The Best Running Books: 9 Picks To Buy ASAP
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“I found Born to Run by Christopher McDougall to be a fascinating read! I didn’t read it during its peak popularity because I thought it didn’t sound like my cup of tea, but the McDougall is a talented writer and an intriguing storyteller.” —SBS
“My favorite is Advanced Marathoning by Pete Pfitzinger and Scott Douglas. Don’t let the title scare you—it’s a great handbook for folks who have one or two marathons under their belts and are looking to up their game. Training schedules are divided up by how many weeks you want to train and how many miles you’re willing to put in. Plus the authors tackle subjects like recovery, supplementary training, and race-day strategy. A classic.”—AMR podcast co-host Ellison Weist
“I love A Short Story About a Long Run by Lizzy Hawker, because I can relate to the adventure-seeking side of Lizzy Hawker. She is bold and seeks out things that would intimidate most people….. and she does them solo. She doesn’t settle for a life without purpose. I love her adventurous spirit, ability to take risks, and beauty encountered by pursuing her dreams.” —TLAM coach Stephanie Howe
“The Oatmeal’s The Great and Terrible Reasons Why I Run Long Distances made me feel like a real runner. Two reasons: 1) it was a gift from a friend when I was still in my “I’m not a runner I just kinda run a little” days and it made me realize she saw something in me I didn’t and 2) I was finally enough of a runner to get the jokes.” —AMR podcast co-host and columnist Adrienne Martini
“To me, Anatomy for Runners by Jay Dicharry is the be all/end all book for runners when it comes to building a strong, injury-proof body. Jay is PT extraordinaire and plots out a prescription for health in this book. Incorporate his recommendations into your routine and you will be a much-improved runner for it.” —TLAM coach Amanda Loudin
“Marathon Woman: Running the Race to Revolutionize Women’s Sports by Kathrine Switzer is a thoughtfully written memoir by Switzer, who broke up the Old Boy’s Club at the Boston Marathon—and went on to create countless opportunities for female runners around the world. She’s still running strong; she’s headed back to Boston this year to celebrate the 50th anniversary of her 1967 pioneering run, making this a perfect time to brush up on running history.” —Dimity
“TRI-MOM Swimming, Biking and Running Through Motherhood by Debra Hodgett is written by Triathlon Mothers who try hard everyday to balance it all while maintaining their sanity. Elizabeth & I are contributors. We write about our lives as racing at a top level (triathlon) and raising kids and working (running businesses) full time!” —Jennifer Harrison, USAT Triathlon Level 2 Coach
“Science of Running by Steve Magness. It is my go to resource for the ‘why’ behind what we do in run training.
—Coach Elizabeth Waterstraat
“Right now I”m reading Run Faster from the 5K to the Marathon by Brad Hudson and Matt Fitzgerald – more of an educational book. I love it though because I’m a firm believer in constantly learning about new methods and techniques to training and I really respect both Brad and Matt!” —Coach and podcaster Lindsey Hein
Do you have a favorite right now? Add it below!
Room On the Road: Claiming My Space in the Light
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This is the the most recent post in a new bi-monthly column: Room on the Road by Denise Dollar, who you might know as the founder of Heart Strides. She is in the process, as many of us are, of struggling with body issues as she finds her way back to running.
Coffee in hand, lunches made, kids fed, my mind wanders. Kids are back to school, I can stay home, catch up on laundry, work, squeeze in some reading, maybe even finish a cup of coffee. My lofty goals come to a screeching halt as my husband enters my private conversation, “Hey, I’m going to the Y, do you want to come with?”
I can’t say no. I want to—believe me, I really, REALLY want to—but I don’t. If I say no, I will feel guilty. I will obsess about not going the entire time he’s at the Y.
Had he said, “You SHOULD go to the Y with me” I most likely would have said ‘no’ simply because I’m feeling sensitive about my exercise routine these days and ‘should’ would have registered as judgment.
I open the fridge and slide my ‘She believed she could, so she did’ mug onto the shelf, smirking at the irony.
The drive to the Y is quiet, but my husband’s enthusiasm speaks volumes. His posture, perfect; back straight, arms relaxed; his gaze intense. He was already reaping the rewards of a workout he was yet to begin.
Me? Shoulders rolled over as if I had the weight of the world upon them. My thoughts, pensive; my jaw clenched; my brain stomping its feet, chanting I really don’t want to go.
Approaching the entrance, I quickly declare that I am headed to the track. I admire him for his renewed commitment to working out, but I have no desire to do squat, cleans, or deadlifts. Not today.
