Extraordinary Strides

Welcome to Taper Town: A Field Guide for Runners

• Christine Hetzel • Season 3 • Episode 56

Share episode

We take you on a satirical journey through Taper Town, a psychological landscape every runner visits during the final weeks before race day. Through humor and relatable anecdotes, we map the strange mental territory where reduced mileage creates increased anxiety.

• Exploring the "Weather Bureau" where runners obsessively check forecasts and compare contradicting weather apps
• Visiting the "Taper Diet Diner" where hunger is constant and every nutritional choice feels monumental
• Navigating "Phantom Injury Lane" where mysterious aches appear out of nowhere
• Surviving "Retail Row" with its panic-driven purchases of unnecessary gear
• Managing the "Domestic Affairs Department" where mood swings and cleaning frenzies reign
• Enduring the "Bureau of Unsolicited Advice" from non-runners
• Overthinking in the "Packing District" where lists multiply endlessly
• Confronting fears in the "Hall of Doubt" where training is second-guessed
• Finding solidarity in "Town Square" among fellow tapering runners

Grab your free Taper Town bingo card to track your taper madness! 

Have questions or want to chat? Send me a text!

Support the show

Join the newsletter list for updates, special offers, and exclusive behind-the-scenes content.

Join fellow pod and running enthusiasts at The Stride Collective community on Facebook or follow us on Instagram.

Speaker 1:

Welcome, my friends, to Taper Town, and this is a field guide to losing your mind gracefully. Of course, my friends, this is a place that every runner visits, but few truly survive without a little touch of madness. Hey friends, I'm Coach Christine, host of Extraordinary Strides, and I made it my mission to guide you through this wild, weird and wonderful corner of the entire running journey. If you've ever trained for a race and you already know that taper isn't just about mileage. There's some doubts, there's a little bit of drama, there's a whole lot of hunger, fans of injuries, weather stalking and so much more, including questioning every life choice you've ever made, oh, while your loved ones politely wonder if you have completely lost your ever-loving mind. That is what makes Taper Town so special. It's not just a physical place in your training, it's a shared mental neighborhood we all wander into, usually armed with a little bit too much pasta, definitely too many packing lists and way too much free time. This guidebook is part comedy, a little bit survival and 100% truth for anyone who's ever said why do I feel worse when I'm supposed to be feeling better? So let's grab your hydration bottle. Lace up your nerves instead of those laces, because we're going to take a long, winding tour of Taper Town together. Trust me, by the end you should be laughing at the madness. You'll recognize yourself in every single section of Tapertown map and maybe even embrace the chaos as proof that you are exactly where you're supposed to be. With that said, my friend, I want to welcome you to the arrival of Tapertown.

Speaker 1:

The entryway into Tapertown is deceptively calm. The air is a little thinner somehow, not from altitude, but the absence of endless mileage. You may even be celebrating. You're like yeah, I worked hard to get to Taper Town. I am here. The moment you step foot inside, there's like a gnawing itch in your legs that feel wrong. Too much rust, too little sweat. The roads are eerily quiet, paved with old training logs and discarded gel wrappers, as if the town is built entirely on the memories of long runs gone by. You know you arrived because time slows down. The runs that once devoured whole mornings are now replaced with short, sharp jogs that barely take the edge off your energy. And what once felt indulgent like sleeping in and sitting with a coffee instead of rushing to run, is suddenly a little suspish. You're like what is going on here? Every extra hour rest feels like it's a trap.

Speaker 1:

The locals, which are your fellow runners, shuffle through the streets muttering I'm losing my fitness, or they're online posting that. They clutch foam rollers like security blankets and they scan their reflections in storefront windows, frowning at perceived weight gain or phantom limps. Everyone has the same haunted look a mix of exhaustion, a little paranoia, like extras in a zombie film. The welcome sign is decorated with motivational mantras like trust the training, less is more, don't panic, but they flicker like neon lights in a storm, impossible to believe when your brain is certain that you're falling apart. Now. You've trained for months to earn your way here, yet no one in Taper Town ever really feels ready. That's the cruel irony. Your passport stamp reads Taper Madness, valid for 14 to 21 days, and from the moment you arrive, you begin counting down to your escape. So again, I'm glad to have you here along with me. We have officially gotten our passport stamps.

