“I have a question for you… Why?!?” my barber asks, as I tell her that I am three weeks out from my race. “I’m not really sure.” I innocently reply. Although in my head, I know the real answer is: “I am obsessed with innovation — whether in life or work — and for me, that means setting big goals that I know will be tough, but not entirely out of reach.” Seems like a deeply philosophical answer for the barber chair on a Thursday evening.
Mild self-deprication will do here instead.
My Running Background
My journey with running begins, as most, with The Mile Run. The dreaded Mile Run. How I longed that day. Luckily enough for us, this often took place in the Fall, and we had cider donuts and apples to finish (aply named “The Apple Pumpkin Run”). For it’s quite easy to entice k-5 rascals with sugar, so onward you go!
As the years go on, you have the athletes (like my younger brother) of whom could go out and do 6:30 miles on the pure training of simply being a young boy; wherin others (including myself) lagged back in the slower paces, feeling the burn of iron in your throat as you try to get over the finish line.
Those early years turn into many (with at least one season of Track & Field experience), and you wake up and find yourself 25 years old with a full-time job that feels like it sucks the life out of you at times.
To combat this, you pound drinks into the wee hours of the morning — searching for solace at the bottom of the glass, or just enough fun to forget the stress of the week before.
Your baseline anxiety rises, as you are not sleeping right, increaing your appetite for unhealthier options: adding an extra piece of dessert, a greasier/carbier option for breakfast, a beer with lunch — the list goes on. Waistlines on pants start to get a little tighter, your belt needs to be looseded an extra notch, you start to notice your belly is pertruding just a little further than normal.
You start going to the gym for a week or two, but fall off the routine with a long weekend or hard push at work that requires (what you believe) to be all your focus (“There’s no time for working out! I NEED to be in the office right away this morning!!”). You try again, but nothing really sticks beyond a couple weeks.
But that’s life. So you think.
At least, that’s how the picture looked for me coming into the Winter of 2022-2023.
Nick Bare
All this time, I had been following Nick Bare of Bare Performance Nutrition on YouTube.
Like most, I found his work during the years of COVID-19. I dont know him personally, but from the outside, Nick is what most young men in their twenties aspire to be: a successful Founder/CEO, absolutely jacked, and a stud athlete. He’s built a YouTube media empire that has helped grow his clean supplements brand into one of the top providers out there in the endurance sports space. To see how much growth they’ve seen since 2020 is inspiring to say the least.
I started watching these videos from afar, mesmerized how this guy of his size is able to feat such items as a sub 3-hour marathon, qualifying for the Ironman World Championships on his second attempt, later a sub 2:39 marathon (!!).
When the world was back open, I went to DSW (yes, really) and purchased a pair of Brooks Ghosts. No further steps taken, and I was out in the neighborhood for a run.
I believe at this time I did do a Nike Run Club program, but which one it was at the time has since slipped my memory. What I do recall was the fear of doing that third mile in one of the programs. That’s about it. Didn’t stick long, and those Brooks went right back to the shelf.
Re-boot the on/off wagon sequence as life started to get back to normal.
The Brooklyn Half
I cant nail it exactly down what was the crux of it all, but in February of 2023, I was ready for change (why start in January with the rest of the world?).
Maybe it was the failed attempt I made at running a 5k the morning of Thanksgiving 2023 (only got 2.5 miles). Maybe it was the work of Instagram at the time, pushing some running content inadvertently.
I started to see ads for the NYCRUNS Brooklyn Half. Perhaps a couple times. I texted a good friend of mine (of whom would lift with me when I was on my workout streaks) and asked him if he wanted to run a Half Marathon in April (just a few short weeks away). It didnt take too much convincing, as he was also a Nick Bare fan.
Back to the trusty Nike Run Club App. They have a wonderful layout, coached runs, and guides for runners. Seemed perfect. I still had those trusty Brooks Ghosts, and acccess to a treadmill in our apartment building. Time to build.
What a learning experience that was! I had way too ambitious of a goal, had too fast of a ramp-up (got injured), and learned so many things along the way.