Shuffling down the hallway, passing classrooms filled with regulars and New Year’s resolvers, I head up the stairs to the track. I should run up these stairs. Nah, I’m halfway up, doesn’t pay to run now, slacker. Secretly wishing I would have the track to myself, I go through the doorway with high hopes.
Which way do I go? Right? Left? I look for clues and spot a sign, Sun-Thurs clockwise, Fri-Sat counter clockwise. I don’t even know what day it is. I read it again, this time slowly, S-u-n-d-a-y through Thursday… I still don’t know what day it is. I look around in search for a walker. Clockwise.
Finding my way to the inside lane, I try to ignore the fact that my shirt is hugging my belly. My skin rubbing up and down my shirt overrides the fact that my new bra is incredible. These girls aren’t going anywhere. Hallelujah. That fact alone should have me running from the parking lot, up the stairs, around the track and back down the stairs.
Even though I wore my protective armor—a light, zipped jacket that stays zipped— I feel exposed, vulnerable. I am that person that wants to be thinner before I go to the gym, just like I am that person that would clean her house before a cleaning service came.
I know. It makes no sense.
So here I am, sweat trickling down my back like Niagara Falls after only one lap. Too stubborn to shed my jacket, I stand my ground and sweat through a few more laps.
A vent blasting hot air is positioned halfway through my lap. Two times of walking through that sauna, and I ball up my jacket and toss it in a corner. Enough of that.
Back on the track, I am tired of walking. I start to run. This isn’t so bad. Actually it feels pretty good. I finish a lap. Then another. Wait. I take that back. This feels hard. It really doesn’t feel that great after all. The weight on my hips seem to be moving around more than usual.
So I make a deal with myself. Intervals: run half a lap, walk half a lap. Genius! I take off again.
Who am I kidding? It’s still hard. Why do I let this happen? This weight is just bringing me down. It’s so hard on my body. Stupid chips. Man, I love chips. Stupid chips. Shut up and keep moving.
I round the bend, deep in thought about what brings me back to this nebulous, exhausting point.
The point where I struggle with loving my body as it is and not loving it enough to keep it healthy. Why do I always seem to end up at this destination? Stress? Survival? Comfort? These extra pounds, why do I hold on to them? Why do I keep inviting them back?
Staring down at the track ahead of me, the shadows catch my eye. A nice distraction from my never-ending inquiry as to why I keep losing and gaining the same weight. I find a connection with the shadows. These shadows are just like my extra weight, lurking, casting a darkness, not really me at all, just following me around.
I pick up the pace and pass a woman that has been taunting me with her thigh gap for the last 20 minutes.
Turning up the volume on my phone, hoping to drown out my thoughts, I search for a mantra. Breathe, clear your mind, let it go.
Then I hear her. My pal Adele.
Hello,
it’s me,
I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet,
To go over
everything,
They say that time’s supposed to heal ya,
but I ain’t done much healing.
Words I have heard a hundred times go right to my core, as if I am hearing them for the first time.
Words that have me thinking of my younger self, that girl in her twenties who bumped up against life, never loving herself for who she was, never giving her dreams a place in the sun, always in the shadows. Those shadows.
Adele whispers in my ear, It’s no secret that the both of us are running out of time. The urge to join Adele for some karaoke-on-the-run is real. I want to croon with her. The only thing holding me back is fear of getting our memberships revoked.
Losing track of my laps, I think about that girl. Me. That twentysomething that was in constant motion but never felt like she was going anywhere; that teenager who thought the number on the scale defined her. That girl, those girls, need to come out of the shadows.
I start to run, passing the entrance where a young woman, maybe in her late twenties, has been standing for the last few laps. I notice that she has her protective gear on like I typically do, layers upon layers, covering this and that. She’s anxious about being at the Y, too. I see you sister. I get it.
She fidgets with her shoes, her phone, her GPS, glancing at the track in search, for what appears to be her place. You belong here. We make eye contact, I smile, but what I really want to do is grab her hand and take her with me, and sing loudly.
But this time, to a new song, which has just come on.
Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see
Why the hell it means so much to me
Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be.
Coming around for my last lap I slow down to exit, wishing with all my might that the young woman has found her way onto the track. She has, and it makes my day. I stop to pick up my jacket from the floor and notice I’m standing in the light.
This is where we all deserve to be. In the light, claiming our space.
I throw my jacket back down on the floor and head back out for another lap. I’m claiming my space for 2017—and for many more miles to come.