Speaker 1:

Let's learn a little bit more about town, shall we? Because one of the first places that you're going to want to definitely hang out at, or you will be hanging out at, is the Weather Bureau. The Weather Bureau is the grandest building in Taper Town and the busiest. It looks like a NASA headquarters, only, instead of tracking satellites, its walls are lined with massive screens projecting forecasts from every app known to humankind. The reason I giggle is because this is so 100% where I have been at the last couple of weeks my friends including with all my running and training partners, and so many of you that are getting ready for your own Taper Town visit. So it's always really exciting to know that we are not alone. But with the Weather Bureau, each screen is going to contradict the other and it's a kaleidoscope of doom. You can bank on that. On one wall, sunny skies and another, torrential rain. In the corner of Hurricane Warning Somewhere, I think I saw like 45 mile per hour runs or winds for the run, and runners are flocking here like pilgrims, each clutching their phones refreshing hourly, as if summoning some divine truth.

Speaker 1:

You know you've arrived when you open your weather app before you even check your text in the morning, and you know you're here when your screenshots folder contains more seven-day forecasts than family photos. Inside there's a thick hum of panic. Conversations sound like meteorology lectures. Well, if the dew point is 58, but the humidity is 70%, then with a 10 mile per hour wind, exactly. I start nervously comparing data like gamblers at a racetrack Everyone is convinced the weather will personally betray them, and them alone, and the staff of the Bureau. Well, they're tricky. They post hourly updates just to watch the crowd gasp and you'll hear someone groan it changed again, followed by a chorus of resigns, sighs.

Speaker 1:

The drama here isn't about what the forecast says. It's about what it could mean for your race, your pace and your entire existence. And yet the Weather Bureau is addictive. No runner leaves without coming back again and again and again, and it doesn't matter that you train through snow, rain, heat. Here in Taper Town, the weather becomes the villain in your own personal story.

Speaker 1:

Now, if you choose to maybe leave Weather Bureau for a little bit, you're going to get a little hungry, right? So let's take you down to the Taper Diet Diner. And the Taper Diet Diner. It's open all hours. Its neon sign is buzzing faintly because it says hungry again. Come on in. You know you're nearby because your stomach growls constantly, regardless of whether you just ate, and there may be even a little bit of a thought in your brain like I'm not even running that much anymore. Why am I still hungry all the time? But the smell of bread, pasta, pancakes wafts through the streets like a carb-scented fog luring you inside.

Speaker 1:

Inside, the booths are filled with jittery runners and healing plates of spaghetti while nervously scrolling their fueling blogs. The daily special is always the same indecision. Do you eat more carbs now? Do you save them for later? Is the banana too ripe? Is the bagel too dense? Is it going to make you feel too heavy? And every bite feels like it can make or break your race. The servers wear aprons that say don't try anything new. Yet the menu tempts you with exotic gels and untested sports drinks. I know a few of you are even potentially looking right now at adding some new gels or adding some new sports drinks to the mix before you get to your actual race.

Speaker 1:

Some patrons give in and they chase novelty flavors like birthday cake, electric goo. You know you're here when you buy it, try it and instantly regret it. There's a ritual here Everyone orders seconds and then thirds, and you justify by calling it glycogen storage, even when it's just boredom and anxiety disguised as hunger. You recognize the glazed look in your reflection, the one that says if I don't eat this bagel, I won't make it to mile 20. The diner is both comforting and chaotic, and it's the only place where eating pancakes at midnight feels like a training strategy Kinda is. I may have done the same thing myself. You know you've been in Taper Town too long when your grocery cart looks like you're hosting a middle school sleepover instead of running a marathon. But again, you're welcome to come on in and stay fueled, because you do have a lot of miles that you'll be running. However, let's be honest, this next one, this next part of town, is something that I think a lot of us tend to visit as well.

Speaker 1:

The medical center. Phantom Injury Lane is the shadiest street in Taper Town and at its center stands the medical center. It's not large, but the line at the door is always long. You'll know you're here when a new ache appears out of nowhere like hello, my knee yesterday on my easy run. What was that all about? Or an ankle twinge on a walk to the mailbox, or your sore hip after sitting on the couch inside the waiting room, buzzes with runners poking at shins and stretching hamstrings, each convinced they've sustained a career-ending injury, and the decor is minimal posters reminding you that rest is best, soreness is not the same as injury.

