Andrew Glaze: On The Mental Health Benefits of Running 100 Miles Weekly | TUH #237

Andy emphasizes that many runners get injured because they fail to respect the slower adaptation of connective tissue. He has applied this split principle for years and credits it for his ability to maintain 100+ mile weeks for 300 consecutive weeks without significant injury. On duty, he accomplishes the split by running repeated short loops around the fire station, even on a treadmill, ensuring he stays within response range. The strategy also helps him balance family life by doing the main run while kids are at school.

Andy failed Moab 240 first time after staying awake ~51 hours, fell asleep while running at mile 200, fell backwards off a cliff, injured his back and DNF’d. Second attempt ended in heat stroke. For his successful third attempt, he and his crew rented a camper van; he ran through the first night, then scheduled the 3–6 a.m. sleep window during the coldest, darkest hours. He reports feeling significantly clearer, completed the race, and now considers this a replicable protocol for future 200s. He notes that the body's pain and soreness naturally limit sleep duration anyway—you wake up when you can’t stay still any longer.

Andy discovered that after many years of racing, his mouth developed sores from the acidity of gels, and his stomach would eventually reject them. He began experimenting with real food and found that he could eat a full vegan burger or a burrito and then continue running. His favorite race food is avocado for its healthy fat content. He warns that hot races require mostly gels because solid food becomes unpalatable, but in moderate conditions whole foods work and keep him satiated and psychologically happier. This flexibility eliminates brand loyalty and prevents the common race failure of 'bonking' due to gut rejection of gels.

Andy recounts seeing troll dolls and robot dogs during previous sleep-deprived races, partly triggered by erratic shadows from his headlamp. Switching to a waist light markedly reduced these episodes. He still uses supplemental light from a phone or watch for navigation, but the primary running light is waist-mounted.

Andy was asked about his biohacking and listed his minimal routine: usual sauna and cold plunge, a small red light bed used mainly on his feet (to keep them healthy), and a high calorie diet to avoid the bone and tendon injuries that come from under-fueling. He also takes many single-ingredient supplements (flax seed oil, algae oil, iron, zinc, magnesium, D3+K2, garlic oil, alpha GPC, B complex, AG1). He experiments with extra things like ketone IQ occasionally, but mainly sticks to this basic stack. He checks bloodwork annually through his fire department's wellness program and his own doctor, aiming for athlete functional ranges, not population average.

Andy describes PTSD as a 'stack' of terrible images and events that periodically activate, throwing off the entire nervous system. He initially learned that exercise could calm his anxiety and depression in his 20s, so when PTSD emerged later, he pushed himself harder with triathlons and obstacle-course racing, eventually landing on ultra running. He realized that the profound physical distress and the brain's singular command to 'stay alive' during the most grueling miles effectively displaces intrusive PTSD thoughts. The pain cave becomes a sanctuary where he feels most alive and free from mental torment. He also frames it as intentional mental training for uncontrolled life hardship, because in a race you can stop if truly needed, but life offers no such safety net.

Andy explains that during ultra races, especially in moderate weather, he will eat two vegan burgers at an aid station and then immediately resume running. He has conditioned his stomach to process solid food while moving, though he notes that the first mile or two afterward are slower. He identifies avocado as his ideal race food—a perfect fat that provides sustained energy. The ability to handle solids is built through deliberate practice: he consumes real food on training runs so his gut adapts. In very hot races, however, he reverts to gels because solid food becomes difficult to digest. This adaptative flexibility allows him to avoid the constant swapping of gel brands mid-season and circumvent the cumulative mouth and gut irritation that plagues many ultra runners.

Andy discovered through years of ultra running that splitting mileage drastically reduces his injury risk. He runs a longer morning session while his kids are at school and a shorter evening session before dinner. This strategy spreads mechanical load across two recovery windows, allowing tendons and bones to better adapt instead of being overloaded in one continuous bout. On fire station shifts, he maintains the same principle by running loops around the station block, still breaking the distance into two outings. He emphasizes that muscles adapt faster than tendons, so shorter intermittent bouts protect the slower-adapting connective tissue.

Having crew and a camper van in his third attempt allowed him to pre-plan sleep. He chose to skip the first night entirely (running through it), then from 3 a.m. to 6 a.m. the second night he slept in the van. Waking at sunrise provided a circadian boost—the natural light and cortisol awakening response refreshed him without grogginess. He took zero naps for the remainder of the race, relying on that single consolidated block. Total sleep was about 7 hours over 98 hours of racing. He contrasts this with his first failure, where micro-sleep caused the catastrophic fall. The new protocol will become his standard for future 200-milers.

Andy describes how artificial headlamp light becomes exhausting and disorienting after many hours, with shadows jumping unpredictably. By moving the light source to the waist, the illumination angle is more natural, shadows are fewer, and he experiences fewer 'squirly' visual episodes. It looks unusual but has noticeably improved his night stability and mental clarity.