
In the few years I've been running, I've tried different sorts of training runs: tempo runs, threshold runs, cruise intervals, recovery runs, and everything else in between. But the most challenging has to be the "no-ego run."
Trying to run without giving in to your ego's greedy demands is a bizarre and frustrating challenge. I can't count the times I've set out from home on an easy run with the solid intention of running a 6-minute-per-km but coming home out of breath, having averaged somewhere closer to five. Or doing an interval session at the gym and pushing the pace higher than is sensible. Or the time I thought it would be a good idea to try and run a 10K PB at lunchtime, so I could post about it on Instagram... (I did, but suffered a stress fracture and was out for six months.)
And then there are race days.
My most recent half-marathon attempt is a case in point. I ran a personal best a couple of months before executing what was, for me, a solid, considerate, and achievable race plan. (I ran with the 4:30/km pacers until 16 km and then picked up the pace, even managing to pip a runner right on the line, who I'd tracked for that final 5 km, crossing the line a couple of seconds south of 1hr 33minutes.)
Having experienced this "success", my ego decided to take control of the race plans.

Having experienced this "success", my ego decided to take control of the race plans. Rather than following a similar confidence-building approach in the next race — which was only a few weeks later — my ego slotted me in with the 4:20 pacers. Why? Well, surely, that's where I belong. That's where I should be.
Result: a hellish solo slog from 8km to the end, battling the dust and sweltering heat; confidence draining as I got passed by a stream of other runners.
The funny thing is, that was the second time that week I got dropped. A few days before, at the RETO Running Club session, I couldn't keep up on the final 1500-meter interval at 3:25/km, and the pacer and others in my group forged ahead as I languished behind.
But in the club, I was being a wide-eyed challenger. In the race, I was being an ego-driven fool. It's a fine line, but one I'd like to tread more consistently.
Can we call ourselves runners if we don't smash a sub-20-minute 5k, sub-40-minute 10k, sub-90-minute half marathon, or the big one — the sub-3-hour marathon?
In a way, it's not surprising. YouTube is packed with running videos about achieving certain arbitrary times that runners "should" be aiming for. Can we call ourselves runners if we don't smash a sub-20-minute 5k, sub-40-minute 10k, sub-90-minute half marathon, or the big one — the sub-3-hour marathon? And not to mention the super shoe boom. To even attempt these times, don't even think about it unless you are coming in hot with a carbon plate and a double stack of foam.
All of this feels like fuel for the ego to gobble up and fill the mind with a skewed view on reality.
Now, as you may have noticed from the key image, I have also bought into the super shoe craze — quite literally — paying a pretty penny for a pair of On's Cloudboom Echo 3s. While they undoubtedly provide extra zoom and forward propulsion, I question why I bought them. On reflection, I can't deny that being in running practice sessions and races where I seemed to be the only one in old-school running trainers had something to do with it.
In no way am I knocking running or the running community. It has done wonders for my mental and physical health and gives me an endless source of motivation. I enjoy watching shoe reviews and training videos on YouTube and am currently aiming to go under 90 minutes for my next half marathon in May.
I just hope I can tame my ego and find humility in every stride.
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