Making Peace with the Season You’re In

As I sat down to write this blog, it became clear that I’ve really been going through it this past year. That realization pulled me back to my story — the story of a female athlete and coach navigating change, setbacks, and growth.

Recently, my business coach reminded me how powerful it can be to revisit old writing. So I reread past blogs and noticed something interesting: the last time I wrote about my story was also in February. February of last year.

There’s something about late winter that invites reflection. It’s the in-between season. Not the excitement of January. Not the bloom of spring. Just stillness. A space to look at how things went, how we hoped they would go, and how we understand them now.

This year, that reflection hasn’t been easy.

The past year brought multiple injuries — mostly back-related — along with a frozen shoulder that showed up uninvited. From a fitness standpoint, it felt like I wasn’t moving forward at all. In many ways, it felt like I had taken steps backward.

Before my first back injury, I had numbers in my head:
A 200-pound deadlift.
A 185-pound back squat.
A 125-pound clean & jerk.
Another podium finish at Duathlon Nationals.

I could see it. I could feel it.

And then… none of it happened.

Not one goal.

Was I mad? Absolutely.
Did I feel betrayed by my body? Yes.
Am I still working on letting that go? Every day.

What no one prepares you for is the quiet grief when your body doesn’t respond the way it used to. The grief of slower recovery. Of heavier weights. Of realizing you can’t outwork everything anymore.

And for women, this isn’t just aging — it’s physiology.

Perimenopause can feel like your body rewrote the rulebook without telling you. Hormones shift. Recovery changes. Sleep changes. Stress tolerance changes. And instead of acknowledging that, most of us just push harder. We assume we’re not disciplined enough.

I did.

I trained through pain. I compared myself to a version of me that no longer exists. I felt like I was falling behind — behind my goals, behind my expectations, behind who I thought I should be by now.

But here’s the part that makes this story bigger than injury.

When I couldn’t train the way I wanted to, I poured myself into my business and my relationships. I built. I connected. I grew. In many ways, I reached a level professionally that I’ve been chasing for nearly ten years.

So no — I wasn’t moving backward.

I was just growing in a different direction.

This winter forced me to slow down. And in that stillness, I had to face something uncomfortable: I wasn’t actually doing what I needed to recover. I was operating from pride. From ego. From “I’ve been doing this long enough to figure it out.”

I assumed I knew what was wrong instead of asking, “What’s happening in this season of my body?”

So I finally did. I got evaluated for what’s real right now — not what was true twenty years ago.

Letting go of my old expectations — and the expectations I thought others had of me — felt like peeling off layers of pressure I didn’t even realize I was carrying.

I’m not magically healed. I’m still working through back issues. But now I’m addressing what’s actually in front of me instead of fighting ghosts.

And maybe that’s the lesson.

To the women navigating perimenopause, slower recovery, frustration, or unexpected setbacks: you are not broken. You are not done. You are in transition.

Sometimes the way forward isn’t more discipline.

Sometimes it’s support.
Sometimes it’s reflection.
Sometimes it’s admitting you don’t have it all figured out.

Sometimes strength is allowing yourself to begin again — from exactly where you are.

If you’re in a season where your body feels unfamiliar, where recovery looks different, or where you’re questioning what’s next — you don’t have to navigate it alone. This is the work I care deeply about.

Maybe that’s why February keeps calling me back to my story. It’s the quiet season that asks for honesty. Two years in a row, this month has asked me to pause, to look clearly at where I am, and to release who I thought I was supposed to be.

Maybe February isn’t about evaluating progress at all.

Maybe it’s about making peace with the season you’re in — and trusting that growth is still happening, even when it looks different than you planned.

 

Winter Base Building: Endurance + Strength It’s What I’m Actually Doing Right Now

January and February training isn’t glamorous. There are no races on the calendar, no flashy workouts to post, and honestly—some days it’s just cold, dark, wet, and your bed is calling louder than the urge to get your workout in. But year after year, this is the phase that makes the biggest difference in how strong, fast, and durable I feel later on.

