Every marathon training schedule should include a number of shorter races. Ideally, there should be a 5k early on, then maybe a 10k, and a half marathon about 4 weeks before your target race. It doesn't have to be exactly like that, though. If there are races within your vicinity of slightly different distances, then participating in them will still be beneficial. Taking part in a race will get you used to the atmosphere, and the organisation of a race in general. It might teach you how to drink from a cup, or how to pace yourself correctly. Most of all, a race is always a great workout. I don't know about you, but I can always run faster and at higher intensity if there is a number pinned to my chest.

That's the thing about running: your greatest runs are rarely measured by racing success. They are moments in time when running allows you to see how wonderful your life is.

Running has the potential to significantly increase your life span and to impact positively the quality of your life. It's not so much the running of a race that affects your health, but the lifestyle changes that often accompany the commitment to run.

To become a successful runner, you need to: (1) follow a proper diet, (2) eliminate extra body fat, (3) refrain from smoking and avoid heavy drinking, (4) get adequate sleep, and (5) exercise regularly. Epidemiologists believe that the proper combination of diet and exercise plus preventative health maintenance can extend life by as much as six to nine years!

For the most part, we exist in a numb, dead society. I'm doing my best to be alive and running in the mountains is the best way I've found to do that. And because I love the effortlessness that sometimes occurs while cruising down a cushy pine-needle singletrack or even while grinding up a switchback above tree line. I love how I can run up and into a mountain cirque or over a pass and be completely dwarfed and humbled by the sheer immensity and grandiosity of the landscape and I love flying down the other side with the breeze in my hair and the gravel in my shoes and the burning in my quads and the branches in my face and then when I'm finally all worn out there's nothing like peeling my shoes off and just sitting. Just being at rest. Running sharpens the focus on life and intensifies the emotions. Is there any better reason to do anything?

The ability to continue when training gets difficult is the greatest opportunity to grow as an athlete and a human being. If you can find the right encouragement within you during a tough moment, you're giving yourself a vital tool to accomplish many great things. Sometimes the same verse can get stale, so I think it's important to keep mantras fresh and effective. That being said, the most significant words my coach Terrence Mahon ever told me was as I was heading to the starting line of the Chicago Marathon in 2005. My goal was to win the race, and my training had gone very well. He is a guy of many words and on this day he simply said 'Define yourself.' It was such a powerful statement and I rehearsed it a million times on the streets of Chicago that morning—and got my first marathon win.

Be quiet and effective, actions speak louder than words and results speak for themselves. Be a runner, don't talk about being one.

Those who run long are not freaks of nature. We are not a handful of chosen ones blessed with indefatigable muscle and indestructible cartilage. Nor do we have indomitable willpower that others lack. If anything sets us apart it is a kind of sensitivity. We can hear a faint chord vibrating on old and brittle strings. It begins to resonate through us when we rise predawn for a morning run. The sound builds the longer we stay at it. On a long run through the mountains our attention becomes focused, in tune, automatic. Each footfall and each breath synchronized with a primal tune. Ours is a re-creation of once necessary dispositions.

It is one of the strange ironies of this strange life that those who work the hardest, who subject themselves to the strictest discipline, who give up certain pleasurable things in order to achieve a goal, are the happiest. When you see 20 or 30 people line up for a distance race in some meet, don't pity them, don't feel sorry for them. Better envy them instead.

Just as you write down other important appointments, you need to literally pencil in time for your run. The process itself is empowering. In the few seconds it takes to scribble 'run' into a time slot, you make running a part of your life.

Anything, any adversity, has to be a source of motivation. And I've always been able to do that. If anybody says I can't do it, I end up doin' it. Because I don't like to be told that. Even a failure in a race, a major race, whatever, I always regroup, focus on what I did wrong or what I didn't do wrong and move forward again.

I run with my head, my heart and my guts, because physically, I don't think I've got a great deal of talent or ability. I started at the bottom and worked up.

If I am still standing at the end of the race, hit me with a board and knock me down, because that means I didn't run hard enough.

All runners announce their entry into the sport with the most basic athletic action: a step. A simple foot plant that leads to thousands upon millions more: some faster, some slower; at home and around the world; in sun, blizzard and driving rain; on pavement, dirt, mud, gravel, sand, loam, grass, oval all-weather tracks with eight lanes that measure exactly 400 meters around, and freshly scrubbed Pamplona cobblestones. A splendid step, a quiet step, a lonely step; born of some inner dialogue, some longing to be different, to be – not the best – but at least better. The step takes less than a second. Doubts are silenced in that whisper of time. Lives are changed…

Running has taken me on adventures great and small, at home and around the world. It has provided me with hope and perseverance on days when I had none – and even, once every great while, warmed me with that fleeting ray of sunshine known as glory. Running has taught me that I can do anything, just so long as I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes that notion is metaphorical and sometimes not. In this way, I have been inspired to attempt things I would have never dreamed possible.