#244: How Sex Differences Affect Women’s Running Performance and Recovery
Sarah and Ellison Weist welcome Stacy Sims, Ph.D., the respected exercise physiologist and nutrition scientist whose latest book is titled ROAR: How to Match Your Food and Fitness to Your Female Physiology for Optimum Performance, Great Health, and a Strong, Lean Body for Life. Short version: Stacy talks about why mother runners need to stop eating and training like men. This former ultrarunner/triathlete/rower talks about why “one size fits all” is no way to guide weight management. She delves into how to balance losing weight with being properly fueled for a workout—and adequately refueled post-run. (Hint: Stock up on non-fat Greek yogurt!) Stacy also explains why it’s so important to bring up your blood sugar levels before a morning run. The conversation veers toward TMI territory when Stacy admits what hit her halfway through a recent 70.3 triathlon. Hormones dominate much of the rest of the conversation—but in an informative, not moody, way, including the powerful effect female hormones have on hydration needs. Dr. Stacy shares several hacks, including how to prevent menstrual cramps and how to sidestep GI distress during a run. Plus a tasty trick Stacy swears helps post-menopausal women sleep better!
Books Ellison and Sarah mention in introduction:
Victoria: the Queen by Julia Baird
Framed by Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.
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Dry Martini: Going viral
This January is kicking my tail.
Before the calendar changed to 2017, I had a firm grasp on one of my core character traits: I stick to my promises. It’s a conscious choice that I made when I had my first baby. I know how hard it is on a kid when the adult-in-charge routinely flakes out on something he or she says is going to happen.
(And, yes, this does tell you a little bit about my childhood. No parent is perfect, including my own. My inner child has built a bridge and gotten over it. Mostly.)
Anyhoo, I’ve long been of the under-promise-and-over-deliver school. I’ve learned to not commit unless I have a pretty good sense that I can deliver. I say “no” early and often, which has got to irritate those I say it to. But if I promise, I will do it, even if I have to drag an oxygen tent along for the ride.
Apologies for the blurry picture but the NYC marathon finisher’s book came in the mail! I had no idea I’d even get such a thing.
The past few weeks have been such a blow to my self-concept. First, I had to back out of running the Cherry Blossom 10-miler in D.C. in April, which I’d committed months before. Family schedules changed around me and, well, the only way I could see to make it work involved more late-night driving and physical punishment than a sane adult should plan to do.
Fine, I thought after all of those who would care were informed. It’s a hiccup. Bound to happen every now and again. This is just a sign of maturity, not laziness. Forgive yourself. Go for a run. Yada, yada, yada.
And then I caught a cold.
Yes, I did spend six days on the couch watching America’s Next Top Model with the dog. Don’t judge.
Which makes all of the coughing and sneezing and aching sound so inconsequential. This particular cold knocked me directly onto my behind for a full week. I didn’t leave my house, save for two aborted attempts to go to work and for a trip to the doctor because I was convinced I had pneumonia. She, bless her heart, informed me that chicken soup is good for colds like mine, as is rest and hydration.
Reader, I almost punched her but was too weak to make a fist.
I spent a lot of the last week on the couch thinking about the NYC marathon. I had the strength to run 26.2 miles without stopping to sit for a minute or take a nice nap. Yet, now, I couldn’t pull it together enough to get off of the couch and make toast without a rest afterwards. While I’m a lousy sick person to begin with, it turns out that I’m an even lousier sick person after having run through all five boroughs.
By Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I was finally feeling less ill. Not well, mind you, just less sick. Then my daughter started sniffling. And I remembered that I hadn’t been to my actual job-job for a week, which means I was so far behind on all of my ongoing projects that they were about to lap me. And then I realized that no sane person would travel to a race 2000 miles away in a few days, which is what I was supposed to do.
There were tears. Teeth were gnashed. I decided to be an adult and do the smart-but-galling thing: I bailed on the Austin 3M Half Marathon. I wouldn’t get to spend quality time hanging with my BAMRs. There would be no breakfast tacos in my near future. That sweet, spinning medal was not to be mine.
Plus, I’m be backing out of yet another commitment, which wouldn’t be good for my pride.
Once I’d made the decision and let all of the relevant parties know (who, of course, could not have been more supportive because I know some pretty amazing people), I decided to take my hacking, sniffly self out for an easy three miles. If nothing else, I’d just walk it — but I desperately needed to lace up my trainers and spend some time in fresh air. Any running I managed would be a bonus.
What you can’t see are all of the tissues in my pockets.
As runs go, it did not cover itself in glory. But it was exactly what I needed, I think, to start to feel OK with how the first two dozen days of 2017 have gone so far. Now to build from here.