Speaker 1:

But no one really believes them. The doctors here are faceless and nameless, more like mirrors and physicians. They don't speak. They let you project your deepest fears and you ask will I make it to the starting line? And the silence feels like a diagnosis. You pull out your phone, you consult WebMD, which gleefully informs you that your mild foot ache is either tendonitis or terminal illness. But either way, you probably shouldn't make it to the race, which of course inserts a lot of panic in your heart. You know you've entered the medical center when you text your running group a panicked question. Does anyone know what it means if your knee clicks when you're breathing? You know you're deep in its halls when you suddenly swear, you've forgotten how to run at all. And the irony is that 99% of these injuries in Taper Town vanish as quickly as they appear. But you won't believe that until the gun goes off on race day. Until then, the medical center has you on speed dial. My friends, if you haven't checked into this yet, do you know? This is all satire. So if you truly are injured, maybe take yourself to a true medical center or medical doctor, but for now we're in Taper Town, where satire reigns supreme.

Speaker 1:

Now let's talk about the next one on this list, because I personally visited this area more than I generally would. I'm not sure specifically why I was so called to it, but I'm going to blame it on my training partner, because she sent me the text that got me going about it, and that is visiting Retail Row. Retail Row is the Vegas strip of Taper Town. There's bright lights, catchy slogans and an endless buffet of products that I definitely did not need, and you don't either. But suddenly you feel like you cannot live without Shoes line the sidewalks, slot machines, each one promising faster splits and fewer blisters. The air smells faintly of new rubber soles and credit card debt. And you know you're in retail row when you walk in for body glide and come out with a hydration vest, four packs of experimental gels and a running belt that looks like a tactical weapon.

Speaker 1:

Panic-driven purchases are the local currency, my friend. Nobody leaves without swiping their card at least once, maybe a few more times. And we're not even talking about Retail Row at Expo. We're just talking about while you're waiting to get to Expo. Every shop window screams promises. New socks equals new PR, train smart, shop hard. And last minute equals best minute. Let's not do this, my friend. There's even a race day wardrobe crisis outlet. This was my favorite location, by the way, in Retail Row. I visited it several times. I still think I have like three options. Were runners justified buying a brand new singlet two weeks out in murder. I'll just break it in on my shakeout run.

Speaker 1:

The residents here are happy, jittery and, let's be honest, slightly delusional. They clutch their new purchases like talisman against failure. Rationalities outlawed and retail row rungs on hope and hype, you don't ask. Do I need this? You ask will it make me feel prepared? And the answer is always yes. The tail tile sign that you have stayed too long is when you start to have to buy a suitcase for all of things that you've just purchased, with an open gear of course. Three pairs of identical shoes in a bank account balance that screams louder than your hamstrings, my friend, your bank is likely going to ask you to leave retail row. So when you do, do know that the next place for you to visit in Taper Town is Domestic Affairs Department.

Speaker 1:

The Domestic Affairs Department is less a government agency and more a soap opera set. The building looks ordinary, but once you step inside, the emotional atmosphere is thick enough to choke on. Mood swings ricochet off the walls like dodgeballs and let's be honest here, small inconveniences become international crises. Someone ate the last banana. It was betrayal. Someone moved your favorite water bottle Absolute catastrophe. You know you've arrived when you start crying because your laundry detergent is out of stock or snapping at your dog for walking too slowly.

Speaker 1:

Family members and friends are the true unsung heroes of this department. They tiptoe around you, careful not to trigger a monologue about carb ratios or sock thickness. Spouses develop selective hearing. Children learn that phrases are you running again? Are grounds for exile. And then there's the cleaning frenzy. In Taper Town. Runners suddenly decide to deep clean the fridge, alphabetize the spice rack or scrub around 11 pm. Why? Because energy once spent on long runs has to go somewhere, and apparently it's into organizing Tupperware. But let's be honest after months and months of training, it actually probably isn't the worst thing to spend some time cleaning around the house. And if you're unsure whether you're here, just ask your loved ones If they look at you with fear, pity or the glazed stare of someone that's being held hostage. Congratulations, you're in the domestic affairs department of Tavortown. If by any chance they do kick you out and you can't go for a run because it's not on your training plan.

