Move It Old Man - Running 4 Hours Hungover - 23 Weeks To Go

Running 4 Hours Hungover: A 62-Mile Training Week, Doubt, Wood Thrushes, and Hitting the Wall

Training for a 50-mile ultramarathon in November | Move It Old Man

My alarm was set for 4:30 a.m. It didn't matter. I'd already been up for a while, and my head was not feeling great.

The night before, my wife and I actually got out of the house — something we rarely manage to do. I drank my wine. I drank her wine, the one she didn't like. A friend came over beforehand and poured me Japanese whiskey. So there's that.

The plan was to leave at 5:00 a.m. and be done by 9:00. I walked out the door at 8:00, coffee in hand, no food, no headphones, no preparation. Just me and a cup of coffee and the consequences of a good night out.

The Hungover Run That Turned Into a Meditation

I was planning to work on speed walking anyway, so maybe the hangover was accidentally good training. For almost two hours I power-walked through Brooklyn with nothing but caffeine — no music, no podcast, nothing. Leaving the headphones home turned out to be one of the better decisions I didn't consciously make. I found myself listening more closely to my body, to the wind in the trees, to everything around me.

In the middle of Prospect Park, a Wood Thrush sang to me.

It's probably not a great sign that within an hour, the hangover was mostly gone and I felt genuinely fine — or as good as I could.

For the full four hours, I listened. To my body. To the birds. To the rhythmic beat of feet on pavement.

There's something meditative about submitting to not feeling great — the suffering of poor sleep and the steady drum of forward motion. It felt almost like an initiation rite, the kind that delivers you deeper into yourself. The first two hours weren't fun. Hours two to three got better. Then, at three hours and twenty minutes, I hit the wall.

Hitting the Wall at Hour 3— and What It Actually Feels Like

I didn't lock up. I've seized in marathons before, and this wasn't that. It was softer than that — harder to articulate. The pace became more work. I ached a bit more. It just got heavier.

Probable culprit: not enough salt, not enough fuel, and the previous night's alcohol intake doing what alcohol does to hydration.

I can't recommend a multi-drink pre-training dinner as a fueling strategy.

When Doubt Shows Up at Mile 3

In the middle of the run I felt fine, even good. The last 45 minutes were different. I found myself thinking: How the hell am I going to do this for 50 miles? For 13 hours?

Confidence had been high all week. This was the last run of a 62.44-mile week, and I was hungover. That combination will invite doubt in. It shadowed me for the better part of an hour.

But here's the context: this was the cap on a big week, not a representative effort. Doubt showing up at the end of that isn't a verdict — it's math. Long Week + a proper boozer = a well fought slog.

Gear Notes and Lessons from a Long Ugly Effort

These are the things I'm fixing before the next long one:

Shoes: These ones are done. New shoes are no longer optional.

Gaiters: Leaf litter in the bottom of my shoe gave me a blister. Gaiters are on the list.

Socks: Thinner for summer. Ordering Darn Toughs in a lighter weight.

Fuel and electrolytes: 500ml of salty Gatorade (seven shakes of sea salt) was not enough for the final 2.5 hours. I need to carry more and titrate the salt up gradually. Considering almond butter and honey as real food. Transitioning from Gatorade to Tailwind. Just bought more LMNT.

Running belt: Hitting mileage where carrying things in my hands has become legitimately annoying. Time to invest in a belt. Probably Naked Running Band.

Shorts: The cheap ones failed once I started really sweating. Looking at Kettle Mountain Sports shorts. Need to figure out what actually works.

Shirt: Need lightweight mesh that vents or at least manages a ridiculous sweat load. Still researching.

The Takeaway

A 4-hour power walk and run on a hangover, at the end of a 62-mile week, in the heat, under-fueled — and I finished. Doubt came, but so did a Wood Thrush, and the steady beat of putting one foot in front of the other for a long time.

That's the work. November is coming.

Move It Old Man is a blog about training for ultramarathons later in life. Currently: 50 miles in November.