One of them being the relationship between alcohol and performance. After a rough start with Nike Run Club (a little advanced for the couch-to-Half Marathon runner), we found a good training program (RunWithHal — thanks, Mom!) and had just enough time to get us to the start line. I remember sitting in bed the night before the peak run of the training block — noting to Laurin “I cant believe I have to run TEN miles tomorrow… TEN!”.
That race is a story for another day, but the gist of it was that I went to a really dark place around Mile 9 after a really fast start, getting crushed by some nice hills at the end (we knew about them, but played it off as “probably not that bad”).
Sure, there was some walking, and there was definitely a moment I almost walked off the course, but I put my head down and crossed that finish line — proclaiming the classic “never again!” as I dammned those dreaded hills of Brooklyn.
After the race, I soon fell back into the old ways: drinking, workout stints, and putting the weight right back on.
Nick Bare consumption was still consistent, now encorporating some others in the endurance space to that rotation, but never really doing much beyond that: start a new program, overwork, under-prioritize, burn out/give up, repeat.
January 2025
Then came New Year’s Eve of 2024. I had been battling some sort of sinus infection, and was begging to just stay in. However, at the request of my dearest, we went out to meet up with some friends in our apartment complex that were throwing a little shindig.
The prosecco and champagne began to flow, and before we knew it, we found ourselves at our nextdoor neighbor’s until almost 4am. A real banger!
For no good night goes unpunished, and that New Years Day, we were in as bad of shape as anyone. I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say it wasn’t good.
I had been battling with the internal idea that drinking wasn’t serving the same purpose as it once did to me, but never really had the courage to take action to change that habit. I did see the light briefly during my training, as I had to learn what to do on Friday nights instead of going out and drinking Negronis beyone the point of enjoyment.
New Beginnings
For beginning January 2nd, it was time to do an official “Dry January” — and this time, I was sticking to it. N/A beers and club sodas with lemon/lime were the new modem operandi. January quickly came to a close, and I realized that I was starting to feel pretty good.
I had started up a habit of just moving 30 minutes a day, with a big calendar (from Tracksmith, aptly titled “No Days Off”):
“\” was 30 mins of movement: walking, golfing, lifting, etc. The key here being intentional movement)
“/” was no alcohol consumption that day
As you can quickly see, when combined together, we create a X. It soon became a challenge to make a full “X” on each date. If I did drink, then I would write the amount of drinks I had next to the date so I could keep count.
This time the habit stuck.
This simple act of the big calendar in my closet pushed me to continue just one more day. You could see the string of progress and the physical results started to build up quick.
Sunday mornings that used to be spent sleeping in and melting into the couch became a time of writing this Substack, growing my personal brand, and creating a network of like-minded people.
Yes, I did ease slightly back into drinking — but really only for special occasions, and no more than 2-3 at a time.
I just felt too good to revert back to my old ways. My work performance started to climb as well, and I was learning new ways to stay occupied and have fun on the weekends (like our Friday ice cream date ritual). I also think a movement led by some podcasts posted from the big dogs in the space helped create a revolution of acceptance around choosing not to drink — with a wide variety of N/A options out there (Athletic Brewing makes the best IPA-replacement option).
In this time, I found the book “Finding Ultra” by Rich Roll: a story of Rich’s life from a Stanford swimmer, turned high-power attorney, turned broke alcoholic, turned ultra endurance athlete. Such a powerful book, and one I recommend to anyone.
Likely highly influenced from my readings, It was around this time that I decided that I needed a new challenge for myself.
As I’ve written about in the past, I do try to consistently have some sort of challenge in the horizon. It’s how my brain works. It’s the North Star that keeps my engine going beyond the basic two-week regimens I tried all these years leading up to this.
I had sparked change in my life with the drinking and focus on health for a solid 6 months. I felt that I had built a solid enough foundation in this where it wouldnt quickly slip.
It was time for my next athletic endeavour: the Marathon.
Brick-by-Brick
Learning my lessons from Brooklyn, I decided to choose a race closer to home, with less hills as a way to bring myself back into it. For I’ve watched so many videos on YouTube on marathon training, and I’ve already done a Half, how much worse can it be?
Famous last words.
Kidding! But, it was time to get back in the saddle.
This time around, I decided to train with the Runna app — as they had some hevaily-targeted ads to me, and it seemed reputable enough with the Reddit army. I was able to time it up with my race, setting my intial goal time of four hours.
