No matter what is happening……..life doesn’t wait for anyone.

There’s a romantic idea about ultra running.

Long trails. Sunrise starts. Quiet roads. Muddy paths. The feeling of being completely free with nothing but your thoughts, your watch and however many miles are still left to go.

And sometimes it really is like that.

But the reality is a lot less glamorous.

Sometimes ultra training is getting home after a long day, mentally drained, dealing with the usual bullshit life throws at you, looking at your running shoes and thinking:

Do I really have to go out now?

Yes.

Sometimes you do.

Not because you feel motivated.

Not because you particularly want to.

Not because the weather is perfect or your legs are fresh.

You go because you said you would, and you need to keep that promise to yourself.

That’s the difference between wanting to run an ultra and actually training for one.

Life doesn’t stop because you have a training plan.

Work still happens. People still let you down. Plans still change. Responsibilities pile up. Things go wrong. And every now and then you have to deal with someone who seems to have made it their personal mission to test every last bit of your patience.

And that’s when the training becomes something more than running.

Because you can’t control other people.

You can’t control whether someone is unreasonable, selfish, rude, negative or just plain difficult.

You can’t control the traffic.

You can’t control the weather.

You can’t control whether you’ve had a shit day.

But you can control what you do next.

You can put your shoes on.

You can step outside.

You can start moving.

And sometimes that is enough.

I’ve had runs where I’ve headed out carrying the weight of the entire day on my shoulders. Angry. Frustrated. Tired. Mentally somewhere else entirely.

Then, five or six miles in, something starts to change.

The breathing settles.

The noise in your head gets quieter.

The problems haven’t disappeared, but somehow they don’t seem quite as important.

The miles have a way of stripping things back.

One foot.

Then the other.

Again.

And again.

And again.

That’s what I love about ultra running.

It doesn’t care about your excuses.

It doesn’t care about your bad mood.

It doesn’t care if somebody pissed you off at work.

It doesn’t care if you’ve had an argument, if you’re stressed about something, or if you’re having one of those days where everything seems to be going wrong.

The trail just sits there waiting.

And the miles are still there.

You either do them or you don’t.

Of course, there are days when the right decision is to rest. Consistency isn’t about being stupid. It’s not about grinding yourself into the ground to prove some point.

But there is a massive difference between genuinely needing rest and looking for a reason not to do the work.

I’ve learned to recognise that difference.

Because motivation is unreliable.

It comes and goes.

Discipline is different.

Discipline says, You don’t have to enjoy this. Just start.

And that’s probably one of the biggest things ultra running has taught me.

You don’t need to feel strong to act strong.

You don’t need to feel positive to keep going.

You don’t need to have everything figured out.

Sometimes you just need to keep moving while your head is telling you to stop.

And that applies far beyond running.

There are days in life when you will feel completely fed up.

There are people who will drain you.

There are situations that will frustrate you.

There will be moments when you wonder why you’re putting yourself through any of it.

But you have to be careful about giving difficult people too much space in your head.

They don’t deserve your run.

They don’t deserve your peace.

They certainly don’t deserve to become the reason you stop doing something that matters to you.

So I’ve started trying to leave some of that shit at the door.

Put the shoes on.

Go outside.

Run.

Let the miles absorb some of the anger and frustration.

Let the hills hurt a little.

Let the legs complain.

Let the brain finally shut up for a while.

And keep going.

Because there is something incredibly satisfying about finishing a run you didn’t want to start.

Not because it was fast.

Not because it was pretty.

Not because you smashed a personal best.

Simply because you turned up when it would have been easier not to.

Those are the runs I remember.

The horrible ones.

The wet ones.

The cold ones.

The runs after a shit day.

The runs where the legs felt heavy and the head wasn’t in it.

The ones where five miles felt like fifty.

Because those are the runs that build something.

Not just endurance.

Character.

Patience.

Resilience.

The ability to tolerate discomfort without immediately trying to escape it.

And that matters when you’re training for an ultra, because eventually the race is going to hurt.

There will be a point when the excitement has disappeared.

When the finish line is still miles away.

When your feet hurt.

When your legs are screaming.

When you’re tired enough to question every life decision that brought you there.

That’s when all these ordinary training days matter.

Every time you got out when you didn’t want to.

Every time you kept your promise to yourself.

Every time life was difficult and you still found a way to get the miles done.

You’re building a reserve.

A mental bank account.

And when things get dark during the ultra, you can draw on it.

You can tell yourself:

I’ve been here before.

I’ve been tired before.

I’ve been uncomfortable before.

I’ve had bad days before.

I’ve wanted to stop before.

And I kept going.

That’s the real training.

Not just the mileage recorded on a watch.

It’s the accumulation of small decisions to keep showing up.

Day after day.

Week after week.

Even when life gets messy.

Even when people get difficult.

Even when motivation disappears.

Because the truth is, you don’t get to choose the conditions every day.

You only get to choose how you respond to them.

So I’m going to keep running.

I’ll deal with the hassles.

I’ll navigate the difficult people.

I’ll have the bad days.

I’ll probably get pissed off more times than I care to admit.

But then I’ll put my shoes on.

I’ll get outside.

And I’ll get the miles done.

Because the miles don’t care what kind of day you’ve had.

And neither does the finish line.

**Keep showing up. Keep moving. Keep your head. Get the miles done.**

Mike

UltraEnduranceLab.