the store to test out shoes. (Heck, a good running store won’t let you leave if you haven’t run around in them.) This is especially true if, say, you’re wearing lightweight or minimalist shoes for the first time. Finally, check your shoe size periodically.

Cross train. To butcher The Shining, all run and no cross-train make Brian a dull and potentially injury-prone boy. Too much running will wear out your joints, while failing to strengthen your core will leave vulnerable parts of your body that you don’t realize are important to running until they hurt with every step you take. Make time for cross training now and your body will thank you later.

Check the weather, but don't obsess over it. Certain workouts are worth postponing if it’s too hot, humid or cold. Eventually, though, you have to suck it up, stop making excuses and get out there. If it means running for distance instead of time, or taking a bit longer to (literally, in this case) warm up, so be it.

Fuel properly. This matters less during the race than you think. (If you’re running for less than two hours, you realistically don’t need to refuel during the race, though it usually can’t hurt.) It matters more the morning of the race, the night before and the days before, as you take in good carbs and lean proteins that you know for a fact won’t upset your stomach and leave you in the PortaPotty line five minutes before gun time.

Hydrate properly, too. This, on the other hand, does matter during the race. Don’t let weather fool you -- even on cool, calm days, you’re sweating up a storm. The water stops are there for a reason. Get some electrolytes while you’re there, too. Oh, and don’t forget to drink up the day before the race.

Wear sunscreen. Here’s where you should check the weather. If the sun peeks out of the clouds during mile 3 of your marathon, and you didn’t bother to slather on sunscreen because it was cloudy at gun time, you’ll be sorry. Always wear sunscreen if it’s already sunny, too. (My advice: Get the stuff for kids, since it has a high SPF and is formulated to withstand sweat.)

Wear a hat. I wear a hat in the summer to keep my head from burning. More importantly, I wear a hat in the spring, fall and winter to retain heat. (I occasionally look ridiculous wearing a hat and gloves with short sleeves and shorts. I don’t care.) The bulk of the body heat you lose escapes through the top of your head. Keep it in and you’ll stay warm. (My advice, again: Invest in a couple good hats that will keep you warm without overheating your head and wash them frequently so they don’t stink.)

Study the course map. You’ll race better if you know where to turn, where to get water, when to expect a hill and when to begin your finishing kick (provided you have any gas left).

Devise a smart race strategy. If you know a race has more hills in its second half, start slow. If water stops aren’t plentiful, consider bringing some water along. If you aren’t in the best shape, don’t get disappointed if you don’t PR. If the race is far away, give yourself plenty of time to get loose beforehand (i.e. don’t jump out of the car and dash to the starting line). Above all, make sure you know where and when you’re getting your post-race grub.

Know when to say when. A friend had been looking forward to the Heartbreak Hill Half for weeks, but she woke up with a migraine on race day and opted to sit it out. As much as it sucks to skip a race, sometimes it’s not worth pushing it.

Learn from failure as well as success. My positive race memories have, over time, managed to blur together. My bad trips, though -- clinging to a telephone in my first marathon, bonking in my worst marathon, fading fast during a 10-mile race in 100-degree heat -- remain firmly in my mind. It’s not that I’m a helpless pessimist but, rather, that I’ve learned lessons from these experiences and (so far) haven’t repeated my mistakes.

Put Band-Aids on your nipples. See above r/e not repeating past mistakes.

Respect the road. You share the road with fellow pedestrians, bicyclists, skateboarders, cars, SUVs and trucks. Pay attention to them all. When in doubt, stop -- it’s much better to add 15 seconds to your run than to get cursed out by a biker or hit by a car.

I could probably think of more, but I started writing this two months ago, so it’s time to call it quits. Anyone have anything to add?

Beating the Blah: 6 Ways to Conquer a Running Rut

There comes a point in every marathon training cycle when I stop, think and ask myself, “What the hell am I doing?” It usually happens when I reschedule key workouts because of weekend plans and/or insufficient sleep and find myself doing a long run on, say, a Tuesday morning two days behind schedule.

This time around, it happened this week. I’ve been doing pretty well, it turns out, hitting my pace goals in track work and exceeding them in my tempo runs. Running itself hadn’t worn me out. Everything else had -- the jobs, the yardwork, the ever-full summer social calendar. On Wednesday, collapsed in a heap on the couch, my wife turned to me and said, “You look half dead.”