How is your 2017 going so far?
Wisdom from the Tribe: Looking Back, What’s Easier Now?
We posed a question to the Tribe over the weekend on Facebook:
“If you’ve been running for at least a year, what’s easier now than it was when you first started?”
And we got SO MANY good responses. The many answer buckets were “breathing,” mental strength,” “stress over times/PRs,” and that dreaded “first mile.”
Hear what your fellow BAMRs had to say, and newbies: Take note. It gets easier. (In fact, it gets glorious.)
It is abso-friggin-lutely easier now than when I first started – have completely fallen in love with it along the way. —Audrey
It probably is easier… but your easy gets harder as you grow as a runner. —Kirsten
Bad runs no longer mean I can’t run and good runs remind me that I can. —Alisha
Absolutely! I used to go out for a 2.5 mile run with a water bottle & two gu’s. #rookie —Maria
Much easier, but never easy. You learn how to convince yourself to get out the door and get going. You learn that bad runs are going to happen and they pave the way for great ones. —Ariel
It’s easier because I am mentally stronger to get through each run. The long run, the crappy run, and the treadmill run are all easier to do when you have the mental strength. —Kristy
I know now that the first 1-3 miles feel like work and that the miles 4-26+ feel glorious! —Heather
So many things. Doing it anyway (tired, time, weather, audience). Knowing what the hell I’m doing (thank you, TLAM). Choosing the right gear for the run/weather vs. how comfortable I feel in said gear. Inviting my ass to the leg party. Choosing this me time. Telling people I run without adding disclaimers. Being fully active in life after a long run (instead of needing to go back to bed!) —Megan
I remember struggling with my breathing…over and over I’d stop because I “couldn’t breath” always being discouraged, thinking I just sucked. Then one day, it just happened…I had my first blissful “good run” and I never thought about my breathing again. —Bonnie
Running solo, sans earbuds, in the pre-dawn hours before work. —Samantha
It’s easier to get back at it. I’ve had two years of injuries. I could have easily said that’s enough and not trained again but I love the way a good run feels. —Katie
I have been running since April. This is my third stunt with running Never got past 5.5 miles. This time I have made 6.5 but most of my runs are about 5 but today I hardly made 3.66. When I started in April I could not manage my breathing. Had to walk/run to make 3. I have not had to walk for at least 5 months now. —Beth
It is easier because I keep expanding my mental toolbox through experience, reading blogs, podcasts, other BAMRS. I can bring up the tools I need to get through the training, bad runs, races etc to reach my goals or walk away from a bad run being a smarter runner from reflecting on what went wrong. Running is still challenging, but not harder. —Jeanette
Getting out the door even when I don’t feel like it. I know I will hit my groove before the first half mile is gone. —Barb
No it’s a love hate relationship. Some days I look forward to it and can’t wait. Most days I hate it and look for excuses but do it anyway and it usually turns out to be best run ever, either way I appreciate and love my runners high – true statement – bad run is better than no run! —Jolene
It is easier because I learned that I am worth the time I steal from my husband/kids/job to run. I don’t feel (as) guilty anymore. It makes it easier for me to get out the door and lose myself in the run. —MyckelBridget
Don’t trust the first mile. It’s a liar. ;) —Joan
The worry that I won’t be good, and the understanding that came when I realized that was completely not the point. —Shauna
Anything else to add? Share below!
#79: Weight, Weight…: Running and Weight Management
Sarah is traveling this week for work, so we’re re-airing an episode from August 18, 2013. The first approximately 100 episodes of AMR podcast are typically only available for members of Acast+; if you want to binge-listen to back episodes, subscribe to Acast+ by downloading the free Acast app and clicking on the Acast+ symbol.
Sarah and Dimity have heard from countless frustrated mother runners who have seen the number on the scale creep up instead of down while training for a half- or full marathon. So the gals talk to two guests about running and weight management. First up: sports dietician (and mother of two) Jackie Dikos, who talks about how to find a better balance that’ll make you feel satisfied, not deprived. Jackie also emphasizes the importance of “redefining rewards” for effort. Then the gals gab with Christy Zuzelo, another mother runner of two, but she’s cycled through 60-pound weight loss (and gain) three times. Training for her third marathon, Christy shares her tips for keeping excess weight off for good. (E.g. “If you bite it, you write it.”) Sarah and Christy bond over a shared love of Greek yogurt, and Dimity rants about yet another, “handful of frickin’ almonds.” Warning: Be prepared to drool while Jackie talks about cocoa-laced oatmeal, and when Christy shares her recipe for Lentil Chard Soup.
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