Deload and taper weeks: why rest feels harder than long runs

Marathon training teaches you to run for hours. Rest days teach you to stare at your shoes like an addict in withdrawal. When the plan says “easy week” or it’s time for your taper, your legs don’t feel grateful. Your brain doesn’t sigh with relief. Instead, it spins out: What if I’m losing fitness? What if I never get it back? What if I won't be able to run again?

Sometimes, the only thing harder than your weekly long run is not running at all.

Why you feel rubbish during deload and taper weeks

When you cut back on mileage, your brain chemistry doesn’t always politely go, “Oh, thank you for the break.” It sulks. Endorphins and dopamine will drop to the floor, and your mood goes with them. Meanwhile, your body is still producing cortisol (a.k.a. the stress hormone) as if you were still in a high mileage week. Your nervous system has been trained to expect effort every day, and when it doesn’t get it, it paces like a dog waiting for a walk.

That’s why deload weeks don’t just make you restless — they make you anxious. Stress hormones with nowhere to go end up fuelling catastrophes out of nothing, like turning a typo into a life crisis. At the same time, your brain has been conditioned to see mileage as proof of progress. Take the miles away, and every blank day on the plan feels like sliding backwards. The chemistry, the hormones, and the psychology all pile on to convince you that stopping is dangerous, even when it’s exactly what your body needs.

The irrational thoughts (every runner knows them)

Will I lose fitness on rest days?

Unlikely. You don’t lose anything measurable from a day off. Fitness dips happen over weeks and months, not hours. But your brain refuses to believe that, so one skipped session sometimes feels like the start of the end.

Will a deload week ruin my training?

Quite the opposite: deloads give your muscles, joints, and nervous system a chance to adapt. Without them, you just dig yourself into a fatigue hole. But logic doesn’t help much when you’re scrolling Strava and watching everyone else “still crushing it.”

Why does my body feel worse when I run less?

Your nervous system doesn’t like change. Reduce the stress and suddenly you get phantom aches, heavy legs, random twinges. It’s your body’s way of throwing a tantrum. Call it taper madness, call it the fitness equivalent of a nicotine craving — either way, it’s unnerving.

How to survive deload and taper weeks

Deload weeks are basically a psychological prank. You’ve been told to slow down, but your body interprets that as a threat. The trick is not to sneak in “just a cheeky 10k,” but to give yourself small outlets that don’t wreck the whole plan. It’s like a fire drill at the office: no one believes it’s real, everyone’s annoyed, but ignoring it is exactly how disasters happen.

• Channel the energy. Think of it like sneaking a cigarette break. A walk, some stretching, half-arsed yoga — just enough to take the edge off without wrecking recovery.
• Reframe the goal. Recovery isn’t absence, it’s construction. Your body is literally rebuilding while you sit there panicking that nothing’s happening. Think of it as training you can’t see yet.
• Make recovery its own ritual. Prep your race kit, batch-cook your carb stash, make playlists, clean your shoes. Give yourself “training tasks” that don’t involve pounding pavements.
• Think long-term. One quiet week doesn’t erase months of training. Fitness builds in arcs, not in single runs. Deloads and tapers are the cement setting on a building — without that pause, the whole structure crumbles.

Patience is training too

Deload weeks can feel like punishment, but they’re actually the part where gains stick. If you can sit through the anxiety of stillness, when every nerve in your body is screaming to run, you’re building endurance of a different kind. And if you can endure taper week without sneaking in “just a cheeky 10k,” the race itself will be a breeze.