How I learned to love the track
Consistency, camaraderie and cultivating a habit
A lot of things have happened in 2024. The final six months alone felt like a decade, with assassinations (and attempts), coups, war, bottomless AI slop, accelerating enshittification, economic woes et cetera. If you would like to read about these, scroll to the bottom of this post - better writers than me have already covered these well.
The next two thousand words will be about running around in circles.
Baby steps
I still remember the chilly eve of the 5th of March as I laced my shoes up to go to the London Marathon Community Track. I had just moved to London with one of my explicit goals having been to join Your Friendly Runners, a run club local to Hackney. I flat-hunted with the explicit aim to be close to the club’s many meeting points, and I even signed up for the group's £39 a month subscription, getting myself a T-shirt, a water bottle and a QR code in the mail to join the exclusive WhatsApp group, along with a promise of four free track sessions a month and training plans. If I had a financial commitment, a social accountability mechanism, I figured I would not be able to meander and miss out on interval sessions.
I was told not to run on the first night. I had just run a personal best at the Cambridge Half Marathon - 1:45:30, improving a solid twelve minutes compared to 2023, and my legs were cooked. I sat on the bleachers, clutched my prized water bottle and watched people run around under the floodlights. I desperately wanted to join them despite my legs screaming no.
2024 was the second year of being a regular, year-round runner. As I wrote here, running in 2023 drove me out of a mental health nadir. It gave me a goal to strive for, a habit to build, and a feeling of success each time I finished a loop around South Cambridgeshire. I trained and built fitness, I ran more and more, I started really enjoying it all again. But I could only run so much by myself, and I saw YFR on my Instagram pop up - mostly through founder Oli Hooson's lens - and I thought about how cool that looked.
Collective struggling, as much as collective celebration, is an immensely strong social glue. It's why hazing is such a key aspect of fraternities, though there is some evidence that it actually lessens team cohesion in sports. It is nevertheless a collective experience and initiation ceremonies elsewhere remain prevalent. It's a reference point, one that we all members of a community can think back and relate to. We all start somewhere. One of the coaches, Lloyd Kempson, said something pertinent to this point on the last Trackstaa podcast of the year: the first year is the worst.
I had always strayed away from these ceremonies: a deep-seated fear of being shamed or laughed at for not being good enough harks back to memories of childhood bullying. Over time, my excuses grew more sophisticated-sounding: I don't do well in masculine spaces, or I can't do group sports. That was more pre-emptive than real: I did not want to feel like that ostracised eight-year-old again. In esports, the pendulum swung far too hard the other way: my skill - at least compared to my peers' - put me in a solid position in terms of group standing, but I wanted to win so badly that I made those who were worse than me feel bad for not having poured thousands of hours into clicking their mouse. I wanted to control everything I could so much that I was insufferable to be on a team with: if you didn't play the right way, I would inevitably shout or be upset, whereas I always had excuses to back up my poor play. This was a really shitty behaviour pattern.
But running was different. I had done group interval sessions before but I was often the worst or second-to-worst in our relatively small group, and being dropped means less pressure to do it at a decent pace, plus I had an awful feeling of remorse - that if only I had started earlier, I would be better. Unshakeable, persistent inferiority complex, but small signs of improvement. Some interval sessions work on different aspects of running than others, so having pre-made ones by professional coaches meant that I could forget about planning - for the most part - and focus on finishing what they set out for us.
March 12 came, and I put my shoes on and went to the track. That session was 6-8 repeats of 3 minutes at 10km-half marathon pace, with 75 seconds of jog/walk recoveries. I would later learn that this was called threshold pace - more on this later. Looking at my heart rate data now, I was between 180 and 195 for all of the reps. That was not threshold. That was a mistake. It was also a personal best in the five-kilometre distance. But I just wanted to fit in, and I had just come off of a week of recovery post-Cambridge Half. I also just wanted not to be pointed and laughed at. It was a gruelling session. I felt tired, I was sweating, but I felt accomplished. Looking around, many felt the same thing. Smiles were exchanged, as well as short introductions.
A week later, I joined the group to Slice Club - a pub/pizza place where we would all go to chat after the sessions. I thought I would make and impression and went to chat with people who seemed to know their stuff. Michael and Martin were welcoming and really, really good runners. I said hi and tried to make some small talk, which went okay - as well as it could when a random new guy, at least ten years their junior, tries to squeeze into a well-oiled friendship. I learnt that Martin was Swedish, and Michael tested my knowledge of geography and cultures. They are both great people to train with and huge sources of inspiration.