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed for a tempo run. I extended the warmup by half a mile, figuring I’d need it. Then, a funny thing happened: I hit my pace goal for the first three miles. When I missed it for the fourth mile, I came back stronger for the fifth and sixth, finishing 10 and 18 seconds faster than my goal. One run undid a week malaise.

Running ruts aren’t uncommon. The constant pounding of the pavement takes a mental, physical and emotional toll. Proper training takes months; anything lasting that long inevitably provides highs and lows, and running is no exception. Plus, no matter how much we hate to admit it, running can be boring.

Conquering a rut -- “breaking the blah,” as I (cleverly) decided to call this post -- can happen in one of several ways. I highlighted having a kickass tempo run because that’s what just happened to me, but five other things will do the trick:

Cross-training. When I travel for business, I leave the running shoes at home and bring my bathing suit instead. I’m a terrible swimmer, mind you, but I enjoy it, so it gives me something to look forward to amid the long days, forced networking events and long nights that turn running into a chore. I return home recharged and ready to get back to running. If you’re in a rut, try biking, swimming or even walking.

Running “naked.” I run without a watch on my first few runs after marathon recovery. By not worrying about distance, pace or time, I enjoy myself more. If all the numbers associated with running leave you feeling overwhelmed, leave the watch at home for an easy run.

Resting. Never underestimate the value of a good nap. My test of whether I’m too tired: If I lie down and start to drift to sleep within 15 minutes, I skip the run. Yes, there’s value in running when you’re tired, as it prepares you for those final miles of the marathon, but there’s a difference between “a little tired” and “passing out on the couch tired.”

Racing. My ruts either fall smack dab in the middle of training or, conversely, when I’m not training for anything. With no goal in sight, I begin to wonder if it’s all worth it. Nothing changes my mind more quickly than signing up for a race. (Hint: To give yourself no choice but to commit, run with a friend or a team. Better yet -- volunteer to organize post-race brunch.)

Pausing. If nothing else works, maybe it is, in fact, time for a break. I’ve never reached this point, so unfortunately I can’t tell you how long your break should be or what you should do to pump yourself up in the meantime. But running pros take breaks, so there can’t be any harm in doing it.

We love running, and the last place we want to be is stuck in a moment that we can’t get out of. If you get yourself together, though, you won’t be able to lace up those shoes again.

Don't Be Afraid to Run Naked (At the Wrist, That Is)

At my day job, covering technology, there’s a lot of talk about fitness apps and fitness gadgets and wearable tech and, in the context of healthcare, the quantified self. (Full disclosure: I contributed to the hype by creating a list of tech for the athletes on your Christmas list. To further prove I am a sellout, I made it a slideshow, too.)

There’s definitely value in tracking all this data. When you’re training, you need to make sure you’re hitting the right pace and distance -- and, frankly, it’s much easier to log that information and study it later if it comes from a fancy watch or smartphone. (Full disclosure, again, which makes sense since I put "naked" in the headline: I track my runs using dailymile.)

However, there’s also a downside to having so much data. It’s easy to fret over, especially when targets are missed. It doesn’t take into account that, say, your tempo run in 22-degree weather on snow- and ice-covered sidewalks couldn’t possibly happen at goal pace (as has been the case so often this winter). It’s not just times, too; steps taken in a day, miles run in a month, weight lost (or gained) or other numbers can quickly become obsessions -- and the problem can be further exacerbated when all this information gets shared on social media sites.

I fully recognize the benefit to aggregating and sharing this information. If you've started, and especially if you've started as a means of motivation, there's no point in returning to the 20th century and "guessing" how far, fast and long you've run.

Every once in a while, though, it pays to unplug. On an easy day, the watch stays home. On the first few runs after my post-marathon rest, the watch stays home. On days when the weather's terrible, and pace goals go out the window, the watch stays home (or freezes). On a rushed race day, the watch (often accidentally) stays home.

Running unplugged offers a few benefits. It helps to run "by feel," without constantly staring at your watch. It prepares you for situations when your watch fails you. It lets you clear your head, since you're not focusing on every little detail of your run. It lets you enjoy the scenery. It lets you return to your roots, to the freedom of running around your backyard or park for hours as a child, and appreciate our sport even more.

