Dream Far, Race Here

On racing from where you are, not where you wish you were.

Last week I dropped biking from my training plan. Just like that. I’d been using it to keep the volume up while my body couldn’t handle more running. Hours on the indoor bike, staring at a wall, trying to maintain a base that was slipping away from me anyway.

And then one morning I just didn’t feel like it anymore. I wanted to just run. Not pedal. Not cross-train. Run. Even if it meant less volume. Even if it meant starting slower than I’d like.

Reflecting on it, I think something deeper was happening. I’d been pushing against reality for months. I signed up for Lavaredo and Eiger back in September — two 50k races with lotteries, both in June and July. I got lucky with the slots. And that luck quickly turned into pressure.

When I signed up, I assumed I’d be back to full fitness in a month or two. That was five months ago. I’m still running a third of my typical volume. I still have this hip tendon issue that gets better but never fully goes away. Now I realise, the races I was excited about became deadlines I was training against.

What I did right, and stopped doing

I know how to train well. I’ve done it before.

Before my 70k — my longest race to date — I built up for over a year. Increased volume slowly and consistently. Did daily mobility work. Strength training two to three times a week. No shortcuts, no rushing. And it showed. I went into that race healthy, resilient, and ready.

But somehow I forgot how many little things I did right back then. Or maybe I didn’t forget. I just stopped doing them. The mobility work became occasional. The strength sessions dropped off. I earned that fitness, and then I acted like it would stick around without the same effort.

Now I’m sitting here at 35, feeling the pull from two sides. I know I’m still fairly young in the ultra world. I’ve seen people five, ten years older racing beautifully. On my 70k, a guy in his fifties placed right behind me, finishing fifth. But still, this thought creeps in: what if