The weeks kept passing, and Tuesdays would always be about the track. Consistency was key. Sure, in the beginning, there were some weeks when I felt shaky, and did not want to go. Excuses like being tired, under-fuelled, having other commitments were quickly dwarfed by wanting to get better. And being surrounded by others who also wanted to get better, it was a strong pull, not to mention the money I would throwing out the window by not going.
The third week was a session in the rain. We were drenched. The track was slippery. We were all mindful of each other and got through it. By week 4, I got a better GPS tracker. April came around and we started not needing the floodlights as much. The reps and distances started changing. It was getting warmer and lighter. It became less of a decision to go each Tuesday, and more of a routine.
Drop the ego
But the feeling remained constant. The bouncy, rubber-polyurethane surface, the sound of a hundred feet thumping, the predictable, oval shape. The similarly predictable premature sprinters at the beginning of sessions - I was one of them. The slow wait for the whistle. Short chats. Do you have any races coming up? Names, jobs, histories exchanged. Fist-bumps, hugs, smiles, all exhausted at the end. The ever-encouraging coaches, Lloyd, Shane and Maddy. Sometimes someone with a camera or a puppy. Slowly recognising similar faces, learning names. Clapping for the new joiners, every week. Activating the glutes, stretches, strides and then thirty-to-forty minutes of hard work.
Lloyd says that one of the tenets of his coaching is “dropping the ego at the door”. Nowhere near is this truer than at the track. I tried telling him my running story at one of the first Slice Club nights. Amazing stuff, mate. Write a book. The message was clear: the point was that we are all improving at our own pace. If they don't ask for your story, don't tell it.
Tuesdays, no matter the weather, or whatever plans I had the following day: 18:30 sharp, 18:40 kick-off, 19:30 Slice Club. I started seeing improvements: my physique slowly changed, my running economy improved drastically. A 5K time trial came around in May, and I ran 20:57. I was devastated: I thought I could do sub-20. I cheered for those who did reach their goals, and I wanted to work harder, get better and be faster. I got new shoes, but they were a size too small and almost destroyed my feet.
The summer sessions were hot and tough, and the coaches changed the focus too: we started doing sessions at 5k, 3k and mile pace. One time, there was an olympian shot-putter on the track! In August, Runner's World came down to photograph us: this was one of the only sessions I missed. I overtook Michael once - he laps me five to six times per session to this day, but we exchange fist-bumps before and after sessions. At some point, I managed to do each interval at sub-4 minute kilometres which felt surreal. Lloyd talks often about how running on the track is realising that there are more gears to our running and this started really hitting me. There was nothing stopping me from running faster. Just run 'ard, he said one Tuesday evening when I quizzed him about approaches. This turned out to be good advice: every other session during the week was about heart rate zones - the track was a great spot to let go of the reins at this point.
My post-track dinners changed with the seasons: in the summer, I'd get home and down a cup of strawberry milk (thanks, James from Nutrition Triathlon) and follow it with fat-free greek yogurt, granola and fruit. In the colder autumn months, I started having burgers and steaks instead: awful choice for the subsequent night's sleep, but a delicious way to replenish iron and protein. I also stopped doing morning runs on Wednesdays: I just felt exhausted and slow for each one of them, opting instead to do strength sessions.
Switching gears
From September, I re-structured my training: I'd swim Monday AM, then came almost thirty-six hours of rest until track on Tuesday PM, twelve hours of rest until the strength session Wednesday AM, threshold run Thursday AM, threshold bike ride Friday AM, zone 2 long run Saturday AM, zone 1/2 long ride Sunday AM. I found this to be sustainable and effective at preventing both injuries and having any sort of a social life. Sometimes, I'd switch up my bike rides with going on the elliptical if the weather was too bad or my bike changed owners, and every three weeks, I'd take a rest week, which would mean turning the threshold run into an easy one and cutting the long run shorter than usual. I would also sometimes have brick sessions: a run after a bike. In October, I ran a 19:57 5K after a bike ride and I was elated. It was tough and my soles were burning by the end but it felt great. I'm sorry for anyone in Vicky Park who had to see my celebratory dance.
A key question about track was fuelling before it: before the 20:57 5K in May, I was at a work event with a catered lunch. Who would have thought that having a fatty, heavy brownie was a bad way to fuel? I now tend to focus on easy carbs for my Monday dinner and Tuesday breakfasts: I even started cutting peanut butter from my peanut-butter-jam sandwiches. Track starts at 18:30, so the last piece of food is down by 14:30, and I finish with coffee by 15:00. I sometimes have a banana at 16:00 if I'm really hungry because it's fairly easy to process and is quite calorific, but the goal is to feel light but well-fuelled by 18:30. The burgers afterwards take care of the rest.
