Strength, Fatigue, and Forty-Two Kilometers


On December 14, 2025, I crossed the finish line of the BMW Dallas
Marathon – my first full-length marathon – in 5 hours and 26
minutes. Not a competitive time, not a dramatic breakthrough, but a
deeply personal milestone: I wanted to run 40 kilometers before
turning 40, and I did it.

What began in
Canadian-level frigidity – the kind of cold that reminds me why I
moved to Texas in the first place – quickly turned into a math game
that was equal parts mental and physical. By kilometer 30, it was
down to “Just make it to that lamppost up there,” because
thinking about the remaining 12 kilometers felt insurmountable. The
icy wind cut straight through my too-thin, southern layers, which
clung to my back as the afternoon heat bounced off the pavement when
the sun finally decided to show up. By the last mile, every step
vibrated up into my teeth, and nothing – absolutely nothing
– compares to the sense of relief that comes with finally crossing
the finish line.

What makes this
relevant to Starting Strength isn’t the distance, but the method.
This experience convinced me that strength training and marathon
preparation are not competing priorities. They’re interdependent
when you understand how to manage training stress.


I didn’t train for this marathon the way most runners do. I didn’t
run five days a week. I didn’t log 40-mile weeks. I didn’t follow
a traditional endurance training plan at all.

Instead, I trained
through the lens of the Two-Factor Model of Sports Performance
the same model that Starting Strength uses to describe how athletes
improve in any sport: by driving long-term physical adaptation, while
managing short-term fatigue. This model applies to barbells. It
applies to swimming. It applies to combatives (including military
training). And yes, it applies to running 42 kilometers.

Yet in the Starting
Strength community, we often talk about running as if it sits outside
the laws of physiology. I have heard coaches warn novices not to run.
The inexperienced or unknowledgeable tell hobby runners they have to
pick one: get strong OR run. We treat endurance training as if it is
fundamentally incompatible with barbell training.

I think we can do
better than that. And more importantly, I think the model already
gives us the tools to do better. Running Isn’t the Problem.
Misapplied Advice Is.

Mark Rippetoe’s
article Why You Should Not Be Running is possibly one of the most
widely circulated pieces in the Starting Strength ecosystem – and
one of the most misapplied. The article is written for people whose
primary training goal is to get strong. Those trainees often add
excessive, unstructured running that interferes with recovery. In
that context, “stop running” is valid and appropriate.

But many newcomers and
inexperienced coaches take that advice as universal doctrine: If you
run at all, you can’t get strong. If you want to get strong, you
must stop running. That interpretation is too blunt for the real
world.

Years ago, in a
completely different context, I saw firsthand what happens when the
“don’t run” message gets stripped of nuance and applied as
universal law. An inexperienced “coach” confidently told me that
running was unnecessary, that it wouldn’t prepare me for the
physical demands of carrying 120 pounds of kit, and that strength
work alone would be sufficient. It wasn’t. The reality was that the
job still required the very skills that endurance training develops:
the ability to move under load, repeatedly, over distance, for time.

In hindsight, it wasn’t
the Starting Strength model that failed me; it was the way its ideas
were flattened into absolutes. That experience cemented something
important for me: athletes need models, not slogans, and endurance
athletes (recreational or otherwise) in particular need clarity about
how strength and running interact, not reflexive dismissal of one in
favor of the other.

The Two-Factor Model
provides that clarity. It explains when running helps, when it hurts,
how much is too much, and how strength training can enhance endurance
performance rather than compete with it.

What
I Actually Did: A Two-Run, Two-Lift Week

My training plan was
simple:

  • One long run every
    weekend, progressively extended from 10 kilometers to 28 kilometers
    (this was the longest run I did pre-race).
  • One short weekday
    run, focused on speed drills in the beginning, pacing practice
    towards the end.
  • Two lifting
    sessions per week following a rotating volume–intensity split.

The lifting template
was designed by my coach (and husband), Michael Jones, SSC, who
planned each phase of my lifting based on my injury history, recovery
capacity, and the constraints imposed by tearing a calf muscle in
August.

His programming for me
consisted of conjugate training for the squat, bench, and deadlift. I
trained volume early in the week, practicing the next coming maximal
effort event that occurred later in the week, notwithstanding my
deadlift. For the deadlift, I rack-pulled five doubles, heavy, with
minimal rest early in the week, followed by a maximal effort deadlift
variation later in the week. My coach did this to keep the stress
more manageable than what he suspected a volume deadlift workout
would produce, while still keeping force production high.

My press followed a
volume and intensity split. Intensity press was made up of a very
heavy maximal effort single followed by many back off singles within
5-10% of the heavier single; my volume oscillated between fives or
triples, really whatever was hot to strike for the day.