Winter base training is where I slow things down on purpose. Not because I’m “taking it easy,” but because I know this work matters.

Why Base Training Matters, Even When It Feels Boring

Base training is about building the engine and the structure that holds it together. For me, that means prioritizing aerobic work, lifting consistently (and lifting heavy), and keeping intensity in check—even when my brain wants to go harder.

When I’ve skipped or rushed this phase in the past, I’ve paid for it later with nagging injuries, burnout, or fitness that peaked too early. When I fully commit to base work, everything else feels easier. My aerobic pace improves, my strength feels more stable for longer, and I can handle higher training loads when it actually counts.

Right now, my weeks are simple: a few steady endurance sessions, 3–4 strength days, and at least one day where I truly back off. Simple doesn’t mean easy—it means intentional.

Strength Training: Less Ego, More Payoff

Winter is my favorite time to lift because I’m not trying to “maintain” strength around hard workouts—I’m actually building.

When I’m really pushing the scale, I stick to a few key lifts: squats, deadlifts, clean & jerks, snatches, thrusters, pull-ups, bench press, and Turkish get-ups. These are my big-ticket items. I always complement them with accessory movements where I’m not lifting nearly as heavy—but I’m still working hard. These movements aren’t fancy, but they’re functional and fierce—and I feel fierce after doing them.

What’s changed over the years is how I load them.

Instead of defaulting to 3 sets of 10 or 2 sets of 15, I now spend most of my time lifting heavy and sub-max. I live in that 6–8 rep range with clean reps and good control, and then about once every four weeks I’ll go for a true max lifting day. I want to finish sessions feeling strong—not wrecked.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that strength training works best when it supports endurance, not when it steals from it.

The biggest mistake I see (and have made myself) is doing too much “strength endurance” lifting and not enough true heavy lifting early in the season. Winter is the time to build a solid strength base that will carry you through the year—and to work on your limiters so you don’t end up on the injured reserve all season.

Aerobic Endurance: Yes, Even Indoors

If you train through winter, you’ve probably had the “Do I really need to do this easy session?” debate with yourself. I still have it.

Most of my endurance work right now lives in Zone 2—easy enough that I can breathe through my nose or hold a conversation. And yes, a lot of it happens indoors. Bikes, treadmills, walking, and stair climbing all count.

Every time I commit to this work, the same thing happens: my pace improves without forcing it, my recovery gets better, and harder sessions later don’t feel nearly as overwhelming. It’s not exciting in the moment—but it shows up later in a big way.

Mobility: The Unsexy Glue That Holds It Together

I’ll be honest—I don’t do long mobility sessions. What does work for me is consistency.

I spend 5–10 minutes every day working on something. Usually, it happens right when I’m about to fall into a social media scroll loop. Instead, I drop the phone and focus on one of my limiters. I do it with intention and actually pay attention to how it feels.

This is not fun—I’m not going to lie. It’s hard work, sometimes just as mentally challenging as a max lifting day. But when I stay consistent, the gains stack up fast.

I prioritize hips, shoulders, upper and lower back, and ankles. When those areas feel good, everything else feels better. On the days I skip this, I notice it immediately in my lifting and running mechanics.

Mobility isn’t extra—it’s what allows me to train consistently without feeling beat up.

What a Real Winter Training Week Looks Like

Right now, my week isn’t perfect—and that’s kind of the point.

I’m hitting 3–4 strength sessions, 3–4 endurance sessions, and sprinkling in technique work during each workout. Some weeks are better than others. The win is consistency, not perfection.

Are You Training Too Hard Right Now?

If you’re constantly tired, irritable, or feel like every session is a grind, that’s a sign—not a badge of honor.

I’ve learned that when winter training starts to feel heavy, the answer usually isn’t more effort—it’s less intensity. Backing off now doesn’t make you weaker; it sets you up to train harder later.

