David Dack

Charts are useful for perspective.

They’re terrible judges of effort.

So I’m genuinely curious.

When you hear "impressive 10K" what does that actually mean to you.

Is it 50:00. sub 40??

#running #10k

A 50:00 10K can be impressive if it reflects consistent training.

If it’s a big step forward from where you started.
If it fits your age, your history, your injuries, and your actual life outside running.

And if you ran it with control instead of barely surviving it.

And people stop enjoying milestones they chased for months, sometimes years.

I don’t love that.

Here’s how I think about it, as a coach, and just as a runner who’s been there.

Impressive shouldn’t be decided by a chart. It should be decided by context.

And that disconnect is what messes with people.

Because when charts and labels take over, weird stuff happens:

You start questioning progress you had to earn.

Pride turns into "yeah, but..." Effort starts feeling smaller because it doesn’t sound impressive enough.

And yet if you go online and look at those classifications, a 50:00 10K for an 18 to 39 year old guy gets labeled "Novice" a lot of the time.

Intermediate doesn’t show up until around 41 or 42 minutes.

But I also remember this other feeling right after... like, okay cool, but is it actually good though.

On paper, the average 10K is around 1:02.

So 50:00 is clearly above average. That part is real.

(Rant Thread)

A lot of runners quietly wonder if a 50 minute 10K is actually impressive.

And before anyone jumps in, yes, it takes work.

I was honestly over the moon when I ran my first 50:00...

You might actually be the honest one in the room.
So ... What marathon time do you say you want?
and what time do you think you’d run if the marathon took everything from you and didn’t give it back?

They fail because they picked a number that makes them feel like a runner… not a number they can actually survive.

And before anyone twists that, if you’re in the left columns you’re not less. at all.

You can “have the pace” and still fall apart because you didn’t have the durability for it.

And here’s the part that’s gonna annoy some people but I think it’s true Some runners don’t fail the marathon because they’re weak.

But the marathon doesn’t care that the number looks tidy.

You can be fit and still blow up because you fueled like an idiot. You can run great workouts and still get cooked by heat and humidity.

And I’m not trying to be mean here. I’m saying this because I’ve watched people get hurt by it.

Sometimes pace charts become a comfort blanket.

Like if the number exists on a graphic, then it must be reachable. like it’s sitting there waiting for you.

Also… this thing people do where they take their half pace and copy paste it into a full. “If I could just run my half pace for a full I’d do 2:55”

Yeah and if I could hold my 5K pace for 26 miles I’d be on TV.

That’s not a plan. that’s a fantasy with a calculator.

The marathon does not care what you call yourself.

It only cares what happens when your legs go empty and your brain starts negotiating with you like “ok just get to the next cone… ok just walk 20 seconds… ok just don’t stop.”

And then of course someone says it. they always say it.

“Hobby joggers use the left columns. runners use the right.”

I hate that line. I really do. It’s the same vibe as “real runners don’t walk” and it’s typed by someone who hasn’t had mile 20 grab them by the throat

Some people see it and go “makes it look so easy” and other people go “cool.

another reminder I’m never qualifying for Boston” or “I’m discouraged now”

That’s not really about pace. that’s about who you think you are as a runner.

And if you’ve never been deep in a marathon, you read that and think ok so it’s just discipline.

just hold the number.

But that’s not what happens.

The uncomfortable part is the chart doesn’t just show numbers. it kinda ranks people. quietly.

(Thread)

That marathon pace chart is useful

but it also kinda messes with people. like… more than we admit.

Because it makes the marathon look like a clean math problem.

Pick a time. Find the pace. Repeat it 26 times...

Stop calling every decent marathon “elite.”
Elite starts around:
Men <2:15
Women <2:30

Sub-elite starts around:
Men <2:35
Women <2:45

Front pack is more like:

Men <3:00
Women <3:10
If this annoys you… you might be proving the point.

#running

Want controlled intervals without traffic?

Treadmill.

Smart runners use both without guilt.

And if anyone tries to shame you for treadmill running?

They’re not your coach.

They’re just loud.

#running

5. Don’t turn it into a treadmill vs outdoor identity war

This isn’t a purity contest.

Treadmill is a tool. Outside is a tool.

Weather good? Go outside.

Weather trash? Use the treadmill.

Short on time? Treadmill.

Need race practice? Outside.

Run to the next lamp post, walk 60 seconds.
Or use a timer:

Run 1 minute, walk 1–2 minutes.

You’re learning outdoor pacing. That’s a skill.

4. Walk breaks are smart (and I’m not negotiating on this)

Walking is not failure.

Walk breaks teach control.

They keep your heart rate honest.

They prevent that early blow-up where your run turns into a survival shuffle.

Use landmarks:

3. Pick the route that makes you feel calm

Flat. Safe. Predictable.

Park loop. Track. Quiet neighborhood.

Avoid:

hills
busy roads
constant stoplights
sketchy sidewalks

New runners don’t need “character building.”

They need consistency building.

Run 1 mile outside, go home, finish the session on the treadmill.

A few weeks later they didn’t need the treadmill anymore.

That’s how it works. Small wins stack.

2. Start short and build confidence

Don’t take your 30-minute treadmill habit and slam it straight into outdoors.

Start with 10–20 minutes outside.

Simple loop. Close to home. No drama.

I’ve seen runners who did this:

Don’t chase treadmill numbers outside.

Chase effort.

If you’re breathing hard and forcing pace, you’re doing it wrong.

Go slower. Let the body adapt.

1. Lower your expectations (for a few weeks)

Your pace will probably be slower outdoors.

If you’re used to 10:00/mile on the treadmill, outdoors might be 11:00 or 12:00.

That is not failure. It’s physics.

The belt doesn’t carry you.

The air pushes back. The ground isn’t perfect. Your pacing isn’t automatic.

So if your first outdoor run feels like you’re dragging a backpack full of bricks… welcome.

That’s normal.

Here’s how to transition without freaking out and quitting.

If you’ve been running on the treadmill and you’re ready to go outside… good.

Just don’t expect it to feel the same.

Outside isn’t “harder because you’re weak.”

Outside is harder because it’s real.