Download Your Training Plan race—but especially when I’m vying for a faster finish time—I feel a twinge of anxiety pop up, whispering worries in my ear that something might go wrong. For example, I’ll miss my goal and all the hard work of training will have been for nothing. Or I’ll end up slogging through the miles and regretting every step. Or worse, I’ll find myself injured and sidelined.
These storylines have an even more negative tone when I’m on the starting line of a 5K, compared to longer distances up to a half marathon. As I try to accept the fact that I’m going to feel uncomfortable (really uncomfortable!) for a solid 20-plus minutes, my mind tells me the pace will feel impossible to hold. And I won’t be able to slow down lest I give up on my goal.
The Run/Walk Method fast pace right from the start—no progressing into it—if I want to get done in record time. Every second counts in a short race, unlike a half marathon, in which I can settle into a comfortably hard effort and ease into the discomfort. I pretty much dread the feeling of sustaining a nearly sprint speed, and because of that, even before I’ve started moving, I’ve told myself how much I’m not Whats a Good 5K Time.
The plot tends to thicken when I’m in the middle of the run, as I question my moves: Can I really hold this pace? If I slow down, will I miss my goal? Why did I even set this goal or sign up for this race? How do I make the time go faster but my body feel better?
That’s the tricky thing about the mind: It can create a whole narrative about what might happen in the future, bringing you right out of the present where the atmosphere is light, lively, and full of potential.
When talking to Mike Gross, PsyD, head of sport psychology services at Princeton University and founder and director of TriState SportPsych, he mentions that the stories we tell ourselves about racing—like on the starting line of a 5K—likely come from previous experience with the distance and feeling the need to stack up to peers in terms of speed.
When it comes to a 5K, I tend to taunt myself with the reminder that I need to chase a mistakes with my mental dialogue, both on the starting line and throughout the race: I’m trying to combat my discomfort and talk myself out of it, which can actually make me feel worse. “We try to resolve discomfort or make it better by the process of thinking. But all we’re really doing is creating cognitive fatigue,” explains Gross, who is also a Runner’s World advisory board member. Research shows mental fatigue contributes to physical fatigue, Why Your Face Gets Red While Running.
K Treadmill Training Plan to Help You PR stride, my sweat, and my surroundings, Gross says. He also suggests giving the pain and fatigue a one-word description (tenderness, soreness, etc.) without trying to make it go away—just leaning into it.
“We never have pain and fatigue in isolation. We have pain and we have the story about the pain,” Gross explains. That’s why mindfulness is one of the go-to methods for treating pain—you can’t ruminate on it; you just have to sit in the present with it.
Those questions I ask myself in the middle of a race basically show the story I’m telling about pain. Even if I likely can hold onto a 5K race pace, I’m expecting myself to die out. If I were to stay more present and really pay attention to what I’m feeling in my lungs and legs, I might realize I’m not as uncomfortable as I think, and that I can not only hit my speed goals, but also enjoy the process of doing so.
“The more willing you are while running to allow yourself to be with the pain, and be less caught up in the narrative of the pain, the more you’ll be able to tolerate it,” Gross says, adding that success lies in the acceptance of discomfort and the willingness to experience it. “Acceptance and willingness.” That’s basically my new mantra.
Even in chatting with Gross about my mental struggles in a 5K versus a half marathon, I feel like I have a new perspective on the distance. And a better mental script for the starting line: The pace will certainly hurt, but I can handle it, and doing so will only make the achievement sweeter.
There’s one caveat to these mind games, of course. “All of this is worthless if you don’t practice it, because we default to that escape mode of getting out of the discomfort,” Gross says. You have to do the “bicep curls for the brain” ahead of time, he adds, particularly throughout training.
Recently, I’ve been working on my mental playbook more during speed intervals and tempo runs in my race buildup. Instead of dreading mile repeats at a pace much faster than my average, I’m practicing leaning into the idea of being uncomfortable, of acknowledging how and where I experience pain and fatigue, and focusing my attention on the trees and sky above me. I’ve also been using the mental trick that Gross suggests: When my mind says I can’t go faster, I force my legs to do the opposite.
I can’t say I’m a pro yet, but it has worked to snap me out of anxiety or anger or whatever negative emotion pops up, and instead bring my mind to the positive payoffs of the physical work. It’s also translated to a quicker pace (The plot tends to thicken when I’m in the middle of the run, as I question my moves).
While I look forward to working on the rewrite of my mental narrative during speed workouts, I’m also excited to get to the start and finish of my next and fastest 5K with a fresh story to tell.
Mallory Creveling is an ACE-certified personal trainer and RRCA-certified run coach, who also holds certifications in kettlebell training, sports performance, and more. She has more than a decade of experience covering fitness, health, and nutrition for a wide range of publications, and nearly 10 years of experience as a trainer and fitness instructor. Mallory stays on top of her continuing education in fitness, as well as the latest science in wellness. She has worked with some of the best experts in their medical fields, and regularly interviews researchers, trainers, athletes, and more to find the best advice for readers looking to improve their performance and well-being. As a freelance writer, Mallory's work appeared in Women's Health, Self, Men's Journal, Reader's Digest, and more. She has also held staff editorial positions at Family Circle and Shape magazines, as well as DailyBurn.com. A former New Yorker/Brooklynite, she's now based in Easton, Pennsylvania.