And sometimes, it’s not about backing off—it’s about adding variety. Here in California, winters aren’t always cold or wet, so I’ll mix in mountain or gravel bike rides when the thought of another 3–4 hour road ride makes me want to sleep in instead of jumping out of bed excited.

Slow, enjoyable work builds strong athletes. I remind myself of that often.

Winter Nutrition: Don’t Underfuel the Quiet Season

One thing I have to consciously manage in winter is fueling. When it’s cold and I’m training indoors, hunger cues aren’t always obvious—but recovery still matters.

I focus on consistent meals, plenty of protein to support strength work, and staying hydrated even when I don’t feel thirsty. When I do this well, my energy, recovery, and mood are noticeably better.

Measuring Progress Without Chasing Numbers

During base season, I don’t obsess over the scale or PRs. I pay attention to how training feels.

Is my heart rate lower at the same pace? Am I lifting with better control? Am I recovering faster between sessions? Those are the wins that matter right now.

Winter training isn’t about proving anything. It’s about showing up, stacking small wins, and trusting that the work you’re doing—quietly and consistently—will pay off when it matters most.

And from experience: it always does.

Year in Motion: Celebrating Wins and Setting Intentions

 

As we approach the end of the year, it’s a natural time to pause, reflect, and celebrate the journey we’ve been on—both in fitness and in life. For many of us, 2025 was a year of movement, growth, and learning how to listen to our bodies in new ways. Whether it was tackling a new training goal, improving mobility, or simply showing up consistently despite the ups and downs, there’s a lot to be proud of.

This year, my blogs have explored a wide range of topics—from navigating diet culture, to overcoming open water fears, to breaking through age-related limitations, and focusing on mobility and recovery. Each month, my goal was to provide insight, guidance, and practical tools to help women over 40 train smarter, stay resilient, and honor their bodies.

As we close out the year, here are a few takeaways to carry with you:

1. Consistency Beats Perfection – Progress is made one step at a time, whether in training, mobility, or mindset. Small wins accumulate into lasting change.

2. Listen to Your Body – Soreness, fatigue, or discomfort is information, not a setback. Honor it, adjust, and use it to grow stronger.

3. Celebrate Non-Scale Victories – It’s not always about PRs or race results. Completing a swim you once feared, mastering a mobility sequence, or simply showing up consistently are wins worth celebrating.

4. Rest is Productive – Incorporating pauses, recovery days, and mobility work isn’t slacking—it’s essential for long-term performance and health.

As we look ahead to 2026, I’m excited to dive deeper into strength, endurance, and recovery strategies tailored for women navigating peri- and post-menopause. We’ll explore how to train smarter, move more freely, and push limits safely—all while honoring the rhythms of our bodies.

Take these final weeks of the year to reflect, move mindfully, and set intentions for the year ahead. Celebrate what you’ve accomplished, and get ready to step into the new year stronger, wiser, and more empowered than ever.

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End-of-Year Checklist for Your Body and Mind

1. Reflect on Wins – Write down at least 3 training or mobility victories from the year, big or small.

2. Prioritize Mobility – Spend 10–15 minutes each day on stretches or exercises you may have skipped during busy months.

3. Plan Rest Days – Schedule intentional recovery days during the holidays to recharge without guilt.

4. Set Intentions, Not Just Goals – Focus on how you want to feel in the new year, not just what you want to achieve.

5. Move for Joy – Include at least one activity this month that makes you feel good—swim, bike, walk, or stretch—without focusing on performance.

Enjoy your holidays! Take this time to relax, reflect, and connect with your family and friends. I’d love to hear about your goals and intentions for the new year—share them with me, and most importantly, go out and enjoy life!

Thank you for being part of this journey with me. If you found this blog or any of my content helpful, please feel free to share it with your friends or anyone you think may benefit. Let’s continue to move, grow, and thrive together into the new year!

