A Year of Cyclical Running - What I Learned
Running. It’s something we do when we’re late or being chased. Or can it be fun? 🤔
I thought I was well past my running days.
Back in my late 20s and early 30s, I was completely running-obsessed. I’d run for miles and feel... enchanted, almost, by the fact that I could run.
Sometimes I’d run to the shops just because I could (and it was faster).
Then came the snowboarding injury (I’ll spare you the gory details), but my knee was never the same again. So, I hung up my running shoes and turned to other sweaty dopamine hits like HIIT, Body Pump, Yoga, and Pilates.
I didn’t think about running for a long time and genuinely didn’t miss it. I’d go for walks, see red-faced runners pounding the pavements, and feel quietly smug. I was strolling in the sun, not a bead of sweat in sight.
Plus, I walk fast, so fast that my partner and I have a long-running debate that goes: “Do you want to walk with me, or shall I just go home?”
Anyway. I felt like walking ticked the box.
The Conversation That Got Me Running Again
Just after Christmas last year, I went to a family gathering and got chatting to my cousin’s girlfriend, who looked bloody fabulous and had this amazing glow. She said she’d started running.
“Oh,” I said, internally rolling my eyes. Of course, it was running. I was immediately disinterested.
Then she added, “I set myself a goal of running 50 times in a year.”
Oh? Fifty? Quick bit of girl math in my head... that’s one a week.
Once a week sounded… doable. She did look amazing.... Maybe I could give it a go too?
“I’ll follow you on Strava,” I said. And just like that, a new desire to pick up my running shoes was born.
I’m as surprised as you are.
A couple of days later, I dug out my gym gear, found my most supportive trainers, and hit my favourite town path running route.
Twenty minutes in, I was sure I was dying. My lungs felt like they were bleeding, and my hip flexors were insulted.
I was baffled that I was this exhausted considering I walk 5 miles a day, do strength training, functional movement work, and I surf!
I passed a happy dog walker and thought, I must look like one of the sweaty red-faced people.
But I didn’t stop (of course I didn’t). I ran until I couldn't move my legs anymore and crawled home. But my knee didn’t hurt, and that felt like a win.
Posting my first run on Strava made me feel proud, a little excited even. So I made the executive decision to do 52 runs, one for every week of the year.
Making It Cyclical
Now you know me, I’m no stranger to a cyclical practice. So naturally, I started designing a running routine that worked with my cycle.
I looked into interval training (short bursts of running followed by walking), and it seemed like a solid way to build stamina.
I asked ChatGPT (obvs) how to restart running after a long break, and it suggested starting with 1 min running / 1 min walking, then increasing to 2:1 the following week.
Seemed sensible. So that’s what I did.
Then I made it cyclical.
Here’s how it looked:
-
Menstruation: 1 min run / 1 min walk (but not on the first three days of bleeding. Because, no. Just no.)
-
Pre-ovulation: 2 min run / 1 min walk
-
Ovulation: 3 min run / 1 min walk
-
Premenstruation: Back to 2 min run / 1 min walk
For any OGs here, you’ll remember Root & Rise, my cyclical yoga membership. This felt like coming full circle, back to that cyclical movement mindset. On non-run days, I just walked. Slow(ish) and present. Lovely!
Leveling Up
A few months in, I got used to the routine and started wondering if I could push a bit. I was visiting a friend and wanted to keep up the routine, but her local path was 5 miles long, which seemed adventurous compared to my 3.5-mile route.
But I thought, sod it, and tried it in 2:1 intervals.
I did it!
I was amazed. Also sweaty (and very regretful I didn't bring water), but proud.
So I adjusted...
-
Menstruation: stayed at 1:1
-
Pre-ovulation & Premenstruation: 3:1
-
Ovulation: 5:1, which I thought might be too much, but turned out OK.
🧠Science Snack
Interval training isn’t just a “gentler” way to run, it’s more effective for many people. Research shows that alternating bursts of effort with recovery periods improves cardiovascular health, boosts endurance, and is kinder to joints and muscles.
One study found that interval training can improve aerobic capacity faster than steady-state cardio, especially for beginners or those returning after a break. Aaaaaaaand you’re less likely to get bored!
Avoiding the All-or-Nothing Trap
I’ve been called “Competitive Samantha” for a reason. I’ve always said I’m all-or-nothing, and now that I understand my neurodivergence, this makes complete sense.
I’ve ruined many movement routines by going too hard. Take swimming, I loved it... until I became obsessed with improving. Got my mile time down to under 30 mins. Then kept trying to beat it until I hated it and stopped altogether.
So this time, I promised myself I wouldn’t ruin it.
And I think the key was making it cyclical.
I built in variety and permission to take it easy when needed. No white-knuckling it, just enough challenge to feel good without the burnout spiral.
Building Sustainability
Then I realised I hadn’t factored holidays into my 52-run goal. Whoops.
So I’d need a few double-run weeks.
I tried it and immediately knew I needed more than a day’s rest between runs. So I spaced them out to Mondays and Thursdays and stuck with my seasonal pattern.
After another cycle, I realised I could do it.
My lungs weren’t bleeding. My hips weren’t screaming. And most surprisingly, my knee still didn’t hurt.
I’d given myself some hard boundaries too... no run should ever take more than an hour.
I stick to my limit even when my brain whispers “But you could go further,” because I know if it creeps beyond that, I'll stop doing it because I can't fit it into my life anymore.
The Results
So here we are. It’s November. I’m on run 63 of 52. I’ve smashed my goal, and more importantly, I haven’t created a movement practice I now hate but feel guilted into continuing.
I didn’t turn it into a punishment. I just built a sustainable movement practice.
No, I can't say anything radical like I’ve lost a dress size.
But I’ve noticed my clothes fit differently. I like how I look in them, and I feel better in myself.
I'm not trapped in a body that can’t do what I want. Instead, I feel capable, strong-ish, and like me again.
This was never about weight loss. I’m not trying to be a size 10 at 44. Not if I want to keep eating cake. Which I do... always.
As someone who spent their 20s in the grip of disordered eating, this was about making a movement practice for joy, strength, and freedom in my body.
Movement for Joy, Not Punishment
If I’d gone into this for weight loss, I’d have been obsessing over measurements, calories, and scales. And probably given up by March.
Yes, I’m still wearing the same size trousers I wore in January. But they look better, I feel better, and I’m not a prisoner in my own body.
Winning.
So now I run.
I am, officially, one of those sweaty, grimaced, neon-clad weirdos you see at 6:30am. But every run feels a little easier, and I’ve found something I actually want to keep doing.
If you’ve been thinking about movement, anything from daylight walks for vitamin D to an evening swim or a new gym class, I invite you to check in with your why.
What’s the motivation?
And how could you make it cyclical?
Because we are not built to do the same thing, the same way, every day, especially when it comes to moving our bodies.
There are always going to be days when you don’t want to do the sweaty thing. And that’s OK. But when we skip it, we tend to guilt spiral, then abandon it entirely.
Whereas cyclical movement builds in the ebb and flow, and that creates space for softness, challenge, and sustainability.
Here’s to getting sweaty!