I’m a big believer in intervals and hard workouts—but I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t acknowledge the other side of the coin. Not every speed session makes you faster. Done poorly, or done too often, speed training can stall progress or even derail it entirely.
First, there’s injury risk. This is unavoidable reality. Running near max effort places huge stress on muscles, tendons, and bones. Many advanced runners—myself included—have flirted with injury by getting greedy with speedwork. A few years back, I followed a plan that called for three intense workouts per week. It felt fantastic…for about two weeks. Then came a hamstring strain that sidelined me for nearly a month. That experience taught me to ask a hard question: Do I really need this much intensity—or do I just like how hardcore it feels?
Interestingly, many elite coaches limit truly hard interval sessions to once per week, pairing them with threshold work and a lot of easy mileage. I’ve gradually come around to that philosophy myself.
There’s also the volume-over-intensity argument. Some veteran runners claim that for non-elites, mileage matters more than speedwork. I’ve seen this play out in real life. One runner hammers intervals but keeps mileage low and stagnates. Another quietly doubles their weekly volume—mostly easy—and suddenly PRs by a minute with minimal speed training. It seems counterintuitive, but a bigger aerobic base lifts everything.
I experienced this firsthand during a forced break from intervals while rehabbing that hamstring. For a couple of months, I ran easy mileage and added strides—no hard workouts. When I returned to racing, I was only slightly off my best times. The base carried me further than I expected.
Finally, there’s the issue of diminishing returns with VO₂max work. For advanced runners, VO₂max may already be close to its ceiling. Some research—and plenty of anecdotal evidence—suggests that economy and lactate threshold are more trainable at this stage. Endless VO₂max intervals may bring more pain than payoff. Personally, I doubt four VO₂max sessions per week would make me faster; I’d likely just end up injured or overcooked.
Where I’ve landed is here: speed training is powerful, but it must be used sparingly and intelligently. The most effective plans touch all the bases—some intervals, yes, but also tempo runs, long runs, strength work, and plenty of easy mileage. That balanced approach seems to be where both science and lived experience intersect.
In other words: speedwork is a tool, not a religion. Use it wisely.
Let’s talk about the mental side of all this, because for a lot of advanced runners, that’s where things quietly start to unravel.
Some runners grow skeptical of the all-out, split-chasing approach not because it doesn’t work—but because it burns them out. When every workout becomes a test you’re afraid to fail, running stops being something you look forward to. I’ve lived that phase. There was a stretch where every Tuesday filled me with anxiety. I’d lie there thinking about the workout I had planned, worrying whether I’d hit the paces, already mentally exhausted before I even laced up.
That’s not sustainable.
You’ll hear a skeptical voice in the community say something like: “If you’re not a pro getting paid to do this, why are you torturing yourself?” And honestly, they’re not wrong. We do this for fulfillment. For health. For joy. So sometimes the smartest move is backing off intensity—not forever, but long enough to reset your head. I often tell runners stuck in a rut to ditch the watch for a few weeks, run trails, log easy miles, and remember why they started. A fresh mind and a rested body have a funny way of turning into faster race times later.
Now, you might wonder if that contradicts everything I’ve championed so far. It doesn’t. It’s about balance. The skeptic’s corner exists to remind us that more isn’t always better, and every training tool has a cost. The truth—like it usually is in running—sits somewhere in the middle.
The best results I’ve seen in advanced 5K runners come from a mix: solid mileage for aerobic base, just enough speedwork to sharpen things, and not so much intensity that the wheels come off. You could call it polarized training—lots of easy, some very hard, and very little grinding in between.
Here’s how I frame it now: smart training beats bravado. I used to think gut-busting workouts proved dedication. Now I believe a well-planned schedule—where hard efforts are timed for when you’re fresh and aimed at specific weaknesses—wins every time. The seconds I’ve shaved off in recent years didn’t come from suffering more. They came from training like a scientist and racing like a patient, grizzled runner who knows when to push and when to hold back.
The skeptic in me keeps my ego on a short leash. If I catch myself thinking, “I should add more intervals because so-and-so is doing that,” a little alarm goes off, reminding me how that story usually ends.
So yes—beware of speed for speed’s sake. Use it carefully. Balance it with base training. And listen when your body starts whispering “too much,” before it has to shout. The real art of advanced running is knowing where that line is—and not crossing it too often.