Mobility...How I Get You Started

Mobility work is all about unlocking smooth, powerful movement—helping you learn how to move your joints through their full range of motion so every lift, sprint, and daily task feels better. When I bring clients and athletes on board, we kick things off with quick, simple assessments to spot the tight spots and weak links holding them back. Then we dive into targeted drills, controlled patterns, and breath-driven movement to build real strength and control where it actually matters. It’s not just stretching—it’s targeted training that helps you move your body with confidence and power in every direction. And the best part? With a little consistency, mobility becomes the game-changer that makes all your other training feel stronger, safer, and way more fun.

And now, enjoy these three quick videos where I walk you through mobility work for your shoulder, hips, and spine...

Here is my intro video and an explanation of Shoulder CARS:

Here is my video on Thoracic Spine Mobility:

Last here is my YouTube Short: Mobility for Endurance Athletes.

Each of these movements represents a cornerstone of the Functional Range Conditioning approach, and together they create a foundation of mobility that any athlete can benefit from. By integrating these drills into your training, you’ll build usable range, joint resilience, and long-term performance. If you have questions about applying them to your program, feel free to reach out or drop a comment.

Struggle Happens: Finding Purpose in the Pause

 This is an open letter to all my clients, athletes, bike-fit folks, coaching athletes, and even those of you quietly watching from the background — the ones who take everything in but don’t always say much. This is for you, and honestly, for me too.

We are all human. Obvious, right? But the human experience of struggle, however, often involves a unique level of self-awareness, hope, and a drive for personal achievement. Not many of us are willing or able to admit we are struggling — at least not out loud.

There’s been something in my life that once felt amazing. I used to look forward to it every day. Lately, though, it’s become something I’d rather run away from. That shift has been heavy — it’s drained my energy, mentally and physically. I’ve felt frustrated, stuck, unsupported. I was originally planning to write about my journey in this field — how I got here and what I’ve learned. But honestly, this is where I am right now, and it feels more important to talk about connection, and how we can show up for each other when life feels hard.

Maybe you’ve felt that too — when something you once loved starts to feel like a burden. If so, this one’s for you.

The Pressure To Push

We live in a culture that glorifies hustle — 60- to 80-hour work weeks, seven-figure dreams, and the endless pursuit of being “the best.” Somewhere along the way, we decided that rest, reflection, and humanness didn’t fit that equation.

But where in all that striving do we leave room for us? For checking in, for feeling the full range of emotions that come with being alive? The truth is, we don’t. We measure worth by output, not presence.

I’ve fallen into that trap too — believing my value depended on how productive or visible I was. In the fitness and coaching world, it’s easy to blur the line between pushing for excellence and pushing past your breaking point.

But maybe success isn’t about how much we do. Maybe it’s about how present we are while doing it.

Redefine “Progress”

Over the past few months, I’ve had to slow down and look inward. To many, it might seem like I’m doing less, like I’m falling behind. But truthfully, I’ve been learning what progress really means.

One afternoon last week, around 2 p.m., I hit my limit. Normally I’d use that time to prepare for the next day or check off the final tasks from my list. Instead, I grabbed a book, a glass of water, a blanket, and my kitten — and I checked out. I skipped my workout. I didn’t do the “responsible” thing.

At first, I felt guilty — like I was breaking some invisible rule. But maybe rest is part of the work too. In training, we know rest days are where the real growth happens. Maybe the same is true for life.

And you know what? It helped. That one small pause gave me the space to breathe. I felt calmer, and when I returned to work the next day, I was sharper and more focused than I’d been in weeks. I connected better with my colleagues, I was present, not just in my physical form, but emotionally I was checked back in. 

Just like trees in autumn, we have to shed what no longer serves us. Letting go isn’t failure; it’s how we make space for renewal.

Permission to Pause

We don’t talk enough about taking mental health days — about saying, “I need today for me.” It’s not lazy, it’s necessary.

I used to think stepping away meant falling behind, but the world doesn’t collapse when you pause. If anything, it gets quieter — and clarity has a chance to speak.

