One Year, One Thousand Kilometres, Zero Progress?

I started running in June 2020.

I’d grown up playing football and rugby, but until then I’d never set out to deliberately run and do nothing but run without a ball, racquet, or bat to distract myself from the exercise.

Before we get started: This isn’t a guide on how to get better at running, mostly because, as you’ll read, I’m not even 100% sure I did. I wouldn’t trust my advice on training regimens, nutrition, shoes, or smartwatches. This is to show my progress, or lack thereof, and to hopefully illustrate that peak performance isn’t always an indicator of successful progression.

So, June 2020. Over the course of that month, I did my first 5k, 10k and half-marathon. These were my times:

I found running difficult but addictive. It was a necessary antidote to lockdown’s curbing of organised sport. It became an outlet for multiple frustrations and kickstarted a hobby I maintained throughout the year.

Here are my monthly totals for the subsequent 13 months of 2020/21:

In total, I ran over 1,000km. I consistently went out at least 2–4 times a week to run a variety of distances, and it became a part of my routine. Also, to my delight, I got better and better.

I set multiple goals (including the 1,000km one), completed Strava challenges, and accumulated more and more accessories and kit. I started to get competitive with my own times, with five kilometres, the baseline barometer of success among most runners, being the target improvement goal. Here’s how I got on in those months:

In September I hit my (still) personal best of 23 minutes two seconds over five kilometres, the culmination of a four-month period in which I consistently took off 20 seconds per PB.

But as you can see, ever since then I haven’t been close to beating it. In fact, according to these graphs, my worst 5k month ever, both in terms of individual time and average, was one of the most recent, May. So what went wrong? Despite my consistency, my new gear, and an increase in general fitness, the times got worse.

Well, my progress has stalled because I’m a human being and not, I was disappointed to discover, a PB-gaining 5k machine. I hit a plateau and struggled to get through it, and without an injection of dedication and training, I couldn’t break into the 22-minute bracket.

Crucially, motivation isn’t something you can measure with a watch. Injuries derailed a week here and there, my weight ebbed and flowed with the seasons, and despite oscillating lockdowns, real-life events got in the way.

So has my year of running been a failure?

Well, although my times were at an all-time low in May, I did run the most kilometres of any prior month, with 146, nearly 5km a day. And, despite the data not showing a perfect trajectory of decreased minutes, anecdotally I know I am a better runner than I was twelve, six, or even one month(s) ago.

Working at something continuously doesn’t always lead to continuous improvement.

Even though I’m not as quick as I was in September, when I run today I can tell from the first thirty steps whether I am in good form or if it’s going to be a slog. I have a sense in my bones of what different distances feel like. I understand when it’s my cardio letting me down or if it’s my muscles being sore.

The relationship between my brain and my body, the gear shift that occurs when you put thought into action, has gotten smoother. I know if I turn the dial-up, get my heart rate just 3bpm higher, my splits will get a few seconds lower. I can push through physical barriers that previously had felt impossible.

It seems almost stupid in its simplicity, but if you do something several times a week, even a small amount, you’ll get better at it. Because doing a task regularly, demystifies the unknowns. For running, it’s the recognisable soreness from previously invisible milestones of distance, the sense of perspective from running a hill you drive up regularly, or the rush you get when you wriggle free from the heavy grip of demotivation.

I might not put in my best individual performances now, and after a year some of my runs might look like they were right where I started. But because I have the benefit of taking the journey in between I can recognise that progress hasn’t reset to the beginning of the run, it’s just the start of another lap.

In June 2021 I repeated the distances I’d done a year before, with the added benefit of a thousand kilometres and hundreds of hours.

So how do I consolidate these numbers against my performance?

If I just went by PBs I could be disappointed in how the previous six months have gone and mourn all the progress I’ve lost. If I look at the yearly decrease I could be ecstatic with the improvement, cutting nearly 10 minutes off of my benchmark runs. My half-marathon time has dramatically improved, hitting my best ever mark this month, most likely a testament to my overall fitness gains from running consistently.

Yet, armed with the mental and muscle memory of these runs, the thing I’m most proud of is starting a brand-new hobby, consistently working at it for an entire year, and never stopping.

Because form and motivation will always fluctuate. I have had better and worse runs at various points, and frankly, some of those times may prove to be the high-water mark of my running career.

But one thing that has been consistent is putting my trainers on and running, every week, every month, every season, in every type of weather that the UK has to offer (which is nearly every type of weather). Running is hard, but for me at least, the toughest part was finding the resolve to consistently get outside, even when the buoyant effect of personal bests had worn off.

If you’re starting something new then it’s important to identify where your personal wins are. Running, weight training and fitness, in particular, can be hypercompetitive worlds stacked with show-offs and gatekeepers, and it‘s tempting to apply this toxic mindset to your own activity. I’ve become more goal-oriented, more adept at understanding and pushing past limitations, and have more self-belief in my ability to start and stick to a task, in every area of my life.

When reflecting on my PBs and monthly totals, it’s important for me to remember that my best runs came at a very specific junction between motivation, fitness, and mood. All the work I’ve done since then, whilst not always as effective in specific categories, still puts me in a better position to get back there again. By not stopping I’ve succeeded, even if it’s not always easy to recognise.

So, if you can, try and get some distance between associating your peak performance and your overall progression. Because it could take some of the pressure off, and you might realise you’ve come a lot further than you initially thought.