I had taken the traning extremely serious, dialing-in nutrition, sleep, and of course, alcohol consumption.
Weeks turn into months, and before you know it, I’m now in peak week of training — facing a twenty-miler before I start to wind-down the miles before the big race (“Tapering”).
The Big Workout
I wasnt as worried about the distance on this one as I was about the pace targets. Runna has AI-integration which looks at your weekly speed sessions, learning to see if you are on-pace or off-pace to hit your race completion target. These speed sessions are never insanely difficult, and are often a reprise from the longer tempo-based workout sessions of weeks prior.
Anyways, with that, Runna had slowly suggested that I move my pace target down to somewhere around 8:45/mile for the WHOLE RACE (for reference, my long-run easy pace was about 10:15/mile).
The workout: 4.5mi easy, 11mi at race pace, and 4.5mi easy to finish.
Game on.
I carb-loaded that week, took mobility extra serious, all in anticipation for the big workout. I took to BPN the weekend before to restock on gels + G1M Sport (carb and electrolyte drink), and hit The Feed for two water bottles and caffienated gels (after consultation with ChatGPT acting as my stand-in nutritionist).
For this workout is as close as you’ll get to race simulation in this build. This is where all your training is put to the test. In my mind, it was imperative to get it right.
In this time of preparation, I had caught the ear of a coworker whom I learned was running the same race, and in fact, had many times. He gave me some sound advice to go check out the race course for the twenty-miler to get a feel for race day. Sounds good. The course is net downhill, after all. Might as well try it out!
I usually do these long runs on Saturday mornings, right as the sun is rising, and before the heat settles in. However, we needed to hit the road for a wedding of two friends near and dear to us. That meant getting up extra early on Friday (like before 4AM), eating, stretching, and getting out the door for the 35-min drive to the course so that I could knock out the workout and get to work at a reasonable time. Also rattling around in my brain was a dinner reservation for Laurin’s birthday Friday night at our favorite Italian restaurant in town, where you need a reservation at least a couple weeks out. Saturday morning could work, but it would be on essentially the same timeline… Friday it is.
The BPN gels and water bottles that I ordered from The Feed didnt make it in time, so I pivoted last minute to grab some Maurten gels and water bottles from a local running store. Fine. I can return the others. Lay out the equipment the night before, make sure the bottles are ready to be mixed (GPT helped lay out bottle strategy) — and before I knew it, it was time to get up and go.
The portion of the run route i was on was about 70% bike path, with 30% sidewalks and one road change between paths. There would be a hill almost right after the start (~2mi in) — with all downhill running after that. Lace up the kicks, put on some tunes, and pound some pavement. 4.5 easy. 11 hard. 4.5 easy. I’ve got this.
Right away, I knew that I felt a little off. I had possibly been battling some sort of sinus illness or something along those lines, and it was showing its face quickly. Next, I was graciously gifted a nice note from my watch saying that my performance quality was abismal. I dont think ive ever seen it as low as it was to start this run. Great. Just what the mental framework needs to top it off.
I got through the hill, and fell into rythm to finish out the first block. The sun was starting to come up, and I was feeling ok. Time to kick it into high gear for the next 11. Ditch the shirt and the first water bottle at the start. This was an out-and-back type of run for me, so I figured I might as well lose the weight.
The first handful of miles felt fine, but then the mind started to fire up: How are you going to hold this pace for 4 hours if you can barely do it for two? You’re never going to finish. How much longer? There’s surely no way you can go on.
I kept going, but there was no way i was going to hold that pace. I just didn’t have it in me. I started to pull back the pace a bit, but the mental games and exhaustion were really starting to get the best of me.
Then I see it: ANOTHER HILL. Great. You have to be kidding me. Alright; let’s see what we can do. Head down. Step-by-step.
I made it to the other side, stopping on the side of the new path to catch my breath.
Yup, there’s no way. I pushed on a little bit more, but finally ceded to the mental and had to call it quits. I felt no other emotion than just pure frustration. There I sat, a 26 year old male, crying like a baby on the park bench.
I failed.