Giving yourself permission to pause doesn’t mean you’ve lost your drive. It means you’re aware of your limits and brave enough to protect your energy.

Finding Your Release Valve

For me, movement has always been my pressure valve. When I can’t ride, I lift. When I can’t lift, I chase my cats around the house. (They love it — mostly.) The activity doesn’t erase the stress, but it releases it — takes it from a 25 out of 10 down to a one.

That isn’t weakness. It’s resilience.

Your release might look different — a walk in the woods, a long shower, a journal entry, a scream into the wind. Whatever it is, find it and protect it. What helps you exhale? What brings you back to yourself when the world feels too loud?

Sometimes we share those releases with others. Sometimes we keep them private. Either way, it’s an act of strength to keep choosing yourself.

And when we give ourselves that space — that breath — something unexpected can happen. The noise quiets, and what’s underneath starts to surface again. That’s where reconnection begins.

Reconnecting with Purpose

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on what first drew me to my work — helping people move better, feel stronger, reconnect with their bodies. That spark is still there; it’s just been buried under the noise and exhaustion.

Maybe you’re in that place too — where the thing you used to love feels distant. That doesn’t mean it’s gone forever. Sometimes purpose isn’t lost; it’s just resting, waiting for you to slow down enough to find it again.

I don’t have it all figured out. But I’m learning that evolution isn’t something to resist. Passions can shift. Purpose can change shape. And that’s okay.

Reconnection doesn’t always look like starting over — sometimes it’s simply remembering why you began.

A Gentle Reminder

To my clients, athletes, and friends — if you’re in this space too, please know you’re not alone. We’re all figuring it out, even when it looks like we’ve got it together.

Healing and clarity take time. Sometimes they show up quietly, in the smallest moments — a breath, a walk, a laugh, a cat curled in your lap.

Even on the hardest days, the light still finds its way through the trees. Keep showing up — not perfectly, not endlessly, but as you are. That’s more than enough.

Maybe the bravest thing any of us can do is to stop, breathe, and remember we’re human.

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear how you’re giving yourself permission to rest — or what your own “release valve” looks like. Hit reply or leave a comment. Let’s normalize talking about the hard stuff — together.

Paddling Past Fear: A Journey Around the Santa Cruz Wharf

☕ Let’s Take a Ride Together

Sit back, grab your morning cup of coffee, and let’s go on a little journey together.

Most people who meet me—especially those who train with me—know I’m a very active person. I like doing hard things. Sometimes scary things. That’s been true since I was a kid. I loved being active, but I was often told I couldn’t—or wasn’t allowed to—do certain things, just because I was a girl.

So I pushed boundaries. I’ve driven a motorcycle 110 mph down the highway, jumped out of an airplane at 18,000 feet, and ridden my bicycle downhill at over 50 mph wearing nothing but a helmet and a thin layer of Lycra.

But there was one thing that always eluded me: swimming in Santa Cruz, especially around the Wharf.

🌊 The Fear & the Block

This past month, I did something I’ve been afraid to do for years: I paddled all the way around the Santa Cruz Wharf. What might sound like a fun Saturday to some was, for me, a huge breakthrough.

I’ve had a deep, persistent fear of the ocean for as long as I can remember. So intense, in fact, that I used to fake being sick to get out of it. Sea lions, kelp, sharks, choppy water, powerful waves—it all terrified me. The unpredictability triggered massive anxiety. And since I started doing triathlons in 2012, I found ways to avoid ocean swims altogether, choosing events in rivers or reservoirs where the water felt safer and more familiar.

It wasn’t just fear of the ocean itself. It was fear of freezing up, of drowning, of needing help in front of others. As a coach, that felt unacceptable.

🏄 Slowly, I Returned

But over the past couple years, my role shifted. I began coaching open water swims for the Silicon Valley Triathlon Club. I got myself a stand-up paddleboard (SUP) so I could support my athletes from the water. At first, I stayed close to shore—maybe 200 yards out at most. Each time I paddled out, I focused on calming myself. I’d just sit on the board, feel the water move beneath me, and watch the other swimmers.

