Why I Had to Learn to Pace Myself

The Day I Tried to Race Across a Field

When I was in my early twenties, I decided to go for a run across the meadow near my house. I had o training plan, no watch, and absolutely no clue.

But I did have one deeply ingrained belief from school athletics. When you run, you need to be the fastest.

At school, running meant one thing — hammer it round the track and try to beat everyone else. If you weren’t gasping, you weren’t trying. If you weren’t red in the face, you weren’t committed. Effort meant speed.

So naturally, when I set off across that meadow, I sprinted. Flat out. Because that’s what running was, right?

By the time I reached the end of the first field, I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust. I was hot, dizzy, massively out of breath, slightly dramatic about it, and nursing the beginnings of a headache. It wasn’t empowering. It wasn’t character building.

It was awful. So I walked home. And very maturely decided, “Well. I won’t be doing that again.”

That was my early relationship with endurance sport. Go too hard. Suffer. Quit. Conclude it’s not for me. Solid strategy.

The Half Ironman That Changed Everything

Fast forward a few years. For reasons I still can’t fully explain (mild delusion? curiosity? ego?), I signed up for a Half Ironman in New Zealand.

Yes — the girl who couldn’t run across a meadow without nearly fainting. Training started. Plans were downloaded. Long sessions appeared in my calendar that looked like I was crazy. I was!

And then my brother asked me something that stopped me in my tracks,

“Are you finding it difficult trying to get faster?”

I said, without hesitation:

“No. I’m finding it difficult trying to get slower.”

That was the first time I realised something fundamental. I didn’t actually know how to pace myself.

Discovering Zone 2 Training (And Why It Felt Wrong)

When I started properly looking at my Half Ironman training plan, I kept seeing something called Zone 2. Long runs in Zone 2. Long rides in Zone 2. Steady efforts. Controlled efforts. Conversational pace.

I remember thinking, this can’t be right. It felt… lazy. I wasn’t gasping. I wasn’t seeing stars.
I wasn’t collapsing in a heap at the end.

Surely this wasn’t “real” training? But here’s what I learned quickly. Zone 2 training is not about ego.
It’s about endurance.

It’s about building an aerobic base so strong that when you do go hard, your body doesn’t fall apart. And more importantly — it’s about sustainability.

There’s absolutely no point starting a run too fast, blowing up halfway through, and dragging yourself home questioning your life choices.

Which, if we’re honest, is what most of us do in sport… and in life.

Why Slowing Down Is Harder Than Speeding Up

Going hard is easy. It’s dramatic. It’s satisfying. It looks impressive on Strava. Slowing down? That’s uncomfortable in a completely different way.

When you run slower than you think you “should,” your ego starts talking. “You’re fitter than this.”
“You should be faster.” “What if someone sees you?”

Zone 2 training forced me to confront something I hadn’t noticed before. I wasn’t trying to improve. I was trying to prove. There’s a difference.

When you’re trying to prove something, you rush. When you’re trying to improve something, you build.

The Fast Learning Curve

It didn’t take long to see the shift. As the distances got longer, it soon became clear.

When I stopped sprinting off at the start of every run, I could actually finish strong. When I rode steady instead of smashing the first hill, I had energy left. When I swam controlled instead of frantic, I didn’t feel like I was drowning in lane three.

It was a fast learning curve. Not physically — that took time. Mentally. I realised endurance wasn’t about how hard you can go for five minutes. It’s about how well you can manage yourself for hours.

And that changes everything.

What Zone 2 Teaches You (Beyond Fitness)

Zone 2 training isn’t flashy. It doesn’t give you dramatic stories. It doesn’t leave you crawling up the driveway.

What it does give you is

• Patience

• Discipline

• Self-control

• Trust in the process

It teaches you to hold back when every instinct says go. It teaches you to play the long game. It teaches you that restraint is not weakness.

And honestly? That lesson spills into everything else. Careers. Relationships. Goals. You don’t sprint the first mile of your life and expect to survive the distance.

The Burnout Trap

Most beginners (and plenty of experienced athletes) make the same mistake I did in that meadow. They start too fast. Too much intensity. Too much ambition. Too much ego. And then they burn out.

Not because they’re incapable — but because they never built the base. Zone 2 is boring. But burnout is worse. The truth is, consistency beats intensity almost every time.

You can’t fake endurance. You have to build it.

Slowing Down to Go Further

Training for the Half Ironman forced me to rewire how I saw effort. Effort wasn’t about maxing out every session. It was about accumulating steady, sustainable work over time. And ironically?

Once I embraced Zone 2 — once I truly committed to slowing down — I actually got faster. Because my engine got bigger. Because I wasn’t constantly exhausted. Because I stopped fighting the process.

Endurance is a Mindset

Looking back at that girl in the meadow, sprinting herself into a headache and giving up entirely — I don’t see someone unfit. I see someone impatient. Someone who thought if she couldn’t be fast immediately, it wasn’t worth doing.

Zone 2 training taught me something far more valuable than pacing. It taught me that progress doesn’t always feel impressive. Sometimes it feels controlled. Measured. Quiet.

But it compounds. And that’s the difference between quitting after one field… and finishing a Half Ironman.

Play the Long Game

If you’re new to endurance sport — or coming back to it — and you’re finding yourself constantly exhausted, frustrated, or plateauing, ask yourself:

Are you trying to get faster? Or are you trying to get better? Zone 2 might feel too easy. It might bruise your ego. But it builds something deeper than speed. It builds resilience.

And whether you’re training for a race, chasing a goal, or just trying to become a stronger version of yourself — that’s what actually carries you across the finish line.

If you want to explore more about the mindset behind endurance, discomfort, and growth, that’s exactly what I dive into in Stronger Every Mile.

Because sometimes the strongest move you can make… is slowing down.