It certainly isn't easy. Like any routine, running with a watch is a hard habit to break. But if you have an easy run in your future, it might be worth leaving the watch behind and just seeing what happens.

Who knows? It just might be the start of a new routine.

Autumn Running Is Awesome, So Make the Most of It

It's mid-October, which means New England is enjoying autumn: The pumpkin-flavored everything, the postseason baseball and the near-perfect running weather. It's chilly in the morning and evening, but you can still get away with wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and warm and sunny in the afternoon.

Autumn is my favorite season for running. Honestly, it's not even close. That awesome weather brings welcome relief after suffering through the summer. (Yes, other parts of the country are warmer, and more humid, but those parts of the country aren't full of people too stubborn to accept that sometimes it's just too damn hot to be outside.) The foliage makes for stunning scenery, too.

Autumn , it should be noted, differs from spring. Yes, spring starts cold and gets warmer, but the threat of a freak snowstorm looms over us until mid-April. (My mother tells a story of snow interrupting my brother's birthday party one May in the 70s.) The eventually melting snow begets mud, too, which is more widespread than you'd imagine because of all the sand used to keep roads and sidewalks free of snow. And New England spring realistically only lasts a few weeks; by Memorial Day, summer has arrived. (I've previously described why I dislike summer running, so I won't rehash it here.)

Autumn, on the other hand, provides a slow, gradual progression toward winter. This makes it easy to get acclimated to dropping temperatures -- first by enjoying them and then by dressing for them.

Here are a few ways to make the most of your autumn runs.

Especially if you're new to running, you can use the fall to see how your body reacts to cold temperatures. Try different layers, different hats and gloves, and different pants, and remember that, uncomfortable though it may be, you should be a little cold when your run starts.

Sign up for some races. October and early November are increasingly popular marathon dates, but the later weeks of November and December are filled with shorter race options. These races will serve several purposes: They'll give you goals to focus on, they'll keep you active as the holiday season commences, and, crucially, they'll lay the foundation for running through the winter.

If your races are in fact shorter, use the opportunity to cross train. Hit the bike, the gym, the indoor pool or the backyard. This will work different muscle groups, which in the long run will improve your running, and it will make things a bit more interesting. (You can even count yardwork as cross-training, provided your yard is big enough.)

Try to work out at different times. Because autumn weather is so cooperative, you can run at any time of day without fear of overheating at lunch or freezing in the morning or at night. Daylight Savings Time brings an earlier sunrise, too, so it's not quite as hard to drag yourself out of bed. Darkness does come earlier, yes, but the crisp fall air makes up for it. This also gives you a chance to see how well you acclimate to wearing a headlamp, vest and other reflective gear -- all of which are essential for safe nighttime running.

So there you have it. Get out there and enjoy the fall weather before winter comes -- though, as I will write in a couple months, winter running has its own advantages, too.

(Note: If you live in the Southern Hemisphere, please bookmark this and read it in six months.)

What It Takes to Beat Marathon Taper Madness

For many runners training for a marathon, the hardest part of training is actually the part that, on paper, should be the easiest: The taper. 

“Tapering” refers to the two- to three-week period between a final long run and race day. It’s a time to let your legs, your mind and your psyche rest after months of abuse. Put another way, it’s a time to heal, and stay healthy. before you hit the starting line. 

Why, then, do so many runners experience taper madness? 

For starters, it just feels weird. After running 40, 50 or 60-plus miles per week, we’re suddenly scaling back. We know, understand and readily accept why we’re doing it, but that doesn’t mean we like it. 

In addition, with less time to focus on training, our minds start to wander. Millions of things could potentially derail a two-mile jog around the neighborhood. Run 26.2 miles and you’re talking trillions of possibilities: Dehydration, pulled muscles, bloody nipples, wrong turns and a shortage of bagels and peanut butter at the finish line. It's even worse if you're running your first big race.

Finally, there’s the anticipation. Months of training, dedication and focus all hinge on an experience that will last anywhere from a little more than five hours to less than three hours. It’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself during the final countdown to race day. 

Conquering taper madness isn’t easy. That said, I’ve actually been pretty blase over the last three weeks. Going to two conferences for the day job, picking up extra shifts at the night job, and attending a wedding and engagement party in one evening have luckily kept my mind well occupied. (Plus, as I’ve noted a few times by now, I bonked horribly in my last marathon and know that I’ve done just about everything I can to make sure I don’t do it again.) 