Little by little, the anxiety began to ease.

Eventually, one day, I paddled all the way to the end of the wharf—and around it.

Maybe it was the responsibility I felt that day, staying close to my athletes. Maybe it was the years of gradual exposure. Whatever it was, I did it. And when I reached the end of the pier, I cried. I let the emotion roll through me like a wave I’d been holding back for a long time.

🔥 The Bigger Picture: Hormones, Health, and Identity

This moment wasn’t just about conquering a fear. It was the result of something bigger: rebuilding my body and mind over the past year.

I’ve been navigating hormone replacement therapy, relearning how to rest, managing stress, and slowly returning to training. The old “push through it” mindset didn’t work anymore.

When I realized I was in perimenopause—and later, menopause—it all started to make sense. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, battling brain fog, and getting very little sleep. Anxiety became constant. I stopped riding on the road, stopped running in the dark, and I definitely stayed away from open water.

Getting help changed everything.

My regular doctor wasn’t much help—they hadn’t learned anything about menopause (as is sadly common). So I looked elsewhere and found Midi Health. With their support, things started improving. Over the past 8 months, I’ve felt a major shift. The anxiety—which was the hardest part—finally started to lift.

That shift in my mental and emotional state was key. It gave me the clarity, confidence, and courage to finally paddle past the Wharf.

🏖️ The Day I Paddled Around the Wharf

The day I finally did it was during a course preview for Tri Santa Cruz, where the swim goes from Watchtower #3, out and around the end of the wharf, then back into the beach by the Dream Inn.

That morning was... calm. The drive over Hwy 17 was peaceful, not panic-inducing. I arrived early, inflated my board, and walked it to the beach. The ocean was still. The air was cool but not cold. Even the 50+ swimmers—20 of them mine—seemed relaxed and excited.

The water was calm. Barely any surf to wade through. The temperature was a pleasant 64 degrees. The sound of gulls and waves was oddly soothing.

About halfway to the end of the wharf, it hit me: I was actually going to do it. I stopped paddling, turned toward my swimmers, and just sat there. Calm. Present. Watching them move through the water.

I felt that familiar lump in my throat. Let it come. Tears welled up, then passed. And I continued paddling.

When I reached the farthest point—farther from the beach than I’d ever been—I looked back and felt something I hadn’t felt in the ocean before: peace. The kind I’d only ever known during a protected harbor swim in Kona.

I encouraged my swimmers as they rounded the pier and together we headed back toward shore.

💬 Why I’m Sharing This

This wasn’t about crossing a finish line. It wasn’t about going faster or setting a new personal best.

It was about facing a long-standing fear—and getting the help I needed to do it.

Sometimes the help we need isn’t visible. Sometimes it’s not about a training plan or a coach. Sometimes it’s internal: subtle, hidden, and deeply rooted in hormones, identity, or emotional health.

To move forward, I had to name my fear, understand its roots, and find the tools to work through it. For me, it was a mix of time, patience, a supportive community, and yes—hormone therapy.

If you are facing your own version of the Wharf right now—whether it’s physical, emotional, hormonal—you’re not alone.

You’re not broken.

You’re in transition.

And there is a path forward.

Why the 10% Rule Doesn’t Work — And How I Keep My Athletes Injury Free

A new client recently asked me how I’d build them up for their marathon in January 2026. Specifically, they brought up the “10% Rule.”

If you’re not familiar, the 10% Rule is the idea that you should never increase your weekly mileage by more than 10% to avoid injury. On the surface, it sounds reasonable — even smart. But if you’ve ever trained with me or heard me talk about coaching, you know where this is going:

We are all different, and we need different inputs to reach our individual goals.
So my take? The 10% Rule completely misses the mark.

