There was a stretch of my younger life when I thought limits were made to be ignored.

That mindset was everywhere. Long hours, little rest, always proving I could handle more. And for a while, I could. Until the cracks started showing when “hard work” never ends.

Small injuries lead to chronic fatigue and eventually long-term injuries and pain.

There was a stretch of my old career where “good enough” wasn’t good enough.

That was an actual slogan—painted on walls, baked into reviews, repeated like a badge of honor at every emergency meeting. And for years, I bought into it.

Game development runs on pressure. Everything’s behind schedule. Everything’s one more tweak away from being “done.” You learn to live in that constant grind of almost.

There’s a moment every runner knows — when a run that felt smooth a minute ago suddenly turns heavy.

Your breathing’s fine. Your form’s solid. Everything’s clicking… until it isn’t. The legs stay moving, but the drive’s gone. The run that started strong starts to feel like a grind with every step.

That’s not weakness. That’s a fuel problem — or more accurately, the lack of it.

There’s a point where effort stops paying off.

Where the grind that used to build you starts to blur into fatigue that just drains you.

Most athletes never see that moment coming — because we’re told not to. The culture around us glorifies work ethic, not recovery. We hear it everywhere: Push through. Hustle harder. No days off.

There’s nothing better than feeling in motion — when the work clicks, the effort feels smooth, and you can sense things building.

Momentum has its own kind of energy that feeds on progress. It pulls you forward without you even thinking about it.

But momentum isn’t always consistent. Stay in motion long enough, and what used to feel light starts to feel heavy. The same systems that built your progress to this point start to feel like they’re weighing you down.

Every runner knows they should warm up.

But most rush it — a few leg swings, a couple strides, maybe a stretch or two before jumping straight into their run. Technically, that’s something. But it’s not enough to actually prepare your body to run well.

The warm-up isn’t about doing more. It’s about giving your body the chance to show up ready — instead of spending the first mile trying to catch up.

I talk to a lot of people who treat training like a balance sheet.

They’ll say things like, “I need to make up for that weekend,” “I missed a few days, so I’ll double up,” or “I need to burn off what I ate.”

On the surface, it sounds responsible — like they’re keeping things even. But that mindset doesn’t build anything forward. It keeps you stuck in a loop of making up for things instead of moving ahead.

It’s not that we can’t focus anymore — it’s that the world won’t let us.

Every piece of technology we use is built to compete for our attention. Your phone vibrates. Your inbox pings. Your smartwatch lights up mid-run. Your fridge sends you notifications. Even your toothbrush tracks your brushing streak like it’s a game you can lose.

Every app, every platform, every feed is designed to pull you back in before your mind has time to settle.

I run a lot. I coach running a lot. And when I’m not doing either, I’m usually reading, watching, or studying running a lot.

Running looks simple from the outside — just one foot in front of the other.

But once you get past the surface, it’s one of the most complex, fascinating things I’ve ever studied. The deeper you go, the more you realize how many variables and how much nuance there is — including how much of performance isn’t about effort, but about understanding.

You know that cycle where you’re either all in or not so much?

You get fired up, dive headfirst into a new plan, crush every workout… and then life tilts. Work piles up, sleep slips, and before you know it, the momentum’s gone. A few weeks later, the guilt kicks in—and the next “restart” begins.

It’s not a lack of discipline. It’s human.

We live in a world built around outsourcing.

Convenience is great — until we start expecting it to solve things that can’t be delegated.

You can hire help for your schedule, your house, even your meals, but not for your choices.

I was out at the Long Beach Marathon this weekend, cheering on a few runners I coach.

Perfect weather, big turnout, and tons of energy from the community.  It’s always fun to watch—thousands of people chasing their own finish lines.

But as I stood there, I started noticing the same patterns I’ve seen at every race.

We all have an idea of the “perfect” workout in our heads.

The one where the schedule lines up, your energy is high, the weather cooperates, and you finish strong with the numbers to prove it.

Those sessions feel amazing — and when they happen, they stick with you. The problem is, we start to treat that version of training as the standard.

Last weekend, I walked out to my car already thinking ahead to the day. Twenty minutes before I needed to leave, I turned the key — nothing. Dead battery.

In an instant, my whole morning flipped. What was supposed to be a fun morning meetup suddenly turned into a scramble of stress and problem-solving.

Moments like that can feel heavier than they are. It’s easy to stack frustration on top of inconvenience until it feels like the whole day is set up against you.

When most runners think about injury prevention, the checklist looks familiar. Mileage, pace, shoes, strength, stretching — the usual suspects.

What usually doesn’t make the list is the surface beneath your feet.

Most of us never even think about it. We assume concrete, asphalt, trails, treadmills — it’s all the same. But it isn’t.

When most people think about fitness, they picture the gym. Dumbbells, barbells, treadmills, stairmasters, spin classes — the “real” work only counts when it’s intense and sweaty.

But some of the most important fitness you’ll ever build doesn’t come from workouts at all. It comes from the small choices you make every day — the way you move between tasks, during breaks, and through your normal routine.

We tell ourselves we’ll start once everything’s lined up just right.

Once the calendar clears. Once the confidence shows up. Once the plan feels airtight. Once the timing finally makes sense.

It feels smart, even responsible at times, to wait for “perfect conditions.” But underneath, it’s often hesitation disguised as preparation.

If you’ve spent any time around runners, you’ve probably heard some of the “rules.”

Keep your cadence at 180. Shorten your stride. Land midfoot. Run tall. Elbows at ninety degrees. Relax your hands. Don’t bounce. And so much more.

Run like the elites.

It sounds simple, almost scientific — like there’s one perfect formula for efficient running. But the more you chase those rules, the more confusing it gets.

We’ve all heard it: your 20s are your prime. After that, it’s downhill.

Stronger when you’re young, slower when you’re older. Peak in your 30s, decline in your 40s, and by 50 you should be settling for less.

That story has been told so often people take it as fact. But the numbers don’t back it up.

We all carry more weight than we realize—beyond work, family, or training, there’s the invisible load of half-commitments.

It feels easier in the moment. Easier not to rock the boat. Easier not to risk judgment. Easier not to lock yourself into a path you can’t back out of.

But that “ease” is temporary—the weight of all those half-choices only piles up heavier with time.