By Mile 4, I knew I was done for.

The look of disappointment after the Jersey City Half

Less than halfway into the Jersey City Half and my breathing was noticeably heavy. Heart rate a little high. Effort a little too forceful.

I checked my watch to confirm what I feared. I was already falling behind.

I had visualized this moment and I had prepared. After the NYC Half just a few weeks earlier, I understood how cruel the voice in my head could be. I knew it couldn’t be trusted.

So I pressed on.

This would be my second and final attempt this cycle at a 76 minute half marathon (5:50 pace). A 2 minute PR.

By all accounts, this past Sunday should have been a fast race. Conditions hung in the mid-to-low 40s with plenty of cloud coverage and light wind. The course was flat. My mind was calm and my body felt fresh.

You can’t blame me then for being a little confused by the major discrepancy between pace and effort.

Maybe the legs just need some extra time to warm up.

I was confident in my fitness, so I made a deal with myself. I would hold onto race pace - even if a little aggressive - to give myself the opportunity at achieving my goal later on.

I typically recommend to my athletes to go by feel - and not pace - when things are going south. By listening to the body and backing off the pace, you’ll no doubt be able to hold on for longer.

But I wanted to go big or go home.

And go home I did. With a 1:20:02 (6:06 pace).

More than 60 seconds slower than the NYC Half, one of my worst (feeling) races to date.

I crossed the finish line pondering the same question I’d soon be asked by everyone else:

What happened!?

Team Great Day (minus Grace!) plus the cheer crew.

It wasn’t nutrition related. It wasn’t weather related. For the most part, I even felt good mentally and physically. My workouts leading up to this all indicated that a 5:50 pace was in the cards.

The problem was my legs just literally could not go any faster.

I have no excuses. But I do have a theory.

In the past calendar year, I’ve taken off only 6 total weeks from training. Two weeks after three major races— two marathons and one 50-mile ultra-marathon.

That’s usually the amount of time I take off from structured running after every single race.

This last buildup was 15 weeks long. Three weeks longer than I’d usually do for a marathon, let alone a half.

I talked it through with my sister, Mariah.

“You know when people do easy days too hard and hard days too easy? You must be experiencing something similar.”

She was right. My body is tired. It has been working so long and is so fatigued that it wasn’t able to perform at its highest intensity. My peak fitness for this cycle has passed. I simply had nothing left to give.

It's the double-edges sword of ambition.

Running is always better with friends, isn’t it?

Sometimes, it’s easier to give it your all than give it what it actually needs — a break.

I trained relentlessly through sub-freezing temperatures all winter long. I developed windburn across my face and chafing in places I won’t mention. I dragged myself onto the treadmill for double digit runs and turned down travel plans in order to focus. I still don’t have certain toenails after my ultra back in August.

All while visualizing a 1:16 at Jersey City.

To say I’m gutted is an understatement.

It’s been two years since I PR’d in a marathon or half marathon. I took one (ONE!) cycle off from training after my last marathon PR in Boston ‘23 and haven’t been able to catch up since.

Will I ever get faster? Am I willing to keep going? Do I even want to?

The questions swirl around in my head.

But the day wasn’t a total wash. I got to run with several friends (Team Great Day!) and athletes, all of whom PR’d.

Even with existential dread coursing through my veins, I was genuinely happy for all the success around me. And I’m grateful to have spent so much quality time with incredible friends.

Sunday wasn’t a waste - couldn’t have been - with that much love on the course.

It's all so bittersweet.

After we all collected our bags and posed for photos, my friend Grace pulled me to the side.

“I’m sorry. I know how badly you wanted this, and it sucks”.

The plastered on smile on my face faded away. I was trying so hard to protect my ego the best way I knew how, with forced positivity. By pushing the heartbreak down.

Grace was onto something I’m only now realizing.

I don’t need to fix things immediately. I don’t need to provide a perfect solution within minutes. I don’t need to dive back into training and push my body past its breaking point. I don’t need to tell this story with a veiled, inauthentic positive message.

I don’t need to be or do anything.

So much of being an athlete - and coach - is understanding your instincts. When they can help you and when they can hurt you. Unfortunately for me, it’s the latter at this point in time.

Running is supposed to be fun. I can honestly say it has been this cycle. The races, not so much.

I know exactly how I would advise a client if this were to happen to them. But I’m not there yet. I’m still processing all the data points.

What to do with this information is for Future Brian to decide. I trust him to make the right call, whatever that is.

For the time being, I’m going to sit here with this feeling. Let it take its course. Breathe.

Coach's Training Journal

I’m taking a break from sharing a “workout of the week” because, well, this cycle is over! The best part about even the worst of races like this is afterwards, you’re all done!

I still have the Boston 5k this weekend and the Big Sur Marathon the following. But I’m not training for either. We’re going to wing them both and have some fun.

So let’s consider this season officially done!