The counterintuitive leadership habit I learned while training for a half-marathon

I’m a few months into training for my very first half-marathon (which I’m doing in December!).

I’ve been running on and off for the last few years, but I only started running races at the beginning of 2025. So far, I’ve done two 10Ks and a 15K, and I’ve been pretty happy with my performance—especially considering I found all of my training advice on Google. 

When I started training for my half-marathon (that’s 13.1 miles!), I decided it was time to hire an actual running coach. This is the farthest I have ever attempted to run, so I want to make sure I set myself up for success on race day and prevent injuries while training.

I decided to hire a coach from Gainesville, FL, where I used to live. He trained a few friends of mine—all who have run marathons—and luckily, he had a virtual option for us to work together. 

During our first week of training, my coach introduced me to the “recovery run."

A recovery run, he explained, is when you intentionally run about two-and-a-half minutes per mile slower than your fastest race pace for a set amount of time. He said that this type of run would actually make up a big chunk of my training runs over the next few months.

I’ll admit: At first, I was skeptical. This strategy seemed totally counterintuitive to me. As a self-taught runner, I had always thought that I should try to run at or close to a pace that I'd want to run during a race. I was always very mindful of keeping my pace under a certain amount of time.

Two-and-a-half minutes slower seemed like quite a big drop. I’d hired him to help me have better performance during my race, and he wanted me to run . . . slower? 

But when my coach went on to explain why recovery runs are so important, it made a lot of sense. The point of a recovery run, he said, is to build up your cardiovascular system. By drastically reducing your pace and running for a set amount of time (usually longer than you would train at your race pace), you reduce risk of injury to your joints while still building strength and endurance.

If you push yourself to the max every time, my coach said, you’re not actually helping yourself, and you’re more likely to end up with a serious injury. He also reminded me that the goal is to love running while I’m doing it, and if I’m maxing myself out each time, it probably won’t be very enjoyable. 

I trust my coach and I know he’s the real deal, so I went into my training with an open mind.

When it came time for my first recovery run, it was excruciating. It was so hard to run so slowly! All I wanted to do was run faster. I’d bought a Garmin watch to help with my training, and even though I felt like I was moving slower than molasses, my watch kept telling me my pace was too fast.

The next few recovery runs were no different. Each one challenged me to the max. But each time, I got a little bit better at going slower, and then, something funny happened: I began to love my recovery runs.

All of a sudden, I found myself smiling and thinking, I could keep going like this for miles. 

Every time I finished a recovery run, I felt great—not like my legs were going to fly off, which is how I used to feel. Before I met my coach, I was sore for days after my runs. Now, I can run multiple days in a row without any soreness. And now, on days when I do my more strenuous runs, my pace is faster than I’ve ever been able to run before.

My coach was right: This is what running is supposed to feel like. And it probably won’t surprise you that I’ve found a way to connect this lesson to leadership. 

I’ve been thinking about what I learned from my coach about training too hard: Continually pushing yourself can actually be a liability. If you do that too much and for too long, you could severely injure yourself to the point where you can no longer run at all. 

It’s the same at work: I’ve learned the hard way that if I keep pushing myself and don’t allow myself time to rest, I will eventually burn out. Just like you can’t sustain your race pace during every run and expect to avoid injury, you can’t continually push yourself, your team, or your business without allowing for slower periods, or you’ll all hit a breaking point.

While it might seem productive to keep up our “race pace” and ask the same of our teams, the question is what if operating at our max actually keeps us from growing? What if we’re actually holding ourselves back from accomplishing everything we’re capable of? What if intentionally moving a little slower could help us achieve more in the end?

What could a recovery run look like at work? Maybe . . .

Read the rest on my blog! 🧡