At this point, I had dedicated the last eleven weeks to training — giving all that I could to make sure I got to this point. Athletes know this feeling well. You give all your emotion and tie it to the big event, and for one reason or another, it doesnt come out in your favor. You underperform. You lose the big game. You fail.
Yet, it is in my belief that failure is one of the main ingredients in the recipe for success. For if you dont push the boundaries of what you’re trying to do, how do you know you were pushing hard enough?
Obviously, this is hard to see on it’s own - and thankfully for me, my Mother has been around the block in the marathon space. She was there and available to come pick me up on this trail - offering nothing but sound wisdom for me to listen to. “You need workouts like this to truly know what you’re capable of”, she notes. “Take it easy on your first one. Enjoy it. My best marathon ever was the one I had no time goal for; I just ran what was comfortable. You’ve worked so hard to get here. Dont give up”.
So, back to the drawing board.
What was my level of comfort? What could I hold to get me over the finish line?
10:15/mile was the magic number. Still a respectable pace.
I updated my app. The next couple weeks were taper anyways, but I came out clear-headed and motivated to finish.
Just as the other weeks had blown by, the last three after this were nothing different. Run, rest, refuel, repeat. October 12th was quickly approaching.
The “Carbo Load”
Most people probably relate to carb loading through the classic scene from The Office where Michael Scott eats a takeout container of Fettucini Alfredo right before the company 5k. “Fettucini Alfredo. Time to carbo load.” he exclaims as he scarfs down the pasta right before the race goes off.
This obviously does not end well, and is not the path I decided to follow.
Rather, I would try my best to hit 600g of carbs throughout the 3 days leading up to the race (TH, FR, SAT) — with easy to digest carbs and familiar foods on the day of the race.
For me, that meant actually eating a full breakfast (I usually opt for something quick and light) + fueling periodically throughout the day with bread, juices, rice, bananas, apples, pasta, granola, etc.
I love to eat, so this seemed like it would be a fun adventure in a way. Total in-restricted carb intake? Sign me up!
What you forget to realize is that means you likely will need to pull back both Protein + Fats from your diet to stay within a healthy intake range of calories for the week. That is where I was thrown off. For in the first day, I was eating the same amount of food I normally did, just adding in more carbs.
I quickly grew sluggish and slept poorly. It’s all in the name of the prep I exclaimed to myself, fighting through perpetual brain fog Thursday and Friday during work (not great!).
Friday was the big night. This was the night’s sleep that would set me right for the race. We made sure to eat early, out away phones, read for a bit before bed, take magnesium, crack the window for constant cold.
The Big Night’s Rest
Cracking windows is common for us. We like it cold in the bedroom. It’s good for you. What isn’t good for you is opening the windows and having a small furnace in your bedroom that had been turned on for the season and left on one of the hottest dial settings (unbeknownst to us). That leads to a fun wake up call, feeling like your bedroom has transformed to a sauna in the night. We finally realize how to turn the knob down, and shut the windows to reduce this cycle of cold, hot, cold.
Now awake, the mind starts to race, and typically, you fall back asleep.
But, this is the most important night’s sleep before the race! All the pressure rides here. You can’t fall back asleep. Too much to think about: What am I going to wear there? What if it rains? What if I can’t finish, just like the last long workout there? Do I have enough fuel? Do I have too much fuel? What if I get too hot?
You finally drift back to sleep for a few hours before starting Saturday already behind. A day full of anticipation and worry actually moves pretty quick and after some walking around downtown with my family during the day, it’s time to start prepping one last time for a long run.
This race in my mind was like any other long run. Get up, use the bathroom, drink G1M, eat a snack, stretch, go to bathroom again, find a podcast, hit the ground running. But, this was a little delayed from my usual schedule, and we needed to drive there first. That meant delayed caffeine intake (or so I thought) to help the effects at the start of the race.
Race Day
I finally make it to the starting gate, and instantly see some familiar faces. A good sign.
The wait time feels like forever, even with a 20-minute wait to use the port-a-potty near the starting line. People everywhere are running around, stretching, jogging, trying to shake the jitters off before we hit the pavement.
Then, finally, we hit the starting gate. You can feel the anticipation everywhere. Pacers are introducing themselves to the group, people are throwing around the classic: First one? To those in an arms-reach. Some jump up and down, ready to go.
