James Hsu

2024 was a breakthrough year for me as a runner:

• I ran 2,600 kilometers, the most I’ve ever run in a year.
• I ran 3 marathon races, improving 20 minutes in my finish time, each time.
• I learned a lot about myself, and my mindset, in the process.

The third point is most relevant to non-runners and I hope you’ll read on.

Learning #1: running IS learning

Learning is the process of acquiring new knowledge, skills, values, attitudes, or behaviors. It can happen through studying, experiencing new things, or being taught by others.

—Google

Running is a skill. As with many skills, it is something you get better at through practice and study.

Practice means running, a lot.

Study meant two things for me this year: (1) thinking about running; (2) starting a training regimen.

In the confines of a program, I learned about easy runs, hard runs, and how to push my body to its limits in the right ways. That, and the critical importance of sleep.

I also got better at learning about my body and how it worked. In particular, listening to my body in real-time:

Does it hurt?

Is it sore?

Why is it hurting?

Recovery as a runner, and being disciplined about rest, is why I’ve stayed (mostly) injury-free this year.

Learning #2: consistency is compounded excellence

As human beings, we’re deliciously atrocious at viewing the big picture and mapping out the long-term.

Stock markets are predicated—no, designed—to be punishing to those with short-term outlooks, and rewarding to long-term investors.

Each year, my attention span shortens. I’m more willing to give into a dopamine rush of some sort, usually triggered by an app or notification on my smartphone.

Running says, fuck all that noise.

Running says, try being impatient or greedy with progress. Try running your fastest in every session, without regard for the aftermath. We’ll see what happens. (Bodily self-combustion, basically.)

Running says, there are no shortcuts. But run every day and you’ll become a better runner over time.

Consistency matters. Change is gradual and barely noticeable until you realize one day that you’re running faster and stronger than ever.

I ran my fastest 5K, 10K, 21K and 42K times ever, this year. I’m 42 years old.

Nothing really changed in my day-to-day. It only changed over months, and years, of sustained effort.

Learning #3: find the balance between quantitative and qualitative (but respect the basics)

I bought a Garmin watch for running in September. For the first few weeks, I seemed to be reading the watch for measurements, on my heart rate and pace, every 20 to 30 seconds.

There is tremendous value in following a quantitative training approach. Monitoring our heart rate is a guardrail for regulating our training; it is a metric that all runners can understand and follow.

Furthermore, heart rate and pace help us design goal-based workouts.

But for me, it’s also important to have fun. When fun enters the equation, balance is needed.

This year, my running coach Kate introduced me to the concept of Rate of Perceived Exertion, or RPE. RPE is a subjective way to measure how one feels during a workout from a scale of 0 to 10.

Kate asked me to run based on RPE—how I felt in the moment. I loved this approach!

• Monday: make this an RPE-2 easy run! Nice and relaxed; run for 90 minutes without strict regard for pace.

• Wednesday: make this an RPE-7 interval run! Your hands should be on your knees by the end; you should struggle to talk.

But I don’t think it is truly enough to base my workouts on feelings.

We’re human; our minds and bodies can lie to us, at times, about how we feel. We tend to over- and under-estimate our abilities, all the time.

We’re terrible judges of others, and of ourselves.

Therefore, the qualitative RPE method should be balanced by quantitative guardrails.

After thinking about each approach, I came up with my own “balanced” approach:

1. Plan a workout based on RPE.
2. During the workout, monitor how I’m feeling.
3. Balance this perceived effort with periodic glances at my heart rate and pace.
4. Make sure I’m tracking several things to make sure I’m not going off the rails.

Triangulate different pieces of data:

• Do I feel strong, but my heart rate reads higher than expected? I might be feeling good but over-estimating my capabilities.

• Do I feel like this is a hard run? My heart rate (and pace) tells me that I could push a little harder; let’s ramp things up a bit.

The beauty of running lies in being human. Being human means not knowing exactly which version of you shows up on a given day.

Learning #4: running is a mental sport

Whoever said that running is mostly mental is…mostly correct?

Don’t get me wrong; running is physical. It’s damned hard to go from couch to marathon without a solid base of fitness.

You’re never going to intellectualize or think your way to an excellent finish time without practice—lots of it—and putting in the work. In running, they call that base-building.

I’d qualify the original statement to say that beyond a certain point, running becomes a mental sport.

The reason I ran 22 minutes faster from one marathon to another—4 weeks apart—is purely mental.

There was no time to improve my fitness. In fact, I struggled to heal and recover properly after the first one kicked my ass.

I was on the verge of quitting on the second race; I was that banged up.

The reason I ran way faster in the second attempt is because I trained my mind to process the race differently:

• In my first attempt, I believed in the best-case scenario: train sufficiently and I’ll power through the wall. Heck, I might even avoid it entirely.

• In my second attempt, I believed in the worst-case scenario: I’m going to hit the wall and it’s going to smack me in the face; brace for impact. Embrace and lean into the pain.

The second race felt like what the first race should have been.

I prepared for the worst.

In an ironic twist, the wall didn’t come, and I ran the best race of my life.

Was I a different person? Did I suddenly gain a scary amount of fitness while limping around for weeks on a bad ankle?

Absolutely not!

Again, respect the basics. Train until you get a certain amount of confidence and feedback about what is possible.

And then, after you’ve done all the heavy lifting, let your mental game carry you through the rest.

Learning #5: respect the “thing“

The “thing” can be a marathon, or a big presentation, or getting along with your new boss. It can be a relationship with a loved one.

The “thing” is important to you at this stage of your life.

Don’t take the “thing” for granted. Respect it and respect the process.

Trust the process, and you’ll get there.

—

For some bloody reason, I’ve written a lot of articles about running this year.

Is this the new thing? Am I destined to become a running blogger?

I have no idea.

I know that my past experience, at non-running “things,” have made me a better runner.

This year, it was running marathons. In the past, it meant building companies, moving across countries, writing books, and dealing with my inner anxiety.

All of these tasks required mental fortitude and the willingness to keep going, when it seemed hopeless.

There’s something beautiful about doing difficult things, and sucking, but eventually getting better.

I hope that these concepts can be applicable even in non-running contexts.

I’d love to hear from you.

Take care of yourself and be well.

James