Race Day Habits That Hold Runners Back
After watching hundreds of runners this weekend, a few things were impossible to ignore.
I was out at the Long Beach Marathon this weekend, cheering on a few runners I coach.
Perfect weather, big turnout, and tons of energy from the community. It’s always fun to watch—thousands of people chasing their own finish lines.
But as I stood there, I started noticing the same patterns I’ve seen at every race.
Bright tape on knees. Braces cinched tight. Cheap shoes that have seen better days. Bottles and belts bouncing around like science experiments. Runners blowing through mile eight like it’s a 5K… then paying for it by mile fifteen.
None of it shocked me. I’ve seen it all before. What hits different now is what those things mean.
Before I got deep into coaching, I thought all of that was just part of running—what you did to get through race day.
Now I know better. Those habits aren’t signs of preparation. They’re signs of lack of preparation.
And honestly, I can’t always say that’s the runner’s fault. Most of what the fitness world sells are band-aids dressed up as solutions—quick fixes that treat the symptom, not the system.
That’s what stood out most watching Long Beach this year—so many runners making race day harder than it has to be.
“You don’t rise to the level of your expectations; you fall to the level of your training.” — Archilochus
Tired of wondering if you’re actually training the right way for your race? Book your FREE Discovery Call and let’s talk about how coaching can help you show up prepared—stronger and ready for race day.
False Security Isn’t Preparation
At Long Beach, I saw the same thing I see at every race—runners covered in gear that’s supposed to “help.”
Tape stretched across knees and shoulders. Braces cinched tight around joints that have seen better days. Those small patellar straps sitting under the kneecap, pressing on a tendon that’s already inflamed.
Different tools, same story.
Tape usually means there’s pain or a weak joint someone’s trying to stabilize. It feels supportive, but the evidence behind it is thin. A Sports Medicine review found little proof that kinesio tape reduces pain or offers real structural support (PubMed, 2013). It might give you a bit of body awareness—but it doesn’t fix what’s underneath.
Braces tell a similar story. They’re sold as “support,” but often take over the job that strong hips, glutes, and quads should already be doing. Over-reliance can even reduce stabilizing muscle activity over time (Riverside Sports Therapy, 2025). A brace can keep you moving with an injury, but it rarely helps you fully heal.
Patellar strap—that small band below the knee—usually means the tendon’s irritated and the runner’s hoping a bit of pressure will quiet it down. Sometimes it does, but only temporarily. Too much load, not enough recovery, and weak supporting muscles will keep that pain coming back.
In every case, these fixes point to the same thing: going into race day less than 100 percent.
Maybe it’s a late-training injury, but more often it’s a lack of time spent on foundational strength and progressive distance work—the slow, unglamorous prep that actually keeps your body ready.
None of this gear makes you stronger. It just makes it easier to ignore the warning signs—and those signs usually point to a high risk of injury in a long race like a marathon.
Smart, consistent training builds the support all that tape and bracing only pretend to give you.
Tools Don’t Replace Training
Every race I watch, I see runners carrying enough gear to survive a week in the desert.
Fuel belts packed with bottles. Hydration reservoirs for a flat city course. Phones strapped to arms, extra gels stuffed in their pockets.
The idea makes sense: be prepared for anything.
But what usually happens is the opposite. Instead of simplifying race day, all that gear adds friction. Belts bounce, straps rub, bottles shift your stride, and by mile five you’re fighting distractions that have nothing to do with running.
I watched plenty of runners struggling with it at Long Beach. Adjusting belts. Pulling at sleeves. Fiddling with straps that wouldn’t sit right. The more they tried to “manage” their setup, the less focus they had for the race itself.
Your gear should disappear once the running starts.
That means shoes that don’t rub, shorts that don’t chafe, bottles that don’t bounce, and fuel that feels familiar. Everything you wear or carry should’ve been tested, adjusted, and practiced long before race day.
The best setup is the one you barely notice.
Pacing Is a Skill, Not a Guess
By mile eight, you can spot the ones who went out too hot. They’re still moving, but the rhythm’s gone.
Form starts to fade, and the pace that felt “comfortable” at the start now feels a lot harder to hold.
I saw a lot of that at Long Beach—runners flying through the first half like it was a 10K, only to hit the wall hard before mile twenty. You can see it in the way they carry themselves. It’s not a purposeful, strategic walk—it’s a head-down, out-of-the-game kind of shamble.
Good pacing isn’t instinct. It’s practice.
You learn it during training—on long runs where you figure out what sustainable actually feels like. You learn how to settle in, hold back early, and let the effort come to you instead of forcing it.
That’s the part most runners skip. They focus on mileage, gear, and finish-line splits—but not on feel. They don’t know what “too fast” feels like until it’s too late.
The marathon doesn’t reward enthusiasm. It rewards patience.
The runners who look calm early are the ones still moving strong at the end. Pacing isn’t about holding back—it’s about knowing yourself well enough to stay in control to go the distance.
That’s what real preparation looks like.
Watching the Long Beach Marathon reminded me that most runners don’t need more gear or gimmicks—they need better preparation in training.
Every tape job, every brace, every overstuffed belt is a sign of someone trying to fix something they could’ve built ahead of time.
Real readiness isn’t flashy. It’s quiet.
It’s the miles you stacked when no one was watching, the strength work you didn’t skip, and the discipline to run your plan instead of your nerves.
Because the marathon doesn’t care how much gear you wear or what kind of band-aids you use—it only reflects how well you trained.
So what part of your own training could you focus on to make race day feel easier, not harder?