On the drive home from my most recent race, I was giving a friend my recap, a super technical course, yet I finished about an hour faster than I expected!
At one point she mentioned that she had been talking about my running with one of her friends. The context was my last few years of racing and the unfinished business I have ahead in 2026: Another crack atSC125 & the future FKT attempt.
Her friend had recently completed the NYC Marathon. Which is a huge accomplishment. But the phrase that stuck with me came from my friend, not her marathon-running friend. “I could never do that.”
I hear that phrase all the time. About running. About work. About health. About money. About change in general. And I always want to gently push back on it. Because most of the time, it's not that you can't. It's that you won't. That might sound harsh at first, but I don't mean it as a judgment. I mean it as clarity.
When people say, “I could never do that,” what they're usually saying is:
– I don't want to rearrange my life for that.
– I don't want to be uncomfortable for that.
– I don't want to commit to the process that comes with that.
And that's okay. Not everything needs to be a goal.
I tell people all the time that what I've done in running isn't that special. It doesn't require superhuman genetics or monk-like discipline. It usually comes down to three things.
First, being physically able to participate. That matters, and it's worth acknowledging. Not everyone starts from the same place.
Second, training appropriately for the goal. Which often means far less than people assume. You don't need 50-mile weeks to run a 5K or a 10K. You don't need perfect conditions. You need consistency & patience.
Third, and this is the big one, actually wanting to do it. Not liking the idea of it. Wanting the day-to-day work enough to keep showing up.
That same framework applies far beyond running.
A job you hate but never leave.
A business idea you talk about but never start.
Getting out of debt.
Building community.
Taking care of your health.
In most cases, the barrier isn't ability. It's choice.
And once you acknowledge that, something interesting happens. You get your agency back.
Instead of saying “I can't,” you can say:
“I'm choosing not to.”
“I'm not ready yet.”
“That's not a priority right now.”
Those are honest answers. And honesty creates options.
If you do decide you want something, the next step isn't grinding harder. It's setting yourself up to succeed.
Ask for help.
Find a mentor.
Find a club or group.
Surround yourself with people who normalize the thing you want to do.
Meaningful changes don't happen in isolation. They happen in community. So the next time you catch yourself saying, “I could never do that,” pause for a second. Ask whether it's really about ability, or whether it's about choice.
And if it's a choice, own it. Either direction is valid. But clarity beats resignation every time.