The sessions changed again in the autumn, shifting in focus from the faster paces (mile/3K/5K) to threshold. In running and cycling, "threshold" refers to a pace or effort level just below the intensity at which your body starts to produce lactic acid faster than it can clear it. This point is often called the lactate threshold or anaerobic threshold. Training at or around this threshold intensity improves endurance by increasing the body's ability to tolerate and clear lactic acid, allowing athletes to sustain faster paces for longer periods. Typically, threshold efforts are moderately hard and can be maintained for 20 to 60 minutes.
There are two ways to target threshold: by letting your watch approximate the 'threshold pace', or by targeting heart-rate. I still oscillate between the two, but I am starting to think that targeting heart-rate versus pace is better, because no algorithm in itself will be perfect at predicting bodily functions and I can't afford to be lab-tested just yet. Lloyd and Shane say that threshold is a pace between 10K and half marathon pace, which I have found to be pretty accurate. I have also found it to be incredibly helpful to find others on similar fitness levels to myself and holding onto them.
On the track, there are no distractions: it's just hard work, together, feet stomping, deep breaths and the coaches cheering on. I think my inner child who never got PE teachers' attention lives for this last one. There's one small speaker but that doesn't fill the entire space. Running on the track is predictable but repetitive. But that's exactly what I love about it: it's mastering technique, focusing on arms, posture and breathing. Saturdays and Sundays are more about exploring and having fun.
December came around and we finished the year with a 25-minute time trial. I wanted to get a 5K PB, but also did not want to crash out: the strategy was to run the first twenty minutes at what I thought was possible - sub 3:50/km - and not crash out immediately after the fifth buzz on my watch, but allow myself to let go slightly. I started out with others running at 4:00/km, but felt like I could go harder, so I started to accelerate. I ran the first two minutes at 3:30/km, slowed to 3:46/km for another minute, then going back up to 3:40/km. I settled around this pace for the remainder of the 20-minute block, allowing myself to slow to 3:50-4:00/km for the 5-minute finisher. It was tough but again, sustainable. I PB'd my 5K at 18:35 and finished the entire time trial with 6.63km. A great way to finish the year, but it felt odd not to be on the track on Christmas eve just a week later, or on New Year's Eve.
I've never run cross country or any sort of athletics at school or university, bar triathlon in my final year. I still don't really get what track spikes are for. I have no associations with any of the names mentioned in cross country circles, aside from Alex Yee - and that’s because of what he did at the Olympics. I'm not sure I could do anything decent on a distance like 400, 800 or 1500, but that's not the point. Thanks to the past nine months, I feel confident and happy going to the track on Tuesdays. I love every moment of it: seeing the same faces, the same coaches, and I love the floodlights as much as I love the sunsets painting us all golden.
Things I’ve been consuming
Democrats lost the propaganda war
Patent monopolies and economic inefficiences: what does economics say about killing healthcare CEOs?
Ed Zitron: Never forgive them. Your usual feature from Ed about the unsustainably awful nature of the modern internet and modern tech companies. Well worth a read.
A good piece on the finding a sustainable/profitable AI business model.
The Divorce Tapes. CW/TW: mentions of SA. This is a gut-wrenching story about how a daughter found out the truth about what her sister had gone through, and how their mother and relatives thought about it.
The crisis of carry-on luggage on American flights. To paraphrase Phil Schiller - can’t innovate my ass! European LCCs have figured this out long ago: strict carry-on limits. Maybe a light guillotine on Transavia France and French bee-operated flights.
I will fucking piledrive you if you mention AI again. A great perspective on AI from last summer and an entertaining read.
Embracing the winter mindset. I wrote previously about defeating seasonal affective disorder but this article brings a very holistic perspective to it, based on a book from an author who moved to Tromsø, Norway, where the sun does not rise above the horizon for two months. Some great take-aways!
These Times: Reflection on 2024 from geopolitical and British perspectives. Both episodes highly recommended.
Waveform: The rise and fall of boosted board. This is a re-release of an episode from 2022, but a fascinating story.
Acquired: IKEA, Mars, Starbucks, Hermès… I could go on. The chemistry between the hosts of Acquired is amazing - and their long-form episodes are perfect for bike rides or runs. Fascinating stories behind some of the biggest companies in the world.
Jet Lag: The Game: the latest season of my favourite travel game show, this time in Japan. It’s a really good season so far. Go Ben!
Arthur Teboul & Baptiste Trotignon’s Piano Voix Plus. A beautiful album.