Maintaining your sanity during a marathon training taper ultimately comes down to a few key steps: 

Keep yourself busy. Go to that movie, museum exhibit or show you’ve been meaning to see. Catch up on your DVR. Call your mother. Do some yardwork. 

Stay healthy. Retain the good eating habits that powered you through marathon training. Sleep. Avoid alcohol. (Unless you have a wedding and engagement party in the same night. In that case, celebrate, but drink lots of water and take some ibuprofen / aspirin before bed.) Don’t do dumb things that could result in bodily harm.

Trust your training. You made it, right? And even if you didn’t, you can’t go back in time. What’s done is done. 

Don’t overthink your outfit. Just pretend you’re packing running clothes for a few days and you’ll be fine. Seriously, though: Pack the clothes you like the most. Don’t worry about getting all matchy-matchy -- your clothes will be so absolutely disgusting by mile 15 that no one will notice if the trim on your shirt matches your shoes. 

Check the weather and, if necessary, adjust your goal. Remember, you’re most likely to achieve your goal when it’s 60 degrees, overcast and calm. Even the slightest hint of inclement weather will adversely affect your time. If you know this going in, you can adjust your pace accordingly and reduce the likelihood of both bonking and disappointing yourself. Aside from my PR race, I’m most proud of the marathon I ran in the snow -- I knew my pace would be off, so I dialed back and ended up coming as close to a negative split as I ever have.

It’s easy to drive yourself crazy during a taper, but it’s also easy to shift a bit of focus away from your marathon and back to the things you had to give up when your training was at its worst. You can’t forget the big race altogether -- nor should you -- but you can make sure it doesn’t take over your life.

13 Tips For Your First Road Race

A colleague recently asked a couple folks on Twitter for some advice about preparing for his first 5K. I suggested that he not think too much about it. 

As it turns out, there is a lot to think about before your first road race. After all, it’s your indoctrination into the Cult of Running, and it’s human nature to not want to be That Guy, whether you’re standing in the wrong spot, wearing the wrong shirt or hitting the wall less than a mile into the race. 

To avoid embarrassment, real or otherwise, here’s a few things you should do. 

Stick to what you know. Now’s not the time to try something new. Wear clothes, including shoes and socks, that are comfortable and familiar to you. If you eat, make it the same light breakfast you usually have. (If you’re a bacon-and-eggs type, save that for post-race brunch.) If you drink anything, make it water or your sports beverage of choice. Coffee is OK in limited quantities. Don’t drink a ton, though, unless, you know, you like waiting in line for Port-a-Pottys. 

Plan, plan and plan some more. Give yourself plenty of time to get to the starting line. Research your parking options and try to find a spot convenient to bib pickup, the starting line and the finish line.(If you’re lucky, all three are in the same spot.) Plug the race address into your phone and review the directions the night before, as you may wake up so early that you're incapable of rational thought. 

Leave early. I like to leave my house such that I’ll arrive an hour before a race, perhaps earlier if it’s a long race, a race I’ve never done before or a race where I expect a lot of traffic. If I’m early, I’ll just sit in the car and kick out the jams for a bit. 

That said, stay loose. You don’t need to jog for half an hour, but you shouldn’t sit in your car until two minutes before the gun goes off. Walk around a bit. Take a swig or two of water. Do some dynamic stretches, such as squats or lunges, to get your blood flowing. (This has the added effect of psyching people out.) Don’t head to the starting line until it’s about 10-15 minutes before gun time. 

On the line, breathe. There will be a lot going on. People pose for pictures. People look for friends. People violate your personal space. People pose for more pictures. Do your best to ignore it all. 

Don't stand up front. Unless you plan to win, you wore the greatest costume ever or you personally know the race director, you can stand back with the hoi polloi. Larger races will use corrals that put faster runners up front and increasingly slower runners further back. Look for signs that mention a specific pace per mile, find the corral that best fits your pace and make some friends. 

Don't take off like a bat outta hell. It's hard to avoid starting too fast. I've been running for 18 years and I still do it myself. About 95 percent of the time, I regret it. You will, too. Keep breathing, stick with the pack around you (you made friends, right?) and remember that the thundering herd will quickly thin out. 

