This was my fourteenth marathon, but the first I’d done with the guidance of an online running coach. Although I recently became a certified running coach myself, I’d never actually worked with one. So a few weeks into my training, I asked Adidas (which gave me the bib for Boston) if I could connect with one of the coaches from Adidas Runners. They introduced me to Jessie Zapotechne, the Adidas Runners lead for North America who also has a private coaching practice.
While an in-person coach can watch your workouts in action and help adjust your form, what does an online running coach offer that you can’t get from just following a general marathon training plan? I asked Zapotechne for her thoughts on our first weekly call together.
“I would say number one is accountability,” she said. Close behind were the abilities to help you adjust your training as you go and answer questions. What she didn’t mention but I’d soon learn: Training with a good coach gives you a kind of confidence in your preparation that is hard to match just by going it alone.
I was pumped to get started. But after just a handful of runs, I came down with a fever and chills that sent me to bed for a week. Zapothechne told me not to stress about it. She asked what meds I was taking and any side effects before moving my track workout back and replacing hill repeats with an easy run.
I tried lacing up again once my symptoms calmed down, but each run was an ugly slog. My legs felt like lead, and anything faster than an easy pace gave me a nasty coughing fit. Day after day, the struggle wouldn’t let up, and I grew increasingly frustrated. After a miserable 18-miler I’d hated nearly every minute of, Zapotechne gave me a new perspective.
“Those kinds of runs can actually be the most helpful,” she told me. Persevering even when you’re tempted to quit is an essential skill for marathoners. She also pointed out two other wins on that long run that I’d overlooked: I’d tested the Adidas Adios Pro 3 shoes that I wanted to wear on race day and loved their bounciness, and tried Spring Energy Gels for the first time and found they worked well for my stomach. Even my “bad” runs were helping get me ready for race day.
I was eventually diagnosed with pneumonia, and later learned the radiologist thought I might have a partially-collapsed lung. Shortly after, I sprained a rib muscle from coughing so much. I asked the doctor if I should still be running. He told me to keep at it as long as I could breathe okay.
I was eventually diagnosed with pneumonia, and later learned the radiologist thought I might have a partially-collapsed lung. Then I sprained a rib muscle from coughing so much.
After seeing my notes about all this on the Google sheet we shared, Zapotechne was understandably worried. She wiped speed work off the schedule, added in extra rest days, and calmed me down with the kind of supportive kindness I’d never give myself. She even gave me easy-effort hill repeats so I could feel like I was getting in quality work without irritating my lungs.
It was the first time during a marathon build-up that I didn’t second-guess tweaks to the plan. If I were training on my own, I’d be beating myself up over how many runs I was missing. As my online running coach, however, Zapotechne was changing my schedule every week—not because I was lazy, but because she didn’t want me to run so hard that I set back my recovery.
The experience reframed for me what a training plan is: an ideal schedule to aim for, but one that’s written in pencil.
The experience reframed for me what a training plan is: an ideal schedule to aim for, but one that’s written in pencil.
“One of the joys of working with a coach is the opportunity to be flexible,” Zapotechne told me. “In a perfect world, you have a training plan and you nail all the workouts. But in the real world, having the opportunity to be able to adapt in real time is, I think, what makes for successful training.”
My original goal was no longer a reality. But with Zapotechne’s guidance, I could still make it to the finish line in a way I’d be proud of—and without becoming totally miserable along the way.
Finally, I started to feel better a couple weeks before the marathon. I excitedly hopped on our weekly call and told Zapotechne I planned to pace by feel on race day, and see if I could push it a little now that I’d stopped coughing. She gently talked me down, suggesting a more strategic approach.
“Everyone feels good during the first miles of a marathon,” she said. “And in Boston, you can easily run outside of your fitness in the first half because of all the downhills.” She recommended starting the first 10 miles at an 11-minute pace, and taking walk breaks at every water station.
“Right, smart,” I said, thinking that sounded terrible. I had never intentionally run that slowly during a marathon, and walk breaks felt like a way to lose all momentum.
I had never intentionally run that slowly during a marathon, and walk breaks felt like a way to lose all momentum.
“You might even walk up the Newton hills,” she added, referring to Heartbreak Hill and the three climbs that precede it. “I always tell my runners, ‘Just walk with purpose.’ And use walk breaks to mentally regroup.”
I nodded, but wasn’t sure whether I wanted to listen.
When we met in person at an Adidas event a couple nights before the race, I told Zapotechne that even though I was nowhere near PR shape, I’d never felt so prepared for a marathon before. She had given me all kinds of useful advice, including setting a regular alarm on my watch so I wouldn’t forget to eat gels, and drinking electrolytes the day before so I already had plenty in my system at the start.
Some of her suggestions were reminders of things I already knew, but would have forgotten, like to take epsom salt baths for recovery and to put my name on my race shirt so spectators could cheer it. Even a strategy like starting slowly and taking walk breaks is something that I know is sound advice, but I’ve always let my ego get in the way of actually making it happen.
The day of the marathon, the sun beat down hotter than it had all year, and even more intensely than the forecast had predicted. Aside from an overly-excited first mile, I stuck pretty close to that 11-minute pace. Zapotechne, who was also running, ended up coming behind me around mile 3 or 4.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Hot,” I answered. She reminded me to take breaks early and often, as she herself veered off to walk through a water station. “Save it for the second half,” she added.
Given the weather, the hilly course, and my less-than-ideal fitness, I knew she was right. So I listened. I walked through most of the water stations, and even slowed down for that ice pop on Heartbreak Hill. When my quads started to spasm in the later miles, I also walked into three different medical tents to get cups of chicken broth full of the sodium I was rapidly sweating out.
By the very end, I was running the fastest I ever had in a marathon. Even though my quads were howling, it felt amazing.
By following Zapotechne’s advice, I had enough energy left in me to pick up the pace over the last two miles, and give a finishing kick down Boylston street, the iconic final stretch. By the very end, I was running the fastest I ever had in a marathon. Even though my quads were howling, it felt amazing. This was exactly the kind of hard effort I’d wanted to give, and I was able to pull it off because I’d held back early on.
Zapotechne sent me a message after the race saying she was proud of me for “running smart.” It was something I truly wouldn’t have done without an online running coach there to get me out of my own way.
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