This week didn’t unfold the way it was written on paper—and honestly, that’s exactly why it matters.
Early in the week, I got in a short three-mile run (Monday or Tuesday—blurred together a bit). But after that, things started to unravel. Thursday and Friday were supposed to be manageable mileage days, and I didn’t get either run done. Fatigue was building, stress was high, and in hindsight, my body may have been fighting something off. Recovery just wasn’t there.
Saturday was supposed to be the seven-mile long run, but it shut down fast. About half a mile in, I developed significant cramping along the peroneal muscles around both ankles. I was overdressed, sweating, and didn’t feel right. Rather than push through pain and risk injury, I stopped and regrouped.
Sunday was decision day.
Houston—and much of the country—was dealing with extreme cold and potential ice. For here, it was brutally cold. I layered up with a thin long sleeve, fleece, beanie, gloves, and headed out anyway. The conditions were unforgiving. No matter which direction I ran, it felt like a headwind. The temperature hovered in the upper 20s, with a wind chill that made it feel closer to the teens.
The run started well enough. The first few miles were controlled, and I added a couple of out-and-back segments through the neighborhood. One uphill section hit hard, but I pushed through and kept moving. By mile five, everything changed. My legs felt empty. Completely gassed. I had taken a gel and water, but the fatigue was deep.
I actually pulled my phone out and considered calling home for a pickup—not just because I was spent, but because walking in that cold would have been miserable and risky. Then I saw a message from my wife telling me I was doing a great job. She was watching me on GPS. That moment mattered. I put the phone away and kept going.
Mile six was a fight. Mile seven wasn’t graceful, but it was forward. I ran past the house, turned around, and finished the final stretch. The last tenth of a mile was pure grit. I finished exactly seven miles, then walked home absolutely frozen.
The Numbers Behind the Struggle
- Distance: 7.00 miles
- Time: 1:36:12
- Average Pace: 13:44 / mile
- Best Pace: 12:17 / mile
- Average Heart Rate: 153 bpm
- Max Heart Rate: 164 bpm
- Cadence: 169 spm average
- Elevation Gain: ~79 feet
- Calories Burned: 1,037
Strava’s Athlete Intelligence actually told a different story than the one in my head:
This was my longest run in recent weeks, on a hillier route, with 96% of the run spent in harder effort zones (tempo and threshold). Despite the fatigue, the pace stayed remarkably consistent, only about 11 seconds per mile slower than my recent average. That’s not collapse—that’s endurance being built under stress.
Perspective
It would be easy to label this week a failure. I missed runs. The schedule slipped. The long run moved a day late. But the reality is this: I listened to my body, avoided injury, and still showed up when it counted. Progress isn’t always clean. Sometimes it’s just stubborn forward motion in bad conditions.
This coming week, the focus is simple:
- Better sleep
- Better hydration and fueling
- Consistent stretching
- Walking on non-run days to keep things moving
Next week’s long run moves up to eight miles, and I’m looking forward to it.
I didn’t fail this week. I kept going.
Brick by brick, this work continues toward the Rock CF Rivers Half Marathon in March.