Coaches swear by them. Books extol their merits. The people who are into their recovery runs seem to be really, really into them. They talk about going a sexy pace and loving it. I, however, have not been one of those people.
In my last couple of training cycles, I ran how I felt like running, which usually ended up being a moderate, steady pace or a workout. Once I found some speed in my legs, I couldn’t help myself. I loved the challenge of getting faster. Every coach on the planet would yell, NO NO NO, terrible idea, but because I had always done relatively lower mileage training plans with two rest days, it seemed to work for me.
With my current training plan, there are sometimes 3 (or even 4, once the double run days started up) recommended recovery runs per week. Much of this plan is new to me, and I’ve tried to stick with the recommendations as much as possible. I expected to struggle with taking on my first doubles, or adding in 15 mile medium long runs in the middle of the week, or getting up to 70 miles. What I did not expect was to struggle so mightily with the recovery runs.
Given my current training load, it is clear that I need them. Yet I found myself dreading them. The plan recommended heart rate targets for these runs, and I could not get in the right zone. I’d have been walking. My gait felt off as I tried to slow it waaaaay down. I was looking at my watch so much I wasn’t as aware of my surroundings. The more my HR read too high, the more frustrated I got, and it was a terrible cycle.
Also, I pretty much never dread running. Not in the rain or snow. Give me all the days, and all the kind of runs! Except, apparently, recovery runs. After a couple of weeks of finding no joy in several runs per week, I felt like the negativity was bleeding into my life and other runs. It was time to find a way to make recovery runs work for me.
For the past several weeks, I’ve experimented with different approaches. Here’s what I found:
- The first big discovery was that I need to just go by effort and feel, and not worry about my heart rate. I just don’t want to have my face in my watch for an easy going run.
- For many of the recovery runs, I started taking my dog, Barnaby. He naturally runs at or maybe slightly above my typical recovery pace, plus a few extra stops for potty and sniff breaks. I enjoy having him with me and it keeps me from auto-piloting into a faster pace—a pretty good balance. Good lesson. When something needs improving, just add a dog for instant joy.
- Progression runs are one of my favorite workouts, and I realized I could do a recovery version, starting very slow, and only minimally increasing intensity. This gives me a slight challenge to work on without getting too fast. I may get to 15 or 20 second faster than my recovery pace in the final mile or two, but only after three quarters of the run has been in a solid recovery zone and I have decided the joy I find in a run like this is worth it.
- Yesterday, I tried something totally different. I listened to Gregorian chants while I ran and focused on my breath, kind of in the spirit of my recent experimentation with yoga cues. There was snow on the ground, a lovely companion to this practice. It felt like a moving meditation. Afterwards I was really relaxed. It was a totally different kind of run.
I love that there is always something to discover with this sport. Through this process, I have found an unexpected richness in recovery runs, and while they still aren’t my favorite run of the week, I no longer dread them. In those moments of struggle, I need to remind myself of this. Within any difficulty is an invitation to grow, to learn, to try something new.