For the beginning years of my running career, I thought every run needed to feel like I was being chased by a cheetah. But over time—and let’s be honest, with a few too many sore muscles and existential questions mid-run—I’ve come to really appreciate the art of running slow. Here’s what this slower pace has taught me:
- I can feel accomplished without crawling across my front porch afterward. It turns out, you don’t have to sprint your way to success. Sometimes a steady shuffle does the trick.
- It builds endurance without breaking me. I get to pat myself on the back (and justify a donut) just for showing up and moving my body. That’s a win.
- It builds endurance without breaking me. Slow runs are sneaky. They build stamina like a ninja—quietly, consistently, and without knocking me down.
- They’re crucial for recovery. After a hard workout or long run, my body needs a gentle reset, not another epic quest.
- They’re good for my brain, too. Something about zoning out, moving slowly, and letting my thoughts wander feels kind of… therapeutic. It’s like a moving meditation, but … sweatier.
Running slow has become a completely normal part of my life. It keeps me consistent, happy, and weirdly proud of doing something most people try to avoid: taking it easy on purpose.