Push yourself, but not too hard. I know, it’s like saying, “Take your time, but hurry up.” Presumably, you signed up for this race in part to see what you’re made of. You should be going faster than you did on your training runs. Don’t hold back, and you’ll surprise yourself. That said, it’s your first race, so be careful. At any sign of non-routine discomfort (that is, anything that’s not the usual soreness or tightness that all runners feel), dial it back a bit. 

Don’t worry about hydration. Unless it’s obscenely hot out, you’re probably not going to need to drink water during the course of a 5K. If you do, one little cup will suffice. (Obviously, this will be different for longer races, but for now you’ll be fine.) Anything more and it’s gonna slosh around in your stomach. 

Enjoy yourself. Odds are you’ve never had people cheering you on. Soak it all in. Use that to push you if you start getting tired, sore or cranky. Once you cross the finish line, make the most of the post-race festivities (especially the food). Rehydrate. Find the friends you made, or the friends you already have, and cheer them on as they cross the line. Make plans to run together again. 

Stretch. You don’t have to do this at the race itself -- though if you’re feeling tight, you probably should. But at some point during the day, take a few minutes to stretch. Remember, you’ve never run this fast, so you owe it to your legs to treat them right. (You’ll probably want to stretch the day after the race as well.) 

Treat yourself, albeit within reason. I usually grab coffee and breakfast on the way home. You should, too. And it’s more fun with friends. If it’s the right time of year, you could always get ice cream. 

Oh, one final thing: The race T-shirt is like the concert T-shirt. Don’t wear the race T-shirt during the race itself. Amateur. But if you need to change after the race, the race T-shirt is acceptable. Plus, it’s a silent way of explaining to the folks in the coffee shop why you smell so bad.

Why I Never Run With Headphones

Every year, my hometown hosts a 2-mile race on the Fourth of July. It’s a great way to kick off the day’s festivities, which also include a parade and a bunch of booths on the Town Common sponsored by local organizations and offering games, the work of local arts and lots and lots of food. 

The race itself is a bit of a zoo. The logistics are great, the spectators are great (the last mile and a half follows the parade path, where folks often set up their lawn chairs and blankets long before dawn) but the field is crowded, and every year there are more and more little kids sprinting like bats released from hell at the start, only to die about 400 meters into the race, that I legitimately fear some sort of trampling incident. 

I’ve run the John Carson Road Race more than any other -- several times as one of those annoying kids, every year of high school and a few years after that -- and definitely have plenty of fond memories. Chief among them is sprinting to the finish alongside a former assistant high school coach a few years ago. We gave each other plenty of crap over the years, both of us taking it as easily as we dished it out, and I was glad to see that he was still getting after it. 

I haven’t done the race in a few years. For starters, I don’t go home very often. In addition, I seem to get slower every year, while the field remains just as fast, with the latest crop of sub-11-minute high schoolers darting out after the gun, never looking back and leaving old men like me in the dust. (Note: I know many of you reading this are probably older than I am. You know what I mean.) 

That said, this race means a lot to me. It’s the reason I never run with headphones.  

John Carson, in this case, wasn’t a late-night TV host. He was a promising high school runner in the 1980s. According to lore, my town was full of such runners back then, regularly winning conference and state championships. My teams tried to replicate that success, with mixed results. (No thanks to me. I was seventh man on the cross country team on a good day.) 

One day, John went running along a set of train tracks while wearing a Walkman. He didn’t hear a train coming. The first paramedic on the scene was his coach -- and, later, my coach. (Not the one I bumped into a few years ago.) He was the last one to see John alive. 

I’m rarely tempted to run with music. I usually use the time to think -- sometimes about my run, but mostly about other stuff. Whenever I’m tempted, I think about John Carson. Sure, I’m a safe runner -- I stick to sidewalks and crosswalks whenever I can, I wear reflective gear at night and my shoes are obnoxiously bright -- but I’m also easily distracted and refuse to risk something awful just so I can listen to some tunes.  

Many in my hometown call it the Fourth of July race. They’re not necessarily wrong. But to me, it’ll always be the John Carson Road Race. And I will never forget why.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Runs

The more you run, the more you find yourself covering familiar territory, both figuratively (in your triumphs and tragedies, so to speak) and literally (in running the same distance many, many times). When you're in the 'burbs, and the streets are fewer and farther between, it's even harder to add variety.