In fact, a recent study** of over 5,200 runners — with 22% female participants and an average age of 45.8 years — showed that even small mileage spikes can significantly increase injury risk. A 10–30% jump led to a 64% increase in injuries, while spikes of 30–100% led to a 52% increase (yes, slightly lower — welcome to the messiness of human data). And jumps of more than 100% in a single session? That was linked to a 128% increase in injury risk.

It’s clear: arbitrary mileage bumps, even small ones, can be risky if they don’t match your current training load, history, and recovery capacity.


One Size Never Fits All

Let me give you an example. I worked with an athlete last year who’d been running marathons for years using a free online plan. The plan followed a simple progressive mileage model — likely influenced by the 10% Rule. But despite being consistent, they were constantly dealing with overuse injuries.

When they came to me, our priority was to train smarter — not just harder. We built their plan around them — their history, strengths, schedule, and feedback. Fast forward: they not only stayed healthy, but they ran a PR at the California International Marathon and qualified for Boston.

So, why doesn’t the 10% Rule work?


It Ignores Individual Variability

No two athletes are the same. Some adapt quickly to higher mileage, while others need more time. Sticking to a strict 10% increase could either:

Hold someone back unnecessarily, or push someone into injury territory. Your training should reflect your unique physiology, history, and recovery ability — not a cookie-cutter formula.


It Doesn’t Account for Life

Mileage isn’t the only stress your body is handling. What about: Sleep (or lack of it)? Work deadlines? Family stuff? Weather? Terrain?

If you increase your mileage by 10% and add an extra speed session and only sleep 4 hours a night… that 10% just became a lot more than your body can realistically absorb. Context matters. Always.


It Discourages Intuitive Training

Blindly following a plan can train you to ignore your body’s signals.

Another athlete came to me training for their first 50K. They were terrified they wouldn’t finish, so they stuck religiously to an online plan based on — you guessed it — the 10% Rule. When their body started sending warning signs (fatigue, soreness, nagging pain), they kept pushing through.

The result? Injuries and water jogging as their only cardio for the last month.

Soreness, pain, fatigue — that’s feedback. You need to pay attention to it, not override it.


Progress Isn’t Linear

Your fitness doesn’t go up in a straight line. It’s more like a squiggly one: progress, plateaus, setbacks, breakthroughs. Some weeks you’ll feel unstoppable. Others, you’ll feel like a slug. That’s normal.

If you expect to increase every single week, you’re setting yourself up for frustration — or worse, burnout.


Long-Term, It’s Just Not Sustainable

Even over a 12-week training cycle, a consistent 10% increase (with deloads) leads to a 135% jump in mileage. That’s a lot.

Unless you’re starting at very low mileage, most runners simply can’t — and shouldn’t — handle that kind of build. Eventually, the math just doesn’t add up to sustainable, injury-free training.


So What Does Work?

My approach with athletes is based on adaptation, not arbitrary rules. Here’s the framework:

Keep mileage steady for three weeks.
Deload for one week.
If those three weeks felt strong and manageable: bump up mileage — a good starting point is 10%, and sometimes by a bit more than 10%.
If they felt anything other than great for those three weeks: a smaller increase (5%) — or maybe none.
If signs of fatigue or overuse show up: we don’t increase, and we might even back things down.

This model respects the body’s natural rhythms and allows time for adaptation. It’s sustainable, personalized, and — most importantly — it works.


Run Your Race

If there’s one thing I hope you take away from this, it’s this: training isn’t about following rigid rules — it’s about learning to listen to your body. The 10% Rule is a fine starting point for beginners, but it falls apart quickly for real-world athletes with real-world lives.

So ditch the rigidity. Tune into your body. Trust the process. And train like the unique human you are.

If you’re getting ready for an endurance event — don’t wait until the last month to reach out. The earlier we start, the better we can understand how your body responds and get you to the start line strong, healthy, and ready to crush it.

Let’s build you up — the right way.

**https://bjsm.bmj.com/content/early/2025/07/07/bjsports-2024-109380

How much running is too much? Identifying high-risk running sessions in a 5200-person cohort study