Speaker 1:

There's also the next bureau of unsolicited advice. Whether or not you want to go there, my friend, you are going to get a couple of visits here. The bureau is a gleaming marble building staffed entirely by non-runners. Their job is to offer you ill times, completely unhelpful comments, while chewing french fries. You know you're inside when someone says you're running 26 miles. Is that like a 5K? Or I don't even drive that far as 26 miles or the classic? Don't worry, you'll probably win. The walls echo with nonsense advice like just run faster. I've heard that one and my cousin ran a marathon once without training. You'll be fine.

Speaker 1:

The bureau runs on frustration, that's it just 100% frustration. Every runner who enters leaves with clenched fists, a forced smile, and it's part of the rite of passage. One poor soul once dared to mention carb loading to a coworker, only to endure a 45-minute lecture on keto. They have never recovered since. There's no escaping this place. Even if you avoid strangers your neighbors, baristas, uber drivers somebody is eventually going to sense your vulnerability and swoop in with advice that you did not ask for. You'll know you're trapped when you find yourself arguing with someone who's never run a mile about the proper way to taper Survival tip, nod, smile and walk away before you've even drafted into another conversation that ends with well, running is bad for your knees anyway. Just heard that one a couple of days ago myself.

Speaker 1:

Okay, friends, if you have felt like you have met your quota of being frustrated at the Bureau of Unsolicited Advice, maybe it's time to take a little stroll down to the Packing District. The Packing District is the industrial hub of Taper Town, humming with nervous energy. Here, lists breed like rabbits. Everywhere you look, runners are hunched over notebooks, scribbling safety pins for the fifth time or, of course, if they have their bib boards, the buildings are warehouses filled with gear, socks stacked like sandbags, energy gels arranged in rainbow rows, water bottles sorted by milliliter, and every street is named after an item that you're terrified of forgetting Shoe lace street or Garmin alley safety pin plaza, of forgetting Shoelace Street or Garmin Alley Safety Pin Plaza.

Speaker 1:

You know you're here when you made at least three separate packing lists and taped them to different parts of your house. Maybe if you can set a couple of reminders on your phone as well One's in the kitchen, one in the bathroom, one in your shoe closet. Each list has items crossed out and rewritten because you no longer trust your capacity to pack all the things you need for your race. You no longer trust your capacity to pack all the things you need for your race. The packing district never sleeps Nope, sure does not. Runners pace the streets at midnight muttering about weather, contingency gear, rain poncho, throwaway sweatshirt oh, that reminds me I do need throwaway gear. Four hats. Your paranoia is palpable. You don't ask if you packed something, you ask if you packed enough of it and you know that you've overstayed your visit. When you're packing for a marathon, like you're heading out on a six-month Antarctic expedition, now I will say the packing district also has some addendum buildings, depending if you are doing a local race, domestic, or if you're flying internationally.

Speaker 1:

But for this tapered town visit, let's not overcomplicate things. Let's make our way to somewhere maybe a little friendlier, like the Town Square. This is where our family and friends are at, in that arena there. So at the center of Taper Town, lies Town Square, where runners gather like moths to a flame. Every night the air fills with the same chant it's just Taper madness. It's both a mantra and a therapy session. The square is cobblestone with discarded weather app screenshots and old training plans, a fountain in the middle. Bubbles with electrolyte drinks, benches overflow with runners swapping war stories about phantom injuries or carb struggles and sudden mood swings, and family and friends hover around the perimeter clutching lattes and looking bewildered. They nod politely as runners rant about dew points and negative splits, but you can see their nods leave their bodies after the third repetition. Some eventually disappear into the crowd of non-runners who gather at the exit to sanity sign who gather at the exit to sanity sign.

Speaker 1:

You don't get to go there, though, if you're racing, just so you know. Exit of sanity sign is not for you. You'll have to U-turn. You also know that you're in town square, though, when you've been told the story of long run so many times that even you're tired of hearing it. You know what I'm talking about. You're repeating it. You're repeating it. You're repeating it. You've heard of it from your friends. You're done. You also know that you're here when strangers nod in solidarity. After you whisper, I think my garment is broken. There's no way that I'm really this slow.

Speaker 1:

Town Square is both chaotic and comforting. It's the only place where everyone gets it, whether it's banana or bagels, and it's treated like it's a serious philosophical debate. Now, the scariest part of Taper Town. I've left it for last and I'm so sorry, but likely this is also going to be a place that you may visit. I hope your stay is very short, though. It is the Hall of Doubt.