Some people get bored running the same roads over and over, but I find it helpful. I can use landmarks to easily identify mile markers, and, more importantly, I can just put on my shoes and head out the door without thinking about it too much. (This is especially true when I run at night - it means I know the sidewalks well and can point my headlamp at oncoming traffic instead.)

These are the routes I run most often:

3.1 miles. Since this is arguably the most popular race distance, it makes sense to have a 5K route around your neighborhood. Whether you're a beginner or a veteran, you'll need to get used to this distance. One tip: Run it forward one day and backward the next to avoid injury and boredom.

5 miles. This is another popular race distance. It's also a good test of how well you're progressing beyond the 5K. When you start speed work, this will make for a good fartlek or a quick tempo distance, too.

7-8 miles. I have a 7.6-mile route that I do often. This distance stands at the edge of my fatigue threshold, meaning it's as far as I can run on an empty stomach. Anything more and I need some pre-run fuel. It's a good "test" for me, to see how well training has progressed.

10 miles. This distance isn't for everyone. It may take others quite some time to get here. But there's definitely something to be said for hitting double-digit mileage. The sense of accomplishment never dissipates. Just don't make this an out-and-back route that passes several pizza places in a five-mile span. You'll just get hungry. Trust me. Seriously.

(I don't have routine routes for longer runs. One reason is that I've realized my old reliable routes aren't terribly safe -- they lack shoulders and streetlights, neither of which are conducive to safe nighttime running. Another is the fact that I tend to overanalyze my runs; by mapping them out the day that I do them, I avoid this problem.)

It helps to have short loops you can add to these familiar routes. By hitting side streets, I can add 0.4 or 0.6 miles to my first two routes and another full mile to the last two. This works well if I need an extended warmup or cool down or want to make an easy run a bit longer. It also breaks up the monotony. 

What are the ol' standby running routes and distances that you use? How do you keep them from getting boring?

How You Run Matters More Than Why You Run

Anyone who's been running long enough will be confronted by a one-word question from the curious skeptic: "Why?"

My answers usually vary depending on my mood, but the best answer, I feel, is "Why not?" I'm not necessarily trying to be abrupt or dismissive. Frankly, the real answer is long, complicated and much more than the questioner bargained for. 

Besides, the more far interesting (and valuable) question is "How?" As in, "How have you managed to keep doing something so boring for so long?" 

I think about this from time to time. It's equally natural and sensible to do so; running without self-assessment can be counterproductive, if not harmful. Besides, as your "why" for running shifts -- in my case, from "don’t be laughingstock of cross country team" to "avoid the freshman 15" to "maintain my sanity" to "find the fountain of youth" -- your "how" has to change, too. 

Here's how I keep myself motivated these days. 

Set goals. Of course, there are ambitious race goals -- PR at a certain distance, conquer a new distance, run in a kilt while maintaining a shred of dignity, and so on. I try to set a goal for every run I do, though. It’s easy for workouts -- complete your tempo at this pace, do this many fartleks, run this many miles in your long run without collapsing -- but it’s much tougher for the random runs. 

I recommend setting a goal that has little to do with distance, time or pace. Run past that bakery downtown and see if it’s open on Sundays. Break in new running gear. Try a new route for the first time. (I don’t like to do workout-y runs on brand-new routes, so this works quite well.) Setting a goal like this also has the added bonus of ensuring that you don’t think too much about your run. 

Connect. I run alone. It’s my catharsis. But I’m not isolated. This blog is an obvious example of how I connect, as are the outlets I use to share it (Twitter and Google Plus). Joining a running club can certainly help, though here I’m a hypocrite, as I have put this off for years now. 

Log your progress. For years, I did this in a monthly planner than my dad got from his bank as a free gift. (And by "got" I mean "took off the counter," but that's neither here nor there.) This year, as I’ve mentioned, I started using dailymile, which has the added bonus of connecting me with other athletes as well. While overall mileage is important, it's also good to log your pace and how you were feeling. Pace matters for speed workouts, but it's also worth logging for other runs, especially since, as you improve, your "slow" runs are going to get faster. How you feel, meanwhile, will, over time, help you pinpoint things such as weather, fuel or time of day that are throwing your runs off the rails. 

Learn from failure. We all have bad runs, whether they’re workouts, races or otherwise innocent Tuesday evening jogs around the neighborhood that result in a twisted ankle, tree branch to the face or off-color remark from some moron passing by. I detailed this in the tale of my worst marathon ever, but the point bears repeating: Learn from your mistakes, then set them free. Dwelling on past failures only dooms you to repeat them. 

