why is it so hard to rest? (CIM Build Up Series: 6 weeks out)
Sand Flats Resting
screeching halt
Six weeks out from CIM, I was planning to write about the mental side of marathon prep—staying focused on long runs, practicing visualization, managing anxiety, and building the confidence and resilience to handle whatever race day throws at me. I’d even scheduled my first session with a sports psychology coach, excited to map out a race-day plan and explore which of the mindset tools I use with clients might also help me.
Instead, here I am lying in bed, watching movies, sipping endless mugs of tea, and writing emails to clients I can’t meet with. Sick, voiceless, sore throat—and honestly, no idea where my running shoes even are right now. My son was sick last week, and I’d had a small concern about my own immune system since I’ve been riding that training line pretty hard—but I’d hoped I might be invincible. Clearly, I was not.
This unplanned training break has reminded me of something I’ve long known but still struggle to embody: I can handle the stress part of “stress plus rest” really well. I thrive on hard training, discovering new limits, and building momentum. But the rest part? That’s still a work in progress.
This cycle, I’ve tried to be more intentional about learning when to push and when to back off. When I’m training hard enough, I can finally start to look forward to easy or off days—but mentally, it still takes effort to remind myself that rest is actually rest. Slowing down, letting go, and allowing adaptation to happen without doing something else takes self-awareness, patience, and self-compassion. This sickness has forced me to practice exactly that.
Absorbing the Work
In my last post, I wrote about the balance between effort and recovery—the simple but hard-to-practice idea that progress depends on both. My workouts this cycle have been built around that principle, and now I’ve been handed a chance to truly live it.
I can choose to see this forced rest not as a setback, but as an opportunity for my body to absorb the work I’ve already done.
I’m chasing a big goal while raising two kids with busy schedules, working full-time, growing my practice with athletes, and sharing life with my husband—planning, laughing, and supporting each other along the way. That’s a lot—even when it’s all good. Maybe twenty years ago, I could get by on less sleep, less food, and less recovery—but not anymore. This season of life requires that I work hard and rest hard.
When Movement Stops
That’s the tricky part, though—if you’re reading this, chances are you don’t struggle with the stress part of the equation either. You’re good at pushing, working hard, and doing more. Endurance athletes, busy professionals, and people who care deeply about their goals rarely have trouble showing up.
It’s the rest part that feels uncomfortable. We tend to equate progress with effort, so slowing down can feel like losing ground. But recovery isn’t the absence of progress—it’s where real adaptation happens.
Research backs this up: when stress accumulates without enough recovery, the immune system weakens, injury risk rises, and the gains we’re chasing start to plateau. (My current annoying virus is a pretty tangible reminder.)
The harder part is being honest enough with ourselves to notice when we’re slipping out of balance. Fatigue, irritability, disrupted sleep, a lack of motivation—these are early signals that recovery isn’t keeping up with stress. Ignoring them doesn’t make us tougher or fitter; it just means our bodies will eventually make us stop on their own terms.
For me, living with my coach (and husband) means I can’t hide when I’m tired—he sees it before I admit it. That kind of honesty, both with others and ourselves, is uncomfortable but necessary. It keeps us grounded in what’s real, not what we wish were true.
This training cycle, with Mike’s continual reminders (he’s reminded me of this more times than I can count), I’ve started doing regular check-ins with myself—asking how I’m sleeping and eating, how my energy feels, and whether I’m truly recovering or just going through the motions. Those small acts of awareness remind me that rest isn’t passive—it’s an active part of training.
When I first noticed that I was getting sick—the night before a big workout—I even asked Mike to rewrite my schedule so I could move the long marathon-paced run I’d missed into this week. I didn’t want to skip it. That workout has always been a benchmark for me—one that both scares and excites me—and I felt confident I could finally nail it this cycle. It’s the kind of session that always leaves me with a new layer of belief in myself, which I didn’t want to miss.
So I kept negotiating, holding tightly to the idea of fitting it in somewhere. But Mike had to gently (and firmly) remind me to let it go, focus on healing, and trust that sticking to the plan without that workout would serve me better in the long run. It was hard to accept—because a big part of me still wanted control—but his bigger-picture perspective grounded me. Holding on too tightly rarely helps.
When things don’t go as planned, we have to stay flexible, listen to our bodies, and trust that adaptation is still happening—even when the plan changes.
The Mental Work of Letting Go
When life (or a virus) forces us to stop, we still have a choice. We can catastrophize—convincing ourselves that everything we’ve built is falling apart—or we can reframe, recognizing that recovery is a big part of the work. That’s how our bodies and minds absorb stress and come back stronger.
Maybe the real mental training doesn’t happen just when we push our limits—but when we learn to honor them.
final thoughts
If you’re in a forced pause right now—whether from illness, injury, or just life stepping in—I hope you can see it not as lost time, but as part of the process. The work is still happening, even when it looks like nothing is. Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is stop, listen, and trust that rest, too, is moving us forward.
If you’re not sure where to start, try checking in with yourself this week—notice your sleep, your mood, your motivation, and how your body feels before and after training. Sometimes the first step in recovery is simply noticing what’s really going on and letting that awareness guide your next choice.
And if you’re deep in peak marathon training season—maybe slow down on the social invites, keep the house a little less full of your kids’ friends, or at least up your Vitamin C. Your future self (and your immune system) will thank you. This is just a season, not forever, so make sure the sacrifices you’re making actually serve the bigger picture—and don’t be afraid to set boundaries when you need to.
Reflections on How You’re Resting
Whether you’re training for a marathon, leading a demanding team, parenting through chaos, or simply trying to keep up with life—rest isn’t a luxury; it’s a discipline. It’s what allows your body, mind, and relationships to sustain the effort you’re putting in.
In mental health, we might call this self-care, though that phrase never quite fits for me. It’s less about bubble baths and more about boundaries, awareness, and the courage to step back when your system says “enough.”
So this week, maybe take a moment to reflect:
Where in your life are you pushing hard—and where could you allow more recovery?
What does genuine rest look like for you right now (not what you think it should look like)?
And what might change if you trusted that pausing isn’t falling behind—but creating space to come back stronger?
Sometimes the best measure of strength isn’t how much we can hold—but how wisely we choose to set it down.
