How to Beat Marathon Training Burnout With a Running Vacation

Marathon runners love to talk about how challenging the training can be. Forget chafing or nutrition; sometimes the toughest part is just finding enough roadway. The only thing more mind-numbing than running 18 miles on a high school track is spending two hours on a treadmill. I often run along the Los Angeles River, an expansive path I’d once found charming for reasons I cannot remember. The “river” (more like a trickle) was the backdrop for an apocalyptic motorcycle chase in Terminator 2. And on a cloudy day it still looks dystopian. A training route has to be safe, well-lit, and long. Is it too much to ask that it also be, ya know, pretty?

Thankfully, a bunch of hotels in wine country—stateside and abroad—have begun catering to runners craving scenic paths. At Appellation Healdsburg, which opened earlier this year and is surrounded by some of Sonoma’s oldest vines, guests can go for guided runs hosted by the hotel’s general manager, David Emig. Chateau de Lussac, a ten-room property in Bordeaux, France, recently introduced a bespoke program for athletes that includes a dedicated running coach.

This isn’t strictly a high-end trend either. The Courtyard by Marriott San Luis Obispo, in the heart of California’s Central Coast wine region, just completed a year-long, $6 million renovation, and is now offering travelers a morning trail run followed by a day of tastings in Paso Robles. And the news couldn’t have come soon enough: I’m training for my third marathon, and I hit the wall early, struggling to ramp up my weekly mileage. For the first time in years, I was starting to think I wasn’t just souring on my daily route, but on the sport itself.

“What keeps people away from the marathon isn’t race day,” says Chris Bennett, Nike’s global head coach of running and author of This Is About Running, This Is Not About Running. “It’s all of the days leading up to race day. It’s the starting line on a Tuesday—in week 9 of 18—where you’re thinking, ‘Do I really have another nine-mile run ahead of me?’” Mixing up your runs is paramount, Bennett says. “Sometimes that means getting out of Dodge.” So I booked a running trip to wine country in May, searching for a hard reboot and a reminder of why I’d signed up for the marathon at all.

My solo tour started in Lodi, California, a laid back, Central Valley town about 45 minutes from Sacramento, known for its jammy Zinfandels. (If wine isn’t your thing, Lodi is also the birthplace of A&W Root Beer.) Dave Phillips, the owner of Michael David Winery, is a fifth-generation grape grower who ran his first marathon in high school. These days, he’s known to roll calls while running through fields. “I’m one of those guys that trains slow to race fast,” says Phillips, 63.

I might be, too, if my backyard was a stone’s throw from 185-year-old vines and a river where salmon jump in the fall. At his suggestion, I circled Lodi Lake and ran deep into the surrounding nature reserve before making my way west on Woodbridge Road. There, I found a quiet stretch with no on-ramp to the freeway (and thus no trucks), but endless vineyards punctuated by freshwater canals and ripe cherry trees. I helped myself to some fruit before returning to Appellation Lodi – Wine & Roses Resort and Spa, where the pebble floors in the shower soothed my sore feet.

The next morning I set off for Healdsburg, a town in Sonoma that’s home to SingleThread: a Japanese-inspired restaurant with three Michelin stars and its own 24-acre farm, where most of the restaurant’s vegetables are grown alongside maybe the best strawberry I’ve ever tasted. It turns out the same crisp mornings that produce excellent Pinot Noir also make for some inviting long runs. “That’s the marine layer,” explains entrepreneur Baron Ziegler, a runner who, fittingly, named his celebrated winery Marine Layer.

On the advice of Appellation’s general manager, I laced up my shoes and made a ten-mile loop up Dry Creek Road, which passes like an artery through Healdsburg’s wineries. I ran past SingleThread’s expansive farm and its postcard-perfect marketplace before stumbling onto the Dry Creek General Store, which dates back to 1881 and is maybe the only general store in America that stocks Terra Amata Zinfandel Rosé cold. Chef Gregory Gourdet, the James Beard Award–winner behind Portland’s celebrated restaurant Kann, has run more than 50 races, including marathons and ultras.

“Mixing up terrain forces you to stay present, work different muscles, and pay attention to the environment around you instead of just watching the mileage tick up,” he says. “What I appreciate about places like Oregon wine country is the way the landscape naturally creates variation. You can move through rolling hills, rural roads, forested sections, and open spaces all within a single run, and that changes the entire experience.” Put another way: Athletes always talk about getting hurt physically. What about emotionally?

As I ran through rolling hills straight out of a Willa Cather novel, I was reminded how rote my runs had become. How I find myself taking breaks at the same spots, not because I’m tired but because I always check my email at this one stoplight. But out here, I realize traveling isn’t just about mixing up the terrain, it’s about the joy of surprises—like finding those sweet cherry trees.

After my Sonoma run, I went downtown to meet Skip Brand, a reformed “computer nerd” who quit his Silicon Valley career at age 50 to open the Healdsburg Running Company. Brand’s store hosts regular vineyard runs, and he raves about the local races in Napa and Sonoma, telling me that wineries are often waiting at the finish line with fresh pours. His store, meanwhile, is referred to as “America’s Winiest Running Store.”

That’s a nice reminder that all of this is supposed to be fun. And honestly, what better way to refuel after a ten-mile run than with a glass of Pinot Noir and a massage at Appellation’s Terroir Spa, where one can recover on a PEMF mat (using low-frequency electromagnetic waves to reduce inflammation).

Over three days, I ran 20 miles and came home to L.A. invigorated, reminded why I was running this next marathon: to honor my late brother, who passed away last year from brain cancer. But I also returned with a renewed appreciation for my own path, both literally and figuratively. Nike’s Bennett talks about the inevitable fear that arrives mid-race. “Wrap your arms around it,” he says, “and whisper in its ear, ‘I was wondering when you were going to show up.’ Then dance with it.”

That’s good advice for mile 18, but also, really, for life. Training for a marathon—for me, and I’m guessing for you—is about testing your limits and pushing past them. It’s about spending time in your own head (never easy) and remembering to put one foot in front of the other, which is the only way to finish a race or anything else. Most of all, the trip reminded me that lacing up your shoes is a gift. I’ll remember that on the starting line.

This article is from the Fall 2026 issue of Outside magazine. To receive the print magazine, become an Outside+ member here.