Training asks for adjustment. The air is thinner, efforts feel heavier and even familiar paces suddenly demand more. This winter, Jill Holterman returned to Kenya not to chase speed, but to reconnect with rhythm.
After a rest period, the focus was on rebuilding her base and putting the work back in. This camp felt different. Jill knew she wasn’t as fit as in past seasons and that was okay. “I didn’t need to be in shape yet,” she says. “I just needed to start again.”
Iten sits at 2,400 meters and has long been a meeting point for runners from all over the world.
“It’s winter back home, so the warmth helps. And there aren’t many places at altitude like this. I also love the culture here. Life moves slower. No one is in a rush, except in traffic.”
It wasn’t her first time. Jill has been to Iten many times. She knows the routine, the discomfort, the rhythm. Yet every altitude camp feels different. “You know what’s coming, but your body never reacts exactly the same,” she explains. “That’s always hard to predict.”
The first days are demanding. Travel, less oxygen, a new rhythm. Heart rate climbs quickly, even during easy runs.
“To stay in zone 1, I sometimes have to almost walk,” Jill laughs. “At home I can run comfortably at 130 bpm. Here, that’s impossible in the beginning.”
“Eat, train, sleep, repeat.”
At altitude, the air contains less oxygen. That means every stride delivers less oxygen to the muscles, forcing the heart to work harder to compensate. The result: a higher heart rate at slower paces, even during easy runs. Over time, the body adapts by becoming more efficient at transporting and using oxygen. That’s where the real benefit lies.
Training at altitude forces adjustment. Workouts become much simpler, like relaxed endurance runs, short hill efforts and fewer sustained tempo sessions. The focus shifts from speed to strength. After about ten days, Jill usually feels the first signs of adaptation. But fully adapted? Never. “It always stays hard.”
Slower paces can trigger doubt. “You start wondering where you stand,” she says. “And when others seem to run faster, that insecurity creeps in. But everyone responds differently to altitude. You have to trust your own process.”
Life in Iten follows a strict but calming rhythm and schedule. Jill’s days started early. Breakfast around 7:00. First training at 9:00, usually a tempo session or a long and easy run. After training, she’d sleep for 45 to 75 minutes before lunch.
Around 16:30 it was time for the second run of the day, followed by strength work in the gym. Dinner was served around 19:00. Evenings were simple, you play card games with others from the guesthouse, read and just wind down. Lights out between 22:00 and 22:30.
“Eat, train, sleep, repeat.”
In Kenya, running is rarely a solo effort. Jill trained alongside athletes from Wales, England and the Netherlands, “There’s always someone to run with. You help each other get better. Running connects people. It’s a shared passion that brings together very different lives.”
Altitude doesn’t offer shortcuts, it builds a foundation. A base toward the marathon. Jill knows she’s a so-called high responder: altitude feels heavy, but back at sea level the benefits usually show.
This time, illness after returning home delayed that effect. Frustrating, but part of the journey.
Qualification for the European Championships in Birmingham is a dream. But it’s not the only thing that matters. “I’ve had a lot of setbacks over the years,” Jill says. “And that’s taught me why I do this. I do it for myself. To see how far I can go.”
Whether the European Championships happen or not, she already feels privileged to live this life. Training every day, traveling for the sport, and committing fully to the process is something she doesn’t take for granted. “To live this way and to work on yourself every day, that alone is something I’m incredibly grateful for.”
When asked to describe the altitude camp in one feeling, Jill smiles.
“Hakuna Matata.”
No worries. And not because it’s easy, but because she knows why she does it.
