When More Isn’t Better: The Law of Diminishing Returns in Distance Running
Performance

When More Isn’t Better: The Law of Diminishing Returns in Distance Running

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When More Isn’t Better: The Law of Diminishing Returns in Distance Running

There is a familiar moment in many runners’ lives. Training volume is higher than ever, workouts are checked off with discipline, nutrition is dialed in, gear has been upgraded—and yet performance stalls. Legs feel heavier rather than stronger. Recovery takes longer. Motivation fades quietly, without drama. Nothing is obviously “wrong,” but progress has slowed to a crawl.

This is often the point where runners assume they need more: more mileage, more intensity, more precision. In reality, it may be the point where the law of diminishing returns has entered the picture.

Borrowed from economics, the law of diminishing returns describes a simple idea: after a certain threshold, adding more of the same input produces smaller and smaller gains. In running, the inputs are time, mileage, intensity, and effort. The outputs are endurance, speed, and resilience. Early on, the relationship feels almost magical—small increases in training lead to large improvements. But as fitness rises, that relationship changes. Progress slows. The cost of each additional gain becomes higher.

This shift is not a failure of discipline or ambition. It is a natural feature of human adaptation.

Why Progress Slows as Fitness Improves

The body adapts to training stress through recovery. Muscles rebuild stronger, aerobic systems become more efficient, connective tissue thickens, and the nervous system learns to coordinate movement more economically. But adaptation is not unlimited. It is constrained by sleep, nutrition, stress, age, genetics, and available recovery time.

As training load increases, recovery becomes the limiting factor. Early gains come easily because the body is far from its ceiling. Later gains are harder because each additional unit of stress demands disproportionately more recovery. When stress begins to exceed recovery capacity, adaptation slows—or reverses.

This is where many amateur runners struggle. Without the time, support systems, or flexibility of elite athletes, they attempt to push training variables upward while recovery remains fixed. The result is not steady improvement, but stagnation, chronic fatigue, or injury.

Where Diminishing Returns Appear in Real Training

Mileage is the most obvious example. Moving from 20 to 40 miles per week often transforms a runner. Moving from 40 to 60 can still bring meaningful gains. Beyond that, the returns narrow for most amateurs. Increasing from 60 to 80 miles may yield only marginal improvements—if recovery holds—and significantly increases injury risk if it does not.

Intensity follows a similar pattern. Adding one structured workout per week often helps. Adding a second may help further. Adding a third frequently compromises recovery, blunts adaptation, and degrades performance across all sessions. Hard work loses its effectiveness when it becomes constant.

Even race execution reflects this principle. Pacing too aggressively in the early stages of a race feels productive in the moment, but it extracts a disproportionate cost later. Measured effort often produces better outcomes than maximal effort applied too soon.

The same logic applies to time investment. Training ten hours per week can lead to substantial improvement. Training fifteen may bring only modest gains, while quietly subtracting from sleep, relationships, and mental freshness—the very things that support long-term consistency.

The Illusion of Optimization

When progress slows, runners often turn to optimization. Shoes promise efficiency gains. Supplements promise performance support. Recovery tools promise faster adaptation. These can help—but only at the margins.

Marginal gains matter most when fundamentals are already solid. Without adequate sleep, consistent training, and sensible workload management, optimization becomes a distraction. The pursuit of small advantages can mask larger structural problems in training.

The law of diminishing returns does not argue against technology or tools. It simply reminds us that no accessory can compensate for accumulated fatigue or chronic overload.

Recognizing the Signal

Diminishing returns rarely announce themselves loudly. They appear quietly, through patterns rather than events.

Workouts feel harder without producing better results. Recovery takes longer than it used to. Small aches linger. Motivation fades not dramatically, but persistently. Despite “doing everything right,” progress stalls.

These are not signs of weakness. They are feedback. The body is communicating that the balance between stress and recovery has shifted.

Training Smarter, Not Smaller

Responding to diminishing returns does not necessarily mean doing less forever. It means doing the right amount at the right time.

Periodization becomes essential: phases of building, sharpening, and deliberately backing off. Recovery weeks are no longer optional but necessary. Quality takes precedence over accumulation. Training becomes intentional rather than exhaustive.

Progress at this stage is often subtle. Improvements come from better execution, better timing, and better recovery—not from piling on more work. Gains may be slower, but they are more durable.

A More Sustainable Definition of Progress

For amateur runners, improvement must coexist with life. Training that erodes sleep, joy, or health may still look productive on paper, but it rarely produces lasting results. The most effective training plans are not those that demand the most, but those that can be repeated month after month, year after year.

The law of diminishing returns is not a warning against ambition. It is a reminder that progress has a cost—and that past a certain point, that cost rises faster than the reward.

Sometimes the next breakthrough does not come from adding more, but from stepping back, restoring balance, and allowing adaptation to catch up.

In distance running, as in many parts of life, wisdom often arrives when effort is no longer the limiting factor—but judgment is.