Speaker 1:

The Hall of Doubt is the most by far imposing structure in Taper Town. Its architecture is deceptive. It looks beautiful majestic marble steps, gleaming pillars and banners that read trust the training. But inside, my friend, inside, it's a maze of second guessing, where every runner replays the last 16 weeks in agonizing slow motion. The first room is lined with giant screens looping your old training runs. You watch yourself slog to that long run in the rain, whispering was it good enough? And in the next room a chalkboard is scrawled with forgotten intervals, each one nagging should you have gone harder or longer or faster?

Speaker 1:

The air here is heavy with what ifs. Did you peak too early? Did you miss too many runs? Should you have done more strength, work, more speed, more hills? Every path through the hall leads to a different flavor of self-doubt. Some runners wander for hours staring at training logs until they see numbers that aren't actually there. And you know that you're in the hall of doubt when you find yourself pulling out your watch to scroll through old splits like they hold secrets of the universe. And when you open your training plan for the 100,000th time, suddenly convinced that missing that one temper run in week seven doomed you forever more.

Speaker 1:

The cruelest exhibit in the hall, it's the comparison gallery. Oh, it's the scariest. Here are holograms of other runners up here, strangers from Instagram, people in your running group Seemingly they all did more, they're all better, they're all faster, and you know, logically, it's smoke and mirrors. But you still wonder if you've trained enough. There's only one way out of the hall, my friend. It's accepting that the hay is in the barn or the dishes are done. The training is officially over and you can't rewrite the past three months in the last three days. But of course no one truly leaves without pacing back through at least once more, just to double check. My friend, now it is officially your time the race day departure.

Speaker 1:

At dawn the bus waits at the edge of Taper Town. Runners will climb aboard arms laden with overstuffed bags, bellies heavy with carbs and eyes glazed from lack of sleep. The streets that you leave behind are littered with empty Gill Reppers, shopping receipts and shredded weather forecasts. As the bus pulls away, something shifts. The phantom injuries fade, the mood swings settle and even the weather apps seem a little calmer, showing a forecast that suddenly looks like you will handle whatever comes your way. For the first time in weeks, you smile. You realize the madness of Taper Town was just part of the ritual the hunger, the panic, the obsessive cleaning. It's not weakness, it was your body and brain recalibrating for what's next. The bus rumbles forward, forward to the start line, and you adjust your watch, tighten your laces and take a beautiful, big, deep breath. You have officially, my friend, survived your visit to Taper Town Until next time. You are now officially ready to run.

Speaker 1:

That, my friends, concludes our grand tour of Taper Town. I don't know if you're currently a visitor there. I myself am the land of phantom pains and snack debates, weather obsession and emotional whiplash. Well, if you made it through these last few moments with me without recognizing yourself at least five times, I'd argue that you either skip taper altogether or you're not being 100% honest. Here's the fun part, though you don't have to wander these streets alone. I have created a Taper Town bingo card, inspired by my training buddy, jennifer. Thank you for that text. It made me smile, made me giggle and made me welcome you to Taper Town, inspiring this entire episode and our Taper Town bingo card. My friends, that's all for you listening in. If you want your own Taper Town bingo card for you to play along with your running buddies, print it out, bring it to the group runs or just keep it handy to laugh to yourself every time you're fresh the water up for the 47th time in one morning, you can grab yours by using the form in episode notes. Just use that link right in there.

Speaker 1:

And while we're laughing together through taper, I want to let you know that I'll also be packing my own bags for something extra special. I'm heading down under to Sydney Marathon, which has officially joined the lineup as the seventh world marathon major. This will be my seventh major so far and I cannot wait. Let me tell you I'll be checking into Taper Town. Actually, I'm pretty much the mayor. Welcome. I'm part of the welcoming committee. For sure I have my passport in hand. Those doubts are definitely swirling if I packed enough and if the weather is going to cooperate, but the excitement is truly sky high. So, whether you're tapering for your very first 5k, your 10th marathon maybe you're joining me in Sydney or a Beckett-less race of your dreams. Remember this the madness is truly part of the magic. The fact that you're even in taper town means you've done the work and you're ready for the reward. Now go forth, play some bingo, eat the bagel and the banana and I'll see you on the start line. Whatever your next race may be, stay extraordinary, thank you.

People on this episode

Head Shot

Christine Hetzel

Host