When I was in high school, I joined the cross-country team as a freshman and went into the season without being in the best shape. I was 14, and like most 14-year-olds, I had more important activities to worry about than training over the summer.
I suffered a bit the first couple weeks of practice, as did most of my teammates, for the sins of our ways. When the season was over, I immediately joined the wrestling team. We ran a lot of laps in the halls and the cross-country-runners-turned-wrestlers would crush the other wrestlers. Perhaps not coincidentally, the other wrestlers would then crush the cross-country runners on the mat. But we loved running those laps and they had the bonus of getting us in good shape for the upcoming spring track season (as did just getting thrown around by the wrestlers).
The following couple of summers included running shorter distances and a few 10k races, including my first sub-40-minute finish. However, before my senior year began, we were expected to train over the summer and Doc, our coach, incentivized us with two challenges: the 500-mile summer and the 100-mile week. I decided to go for it, but instead of a “normal” plan with a single long run and some doubles, I wanted to run singles and decided to start at 11 miles (which was easy), then just increase my mileage by one mile each day (up to 17 on day seven). Quick math says that would get me to just 98 miles, but I figured it would be easy to squeeze in a couple more during the week. By the end of that summer, I had run my first 100-mile week and well surpassed 500 miles for the summer. And I was definitely fit for the cross-country season.
The summer of 1990 played quite a big role in my personal development as a runner. It was then that I realized my body could handle running longer distances consistently, which I’m not sure it could have handled earlier, as the gradual base-building over the previous few years helped set me up for success. All of those miles that summer also made me fitter and faster, and I genuinely enjoyed pounding out those miles.
During my collegiate cross-country seasons, I consistently ran 100-mile weeks, and although I was never fast, I was strong and loved the weekly long tempo runs when I could crush the milers on the team.
Just six years after college, I jumped onto the “ultra train” and was able to easily transition back into those 100-mile weeks. I continued to consistently run 90–120 miles per week for the next 15 years and did so without any real injuries. I now know that it was my long, slow and gradual base-building over the years and decades that helped set up my body for success.
All of this isn’t to say that you need to run 100-mile weeks to be successful in ultramarathons (and “success” is defined very subjectively), but to have longevity success, do your body a favor by slowly and gradually building your base over decades. Your uninjured body will thank you.