Two Hours of Running, 25 Metres of Air: Why Runners Run Out of Breath in the Pool
Runner to Swimmer Stories, Part 2
Petra is 39 and has run eleven half marathons. Her best is 1:58, set on a cold, flat course along a river, and she still talks about it the way other people talk about their wedding day. She can chat for the whole of a long Sunday run. Her running friends know her as the one who never stops talking.
In the pool, Petra lasted exactly one length.
Not because her arms gave up, and not because her legs sank. She simply ran out of air. Every length ended the same way: a desperate grab for the wall, a gasp like she'd just surfaced from a shipwreck, and a lifeguard leaning forward on his chair, wondering whether to blow the whistle.
"I don't understand it," she said. "I can run two hours and talk the whole way. Why can't I breathe for 25 metres?"
The breath you're holding
The test was simple: Petra stood in the shallow end, put her face in the water for ten seconds and then lifted it. She came up with her cheeks puffed out like a hamster with a secret.
There it was. Petra wasn't running out of air. She was holding it.
Almost every runner does this. On land, breathing happens by itself. In water, your face goes in, your instinct says "danger", and you lock your breath in like a safe. Then you turn your head to breathe, and in that short window you have to breathe out and in. There isn't time for both. So you grab a little air on top of the old air, and a few strokes later your chest feels like a balloon about to burst.
It feels like you need more air. What you actually need is to get rid of the old air.
Blub-blub-blub
In the book From Runner to Efficient Swimmer: Master the Crawl, breathing has its own chapter, because for most runners it's the first real limit. The fix is simple to say and takes a little practice to do: breathe out under water, calmly and the whole time your face is in.
Hum it, if that helps. Blub-blub-blub. A slow, relaxed stream of bubbles, like you're blowing out the candles on a cake you don't really want to eat. Don't force all the air out. Just keep it moving.
Then, when you turn to breathe, your lungs are already half empty and the new air simply flows in. Make a Popeye mouth: breathe in from the corner of your mouth, with one eye above the water and one below it. No lifting the head, no gasping, no shipwreck.
The first time Petra tried it, she came up laughing. "I sound like a coffee machine," she said. Yes, Petra. A very relaxed coffee machine.
Three breathing drills for runners
- The bubble count. Stand in shallow water, face in, and breathe out slowly while you count to five. Lift your head, breathe in, repeat. Breathe normally between attempts, and stop if you feel light-headed.
- The side turn. Still standing, turn your head to your favourite side as if you were swimming. One eye in the water, Popeye mouth, quick breath in. Head back down, bubbles out.
- Four to eight metres. Push off and swim a few strokes with your new bubbles. Stand up before you feel any panic. Short and calm, every time.
The chatty swimmer
Petra practised her bubbles in the shallow end for two weeks. She also practised in the bath at home, which her husband found deeply confusing.
Then one Thursday evening she swam 50 metres without stopping. At the wall she turned around, breathing easily, and started telling the man in the next lane about her half-marathon best. The man was trying to swim. He did not get far.
What Petra took away from the pool
- Running out of breath in the water usually means holding your breath, not lacking fitness.
- Breathe out calmly under water, the whole time your face is in.
- Breathe in to your favourite side, with a Popeye mouth, and keep your head low.
- Practise breathing standing still before you try it swimming.
Here's what Petra would tell you herself: she didn't fix her breathing alone. The urge to hold your breath when your face goes into the water isn't a bad habit you can simply decide to drop. It's a protective reflex, far older than any running shoe, and it sits deep below conscious thought. You can read about bubbles all evening and still lock your breath the moment you push off the wall. Runners who try to solve it on their own usually end up in the same place: one more gasping length, one more evening wondering what's wrong with them. What changes it is help, either a coach beside you at the pool or a method that does the coach's job for you. In the book From Runner to Efficient Swimmer: Master the Crawl, learning to breathe works the way it would with a coach standing next to you: standing still first, then turning, then a few metres, then a few more, each step only when the one before feels calm. It's an established process, and repeated like this, the new pattern sinks into your subconscious until your body breathes out under water without being told. That's not a tip. That's retraining, and it works best when someone leads you through it.
Next in the series: the trail runner who tried to pull the lake towards him, and what a planted foot has to do with swimming.
Take it easy, God bless you.