We used four variations
of each the squat, bench and deadlift because my running training
made me an “artificial late-intermediate/advanced strength
athlete.” We also took this liberality to keep stress lower than it
would have been with, say, two movement pattern variations. Here is a
visual of what my lift days looked like:

Week 1

  • Monday: Volume Squat,
    Volume Press
  • Thursday: ME Squat,
    Intensity Press

Week 2

  • Monday: Rack Pull 5×2,
    Volume Bench
  • Thursday: ME Deadlift,
    ME Bench

I was not reaching for
marathon PR territory, though I likely could have following this
method. I wasn’t peaking my lifts, though I did match some previous
PRs in bench and rack-pulls towards the end of the cycle. I wasn’t
chasing glory – just the ability to walk normally the day after the
race. My goal was sustainability: a model-driven approach to
completing a marathon without destroying my injury-prone body in the
process. And it worked.

Why
Less Running… Works

Traditional marathon
plans rely heavily on high mileage because they mistake activity for
productive stress. Running more does make you better, until the
fatigue becomes so chronic that it blunts adaptation.

The Two-Factor Model
breaks this down cleanly:

  1. Physical adaptation
    accumulates with training.
  2. Fatigue interferes
    with displaying physical adaptation in a testing event.
  3. Productive training
    balances both.

Most recreational
runners (myself included, not that long ago) drown in fatigue and
wonder why their endurance/speed/etc. isn’t improving. By contrast,
barbell training is a low-volume, high-intensity, high-adaptation
stressor. It allows athletes to maintain and even build force
production without accumulating the chronic fatigue induced by
excessive mileage.

This matters because
running economy – how efficiently you move – is heavily
influenced by strength. Stronger athletes absorb and redirect force
better. They maintain posture longer. They resist mechanical collapse
under fatigue. They get hurt less. Lifting made me a more durable
runner.

And because I wasn’t
constantly exhausted, every run had training value. There was one
weekday run – a short 6km after a rough shift at work – where my
legs felt like someone had poured wet cement into them. A year ago, I
would have pushed harder and called it discipline. This time, I cut
the run short, ate dinner, and slept. The next day, I hit my
intensity bench press PR. That’s the Two-Factor Model in real life:
you stop worshipping mileage and start training like an adult.

The
Injury Problem That Strength Solves

I have old military
injuries. Lower back. Right hip. Both ankles. I added a torn calf to
that cacophony of ailments in early August. If I had tried to follow
a four- or five-day running program with a torn calf, a busy family
and a full-time job, I would have broken down — not maybe,
definitely. Strength training changed that.

By driving force
production up and fatigue down, I created a physiological buffer that
allowed me to train with fewer miles, less wear and tear, and more
resilience
. I wasn’t just “fit enough to finish.” I was
strong enough to hold my form when it mattered most — in the last
10 kilometers, when the wheels come off for so many recreational
runners.

When I crossed the
finish line in downtown Dallas, I was tired, and emotional, but not
wrecked. I was proud, but not broken. I recovered faster than
expected. And – most importantly – I finished uninjured.

That alone makes the
model worth applying.

For
the “Pick One” Crowd

When someone walks into
a Starting Strength gym and says they want to run a marathon and get
strong, the response is often some version of:

  • “You can’t do
    both.”
  • “Pick a primary
    goal.”
  • “If you’re running,
    you’re sabotaging your lifts.”

The last one is true
under normal circumstances. And these platitudes are understandable —
beginners do need to prioritize. And poor programming can make
strength and running compete with each other.

But with the Two-Factor
Model, the decision doesn’t have to be binary. It’s a question of
intelligent stress management. You can get strong. You can run. You
just can’t pretend the laws of physiological adaptation don’t
apply. Strength and endurance rely on different biological systems,
but they’re not mutually exclusive – they just demand smarter
planning.

For
Coaches: A Path Forward

Coaches in the SS
community have an opportunity here. Instead of shutting down runners
or treating their sport as a moral failing (and potentially losing
clients!), we can:

  • Teach them the
    model
  • Keep their mileage
    productive, not excessive
  • Integrate lifting
    intelligently
  • Prevent injuries
  • Support
    bucket-list goals, military requirements, or nuanced life-needs
    without derision

This approach doesn’t
dilute Starting Strength – it expands its usefulness.
Strong runners are better runners. Strong humans are better athletes.
And endurance athletes who learn to train with intention become
better at everything they do.

If Running a Marathon
Is on Your Bucket List, do it. Don’t wait for permission. Don’t
assume you have to run 40 miles a week. Don’t assume you must
abandon strength training. Train for strength. Run intentionally. Use
the model. Manage fatigue. Work with a coach who understands both
strength and endurance demands.

I didn’t run this
marathon to win it. I ran it to prove something to myself, to honor
the endurance conditioning I loved during my military career, and to
challenge my body in a new way. And the truth is, I could not have
done it the way I did without the barbell.

Strength made the
difference. The model made it sustainable. And the combination made
forty-two kilometers not just possible, but meaningful.


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