Get back to "Why?" For some, it's a near and dear charitable cause. For others, it's a weight loss goal. For others still, it's a new distance or new PR. For me -- and for some of you, I suppose -- it's because running is so ingrained in your psyche that it’ll never go away. 

"Why?" is an important question, it turns out, and for many runners it might be the largest motivating factor of all. But letting "Why?" supersede "How?" in importance is a bit shortsighted. The former is existential, but the latter is pragmatic. The former is sunshine, rainbows and hugs; the latter is a long run interrupted by a storm, a tempo run on insufficient sleep and a race in scorching heat. "Why?" will get you out the door. "How?" will get you to the finish line -- and beyond.

Runners, Don't Be Your Own Worst Enemy

Per Yogi Berra, ninety percent of baseball is half mental. Baseball has nothing on running, though.

There are roughly 123 million things that can ruin your run. Nearly all exist solely in your head, meaning they only crop up because you have all kinds of time to let your mind wander.

• There's doubt, first and foremost, and its close friend, fear.
• There are nagging pains that you can easily convince yourself are going to manifest as horrific injuries.
• There are rude, clueless and preoccupied drivers, bicyclists and pedestrians who, though indeed present, are best ignored.
• There's the weather, which is at any one time too hot, too cold, too sunny, too overcast, too rainy, too windy, too humid, too dry, too foggy or even too perfect.
• There's fuel strategy, which can leave you too hungry, stuffed, dehydrated, with a sloshy stomach or in desperate need of a bathroom.
• There are shoes, which can be too tight, too loose, too light, too heavy, too old, too new or, if it's raining, too wet.
• There's your watch, which can taunt you for falling behind your pace or convince you that, since you're ahead of your intended pace, something catastrophic is around the next corner.

Put another way, it's all too easy, as a runner, to be your own worst enemy.

For most of us, one factor among the many listed above (or one I omitted) tends to wreak the most havoc. For me, it's the fear that slightly missing my target pace will all too quickly force the wheels to fall off completely.

This happened yesterday on my final longish (7.6-mile) run before my half marathon. I was aiming for a 7-minute pace, which would have had me finish in about 53 minutes. Three miles in, I was under 21 minutes, yet I was convinced that it was only a matter of time before I started falling apart.

Why? I have no freakin' clue. I wasn't feeling 100 percent -- but, then again, who actually does on a run? It was warmer than it has been, so my mouth dried up more quickly than usual. I'm fairly certain my left shoe wasn't as tight as my right shoe. And on and on.

So what happened? I finished in 51:02, close to two minutes faster than I'd planned and with a 6:42 pace. All that worrying for nothing.

Time and again, we're our own worst enemy when we run. When things start to go poorly, we expect the worst. When things go well, we still expect the worst.

It doesn't have to be this way. Part of the beauty of running -- a fundamental reason that I've been doing it for more than 17 years -- is the way it so easily and quickly helps you shed stress, responsibility and worry, putting a frenetic life on hold for as long as you'd like.

Shutting off an active mind is hardly easy, but the sooner you learn to do that, the sooner you stop being your own worst enemy and the sooner you start running free, fresh and, before you know it, fast.

So how do you achieve that peaceful, easy feeling?

One way is counting -- breaths, steps, passing cars, squirrels or whatever you want to focus on. Another is to contemplate your post-run meal; this has gotten me through many a long run. Turning off the watch is another option, though it obviously won't make sense for certain workouts.

The best strategy for me, though, is to try not to think about what I'm doing. On Monday, I ran better when I stopped looking at my watch, trying to gauge how far I'd run (my watch predates the GPS) and thinking about whether my left quad was starting to tighten up. When I looked ahead, put one foot in front of the other and just ran, I felt better -- and I ran better.

My strategy admittedly isn't one size fits all. It may take months, if not years, to find your proverbial happy place, and you may stumble along the way -- literally, if you try trail running, or figuratively, if you try new approaches and they just don't work. You'll likely succeed in a series of small victories, too, rather than in a single seminal moment that redefines life, the universe and everything. (Hint: It's 42.)

But just like you'll never finish a race if you don't start, you'll never know how to get to your happy place if you don't try.