I know from the last time around that I really need to watch my pace out of the gate — especially with the hill in my imminent future. Let’s take it slow. Maybe the 10:15 group will be a good starting point.
3-2-1… go!
People disperse and it’s just a crowded mess for the first mile or so. You look around: old men, young ladies, teenagers, moms, dads, peers. It’s quite amazing — especially when someone your senior cooks right by you out of the gate (and well into the race).
That same feeling strikes as it did when I started the 20 mile workout. I feel heavy, undertrained, weak, and just not with it. So much for the taper!
My mind immediately starts to get into a tizzy.
Focus. Put on a podcast and zone out. Get to those hills, and then you can relax afterward.
I did just that.
One mile leads to another, and before you know it there are six down. Quick mental math: Ok. Only need to do that like 3 more times!
I see my Mom and family along the way. It’s around mile 10 when I first admit to my mom that I don’t know if I can do it. I really couldn’t see a place where I could make it the whole race. I had dropped my pace back to around 10:30-10:45/mi and nothing was getting better. The mind started to spiral: “How are we going to do this for another 16 miles?”.
Nevertheless, we persisted. I reached the Half Marathon point, where Laurin was awaiting me with a restock on my carb + electrolyte drink with some caffeine in it.
My body already hurt, and my stomach was starting to like the gels less and less. But, I slowly forced myself to consume it as I made my way past the point where I gave up the last time (and really almost did again; there’s something about that one spot that just crushes your soul).
All the sudden I started to wake up a little more.
Maybe I can do this. I had made it to Mile 16, and a crucial mental hurdle was crossed. Only ten miles to go! I exclaimed to a new friend on the course.
It was at this point where I came up with a little game for myself.
You see, the race had water stations set up every two miles. These stations had water and Gatorade, and it was very common for runners to slow down to a walk and refuel here.
Two miles. Big whoop. I can do that! Only 5 stations to go!
This was a huge unlock mentally for me. Those 2-mile intervals go quick, and at each station you clamor more and more for that opportunity to walk for just a second, recovering what little energy is left for the next burst. Slowly, five became four, then four became three. “I am going to do this” I realized.
Then came the infamous Mile Twenty.
This was coming into a downslope into my old town where I lived, so I was pleasantly energized and happy to start this final descent to the finish line.
It was at this time that we were on a bike path next to the thruway, which was extremely overstimulating and almost a little nerve wracking — especially to someone whose whole body is under duress.
“Just push through to the next water station” I continued to tell myself, skipping the songs to find some ones that will hit deep.
Finally. The water station arrived. Two miles to go. Easy, right?
Those final two miles may have been the hardest part of the whole race.
Every part of your body hurts: your feet, your head, your shoulders, your neck, your knees. You feel every single step top-to-bottom in your bones. People everywhere around you are walking, taking a second to catch their breath, or just are flat out power walking it in to the finish.
At this point, your mind knows it’s going to finish and is doing everything in its own power to get you there. What’s different this time is your body is struggling to keep up. Even with gels and electrolytes, you’ve out a grade-A beat down on this machine, and it needs servicing.
“20 more minutes to go. That’s it.” I remind myself.
Then, I see the final water station.
One last walk and I can make the final push to the end. I’ve done this part a million times. Step by step, we move closer and closer to the end.
Finally, as you turn the corner you start to see the family members, fans, and can hear the announcer at the finish line. Time to dig deep and finish strong. I pick up the pace and give it everything I have to cross that finish line.
I did it.
I see my family and my fiancée as I cross the line. All I can do once again is just cry. Except this time, it’s just pure relief. Fifteen weeks of stacking bricks comes down to that final moment, and I delivered.
God trains us in perseverance by allowing us to encounter resistance.
For, what fun is crossing the finish line of something, if you didn’t encounter any pain along the way?
I have nothing but the utmost respect for the beast that is the marathon. It is not only a feat of athletic endurance, but a true testimony to the mental prowess of the athlete to keep their head in the game and not give up along the way.
I’m just a regular guy who decided that this was something that I wanted to do and went for it. In this case, it paid off.
Care to revert to the bolder line above once more?
-Paul
I have greatly enjoyed reading along your journey. Great writing and great accomplishment, congrats!