You might be approaching race goals backward.

One of my core philosophies is this: your brain is the best tool you have. There's always a way to use it to help you solve any problem and make your goals easier to reach.

Night running is a perfect example.

If you dread trying to stay awake during a night section, this is for you. And if you love night running - same thing. Because you can love it and still hit an unexpected wall with it in a race. I have.

In your upcoming race, you’re determined to avoid mistakes that would jeopardize your finish, especially ‘stupid’ ones. 

Going out too fast is at the top of that list. 

It’s the most basic, common piece of ultra advice given. Everybody knows not to do it…and yet you do.

Late in a race, when you're exhausted and the finish is still too far away to feel real, you're convinced you want out.

You want to be done. You want to see the finish line, or at least the next aid station. You want the race to be over.

But here's what's actually true: you don't want to be done. You want to keep gaining.

You just forgot.

You've done the training. You've logged the miles. You've shown up week after week.

And then, as you taper, you start feeling more doubt. There’s a highlight reel of failures running through your mind on repeat, and it won’t stop.

That's not weakness and it’s not a sign you're not ready. That's a very specific mental glitch that almost every ultrarunner experiences, and once you understand what's actually happening, you can stop letting it run the show.

Picture this: you're at mile 60 of a 100, you're wrecked, and your pacer is telling you what to eat. Your crew is debating whether you should sit down or get out. Everyone has an opinion. And you're just...going along with whatever they tell you. Whoever is the most insistent or loudest.

Over 25 years of ultrarunning, I've watched this happen to countless runners. I see it out on course, and I see it with my coaching clients - often before they can see it themselves. And I want to name what's actually happening in that moment, because most runners don't recognize it until after the race when something feels off and they can't quite say what.

You've handed your race over to your team. And it's hurting you. And them.

My client Michelle recently DNF'd what was supposed to be her first 100-mile finish.

On the face of it, that sounds like defeat. Failure. But it was anything but.

The race started normally — it was supposed to rain, but the rain held off. A good omen.

You might be approaching race goals backward.

You look at the race, assess what seems achievable, pick something you're pretty sure you can defend if questioned, and call that your goal. Then you train for it and execute.

The result? An "ok" race. Not bad. But not what you're capable of either. And that nagging feeling that you held something back.

Here's what's actually happening: you're not picking goals based on what you want. You're picking a goal you can defend if you fail.

"Always be learning.”

That's one of the biggest lessons my dad taught me, and one that I love. Because I love learning and growing, and I'm guessing you do too. Otherwise, you wouldn't be an ultrarunner. A 5k would suffice.

But there are two ways to learn in ultrarunning.

You crossed the finish line of your first ultra. Or maybe you finished your first 100-mile race. Perhaps you even placed in your age group.

It was everything you'd hoped for and more—the kind of race that makes all the training, all the schedule changes, all the doubt worth it.

And now? Now you're thinking about racing again.

But you can't shake this feeling. This dread that whispers: “What if I can't do it again?”

You did it. 

You finally signed up for that race - maybe it's your first ultra, a technical mountain race, or simply a distance that pushes your boundaries. 

But now as race day approaches, instead of excitement building, a different feeling is taking over: intimidation.

You did it. 

You finally signed up for that race - maybe it's your first ultra, a technical mountain race, or simply a distance that pushes your boundaries. 

But now as race day approaches, instead of excitement building, a different feeling is taking over: intimidation.

Picture this: You're grinding through mile 80 of a 100-mile ultramarathon. 

You’re exhausted, but your determination is strong. You're keeping a good pace, you’re at peace being in the back of the pack, and you're going to do everything you can to make it to that buckle.

Then you hear footsteps behind you.

I had a session recently with a client who was preparing for her first 100K finish.

As we discussed her race strategy, I brought up something I cover with every runner I coach: one of the biggest distractions in any race isn't the terrain, the weather, or even your own fatigue—it's other runners.

She looked surprised. "Other runners? I thought having company was helpful."

It's a common misconception, and one that can cost you your best race.

I met him around mile 40 of a tough 100-mile race.

As we settled into pace together, the conversation naturally turned to our race goals.

"This is my third try at the hundred," he said with a rueful laugh. "Dropped out at 70 miles last year in this race. And tried another earlier this year and same thing—70 miles in that one too."

A client came to me heartbroken after another DNF.

She thought she was behind cutoff and wouldn't make the next aid station, so she slowed to a leisurely pace. When she arrived, she was pulled from the race—only to discover she hadn’t actually been behind cutoff and could have made it if she'd kept moving strong.

With multiple DNFs behind her, she worried she'd used faulty math to justify dropping. Had she unconsciously self-sabotaged? And now, examining her race decisions, she feared she was second-guessing herself—something she'd been told she shouldn't do.

Worried the race will be harder than you can handle?

It might be.

That’s a risk we take, every race.

Ahead of a race, you might wonder— will I go into this race, be way out of my depth, and end up not making it?

Let’s say you DNF’d your last few races.

Maybe you got pulled or maybe you dropped, but either way, you’re tired of coming up short.

It’s demoralizing, so you decide on a new strategy: Find something easy to finish.

It happens.

You glance at your watch and see your heart rate is higher than you planned. Or you notice you’re running faster than your goal pace. Or you realize you’re working harder than you meant to this early in the race.

Oh no, you think. This is bad. I’ve blown it.

In an ultra, being uncomfortable is guaranteed.

But sometimes, it all hits at once—your legs tighten up, your stomach turns, your emotions flare—and suddenly it feels like a massive boulder has landed right in your path.

You can’t go over it.

You can’t go around it.

You feel stuck.

But here’s the thing: that boulder isn’t just one thing. It’s three things combined together.

I had a really bad long run this weekend.

My next 100-miler is in a month, so I’m ramping up my training. I tried a new course that I knew would be challenging and gave myself the whole day to finish it—plenty of time to go slow and adjust.

But I made some key mistakes, it was harder than I expected, and as a result I ran poorly—and only got half the miles I planned.

The thought that kept running through my head as I finished: “This is a disaster.”