Alright. Hello. Welcome to the Substack. I don’t consider myself a particularly fantastic author or a literary genius but I do know a bit about running. And not to the point where I’ll turn you into the next Olympic Champion (I haven’t done that myself), but I have some experiences which I know are useful to pass on. I know this because alongside my pursuits as a distance runner I work as a physiotherapist. I’m neither the world's best runner nor healthcare clinician, but in the Venn Diagram overlap of the two fields I’d like to think I’d be a fighting chance.
As a runner, it has been great to see the running boom take off, particularly in Australia. In school I was the weird kid who just ran. “Are you going for another run?” was a common phrase uttered in my general direction. This was soon followed by, “Run, Forrest, Run!” I was proud to be different at the time, and now my little niche has become far more mainstream. It’s great.
What isn’t great is the amount of bullshit that is promoted by those desperate for attention or a quick buck. This isn’t confined to the running sphere, but it does leave those new to the sport confused, frustrated and wondering what it is they actually need to do. Online running content is a murky swamp of anecdotal and pseudo-intellectual advice (in this book I’ll refer to all online running content as the swamp, perhaps even all running advice in general). You might suggest I am contributing to this swamp, but I’d argue that writing on Substack is hardly self promotion.
As a physiotherapist, I have a wonderful platform to counter the swamp. But this too has its limitations. I deliver information to one individual at a time, and if they’ve booked an appointment it usually means my advice has come just a touch too late. The time constraints of an appointment also mean I have so much more to discuss and educate on, but in the world of physiotherapy it’s hard to justify an expensive follow up appointment for a chit-chat on general running advice. Patients famously remember very little too, and the bits they do remember are often inaccurate.
I don’t want to be a running coach though. Running is a selfish sport, and as a selfish person myself I find it difficult managing other runners' complaints, stresses and stressors. I like the science of training prescription, I enjoy handing on advice but I seldom enjoy problem solving seemingly superficial complaints from people I only know over the internet. The paradox of understanding the stress involved in individual athletic pursuits while observing the plight of humanity's most heartbreaking catastrophes is also something I can’t wrap my head around. This hit home in the clinic one day, where I went from consoling a distraught runner, sobbing due to a bone stress diagnosis, to my next appointment where an elderly man stoically confided to me that he was caring for his dying wife. Makes you think.
In short, I’ve had enough.
What started as a collation of informal patient handouts is now making its debut on the internet. None of this is designed to be your running coach. I do not recommend you subscribe so you can do it on your own. I am not here to diagnose any of your sore spots, or make running easier so you can beat your friends on next Sunday's long run. I am also not a psychologist, all advice is general in nature and I will continue to remind you of this.
I would just like people to be more informed. I sincerely hope you find information that allows you to understand more of the craft that is running. That you read a sentence prompting deeper analysis of your training and yourself. I hope along the way that there is a topic that interests you and allows you to fall into the wonderful rabbit holes that running provides. Or that you find answers to a question you’ve always been too afraid to ask.
Happy reading, and happy running.
Actually, no. Running is often not happy, and your best races are seldom enjoyable while you participate.
Happy understanding. May you find your reason why you run.