Confessions Of A Half-Marathoner: The Truth About Breaking Pace

Race day was a delightfully fall-ish temperature. The kind I’d prayed for with a “pretty please, God?” The sun was slipping over the horizon right at gun time. Nearly 400 half-marathoners set out for the hilly, country-side course with fog lying heavy over fields and horses frolicking on the other side of fences.

Every detail was perfect, except me. I knew I’d come underprepared.

Harder Than Running for a Half-Marathoner

Two months ago I ran a practice 13.1 miles, doubling up on parts of my regular running route to get the distance of a half marathon. The temperature dip that day meant I wasn’t wearing out as fast, and on a whim, I’d added a few more miles to my goal of 10.

I had every intention of overtraining for the Iron Horse Half Marathon. Hoped to shave off fifteen minutes and get my time under two hours. So I varied my training, ran faster up the hills, ran a few shorter, local races.

But between my practice run and race day were bouts of sickness and forced rest due to injury. I thought I’d bounce back to the stamina I’d built, but I didn’t. Walking breaks became routine as I couldn’t make it more than a few miles at a time without slowing down for a spell.

Did the stretches I walked mess with my pace averages? Indeed. And my pride? That too. But honestly, relaxing my perfectionism was good for me. Maybe it was even harder than the running itself.

Your Permission Slip

You might find yourself in a similar situation, caught between what you think you should be able to do, and what you can, at this moment, achieve. Between the voice in your head that says slowing down is shameful and the kind tone you’d use to encourage anyone besides yourself.

So until you have the courage to tell this to yourself, here is permission to break pace. Do solid B work. Set a boundary. Begin something brand new.

So until you have the courage to tell this to yourself, here is permission to break pace quote by Twyla Franz.

Permission to be the kind of person who is proud of her hard work, even when it doesn’t work out how you’d hoped at the end.

Permission to rest as long as you need to recover.

Permission to pause for sunrises (or sunsets). To smile on cloudy days. To walk in the rain.

Permission to laugh unapologetically and forgive freely (yes, even yourself).

Permission to reward yourself for what used to come easily.

Permission to get stronger slowly.

Permission to keep personal records behind you.

“Permission,” as Jennifer Dukes Lee says, “to be un-spectacular.”

Breaking Pace

For rigid perfectionists, letting go of the pace might feel like prying stubborn fingers from a non-negotiable. It might sound unfathomable. But I’m here to say that there is freedom to be found in the surrender.

It takes an extra brave soul to shift strategy mid-stride. To slow down to regain strength. To set a new personal record in self-compassion. To ask for (and accept) help. To be diligent without becoming consumed with the end result.

Finishing well can be walking away from an unrealistic, self-set goal and into grace. Growth often means going against your grain, even when it looks underwhelming to an outside eye.

Growth often means going against your grain, even when it looks underwhelming to an outside eye. (Twyla Franz quote)

I’ve seen this against-the-grain growth in my daughter’s hair, smoothed into place after school with a care-free air when she used to sleep with it ballet-perfect (and doused in hairspray) the night before so she wouldn’t be stressed before practice.

I’ve seen it in a friend who listened to her body, made time to rest, and ran a half-marathon instead of the full she’d trained for.

And I’ve wrestled for it in little and big ways–like letting myself circle back to my journal when I’ve run out of time, leaving something alone until the next day, keeping my laptop closed during vacation.

Because this is the perfectionist’s battle: to let our best be enough. To let our work flow from our rest. To show up imperfect and honest.

The truth about breaking pace is that it turns you toward the mirror, to face the lies you’ve internalized: That it’s not good enough if you don’t outperform yourself. That the race doesn’t count if you don’t run the whole time. That slowing down is letting yourself down.

Let’s Walk It Out Together

What area in your life do you need to break your pace? Maybe it’s not a race clocked in kilometers but a project at work, an impression you’re trying to upkeep, or something you’re constantly grading yourself on. It might even be a good, God-honoring thing that’s become imbalanced–more about you than God and the people right in front of you.

Here are a few questions to talk over with Jesus as you process:

Are you feeling anxious? Overwhelmed? Weary? Numb? Irritable? Defeated?

When was the last time you genuinely rested?

Where are you feeling pressure to outperform yourself or keep up appearances?

Is the pace you’re keeping pushing God away? What about other people?

This is tender work, I know. But also healing, hope-filled, worth-while work. Lean in.

You were never meant to live in a pressure cooker. You can let your breath out slow and inhale grace. You’re not failing when you rest, when you put people ahead of to-do’s, or when you give God uninhibited access to your heart. You’re shining beautifully and boldly for Him.

You were never meant to live in a pressure cooker quote by Twyla Franz

May I pray for you?

Jesus, be near. Near when we feel like we have to do more, move faster, stay up later to finish, or convince others we have it all together. Overwhelm us with Your unending grace. With Your help, may we break pace in the places of our lives where lies have settled in. We’re not letting You down when we drop unfair pressure we’ve put on ourselves and step into Your rest.

Give us courage to squelch our pride and slow our steps when our pace prohibits the good work You want to do in and through us,

In the holy name of Jesus we pray. Amen.

Just a friend over here in your corner,