And it all started with a single step.

What distinguishes those of us at the starting line from those of us on the couch is that we learn through running to take what the days gives us, what our body will allow us, and what our will can tolerate.

On days you don't feel like running at all, tell yourself you are just going to jog around the block. Then go do it. Nine times out of 10, those few minutes of movement will be enough to kick you into gear, and you will want to keep going. And that one time out of 10? Hey, at least you've run one block. Which is one block more than most folks will run that day.

To fail is not to be a failure.  It merely means you had the balls to try.

I AM A RUNNER because my runs have names. I do tempo runs and threshold runs and fartlek runs. I do long, slow runs and track workouts. My runs are defined, even if my abs are not. 

I AM A RUNNER because my shoes are training equipment, not a fashion statement. The best shoe for me is the one that makes me a better runner. I choose the shoe that goes with my running mechanics, not my running outfit. 

I AM A RUNNER because I don't have running outfits. I have technical shirts and shorts and socks. I have apparel that enhances the experience of running by allowing me to run comfortably. I can say Coolmax and Gore-Tex in the same sentence and know which does what.

I AM A RUNNER because I know what effort feels like, and I embrace it. I know when I'm pushing the limits of my comfort and why I'm doing it. I know that heavy breathing and an accelerated heart rate–things I once avoided–are necessary if I want to be a better runner.

I AM A RUNNER because I value and respect my body. It will whisper to me when I've done too much. And if I choose to listen to that whisper, my body won't have to scream in pain later on. 

I AM A RUNNER because I am willing to lay it all on the line. I know that every finish line has the potential to lift my spirits to new highs or devastate me, yet I line up anyway. 

I AM A RUNNER because I know that despite my best efforts, I will always want more from myself. I will always want to know my limits so that I can exceed them. 

I AM A RUNNER because I run. Not because I run fast. Not because I run far. 

I AM A RUNNER because I say I am. And no one can tell me I'm not. 

Runners will always get hurt. Almost all running injuries result from repetitive stress, and runners are stubborn and quite good at overstressing their bodies. As long as we continue to overtrain and push ourselves to the limit in our workouts and races, we are bound to succumb to an injury at some point. Being smart in your training and respecting your limits are probably the two things most likely to reduce your risk of getting hurt.

The marathoner by nature is a risk taker; more interested in functioning within the eye of the storm than outside of it. It is within the storm that they can challenge themselves to run where few dare to venture. Others steer clear of the storm, afraid to explore. The intrepid don't, or won't, run because it is too hot, or too cold. They need family time or private time at the house. They need to rest their weary legs or save their fresh legs; let blisters die down or avoid new blisters. Too early, too late, too wet, too dry, too many carbohydrates, too few, full moon, half moon, can't run on days that end with the letter Y, etc.

Maybe it's the endorphins, or maybe it's just in the true runner's nature to run toward the storm. Perhaps the marathoner simply knows that the answers lie there. With head down and resolve in his or her heart, the runner keeps putting one foot in front of the other. Into the storm.

The first person you have to inspire every day is yourself. Running will do that. We're all terrible at something. Why not make up for it with a strenuous, completely unrelated activity? When you're nothing but a slob at the desk, you can instantly turn yourself around with a quick run. I've never been in a ditch so low that a run wouldn't pop me out of it. There are no shadings in this. Every run makes you fantastic.

'If it's not fun, it's not worth doing it.' My dad used to always tell me this before races growing up. I used to put an incredible amount of pressure on myself before races and workouts, to the point that I wasn't enjoying myself anymore. This simple reminder has stuck with me to the start line of two Olympic marathons. It is often the last thing I think before the gun fires. I have to remind myself to not take myself so seriously. This is just sport after all, and the point of sport is to have fun.

You've got to have the confidence in yourself where you believe that you can take those days off and you can recover and you can run great. A lot of what we see in athletes that just train all the time and never give themselves adequate recovery is often portrayed as toughness. What I've realized over the years is it really is a weakness. It's an insecurity that you're not good enough to recover like other athletes: I'm not good enough to do that; I need to keep training; I can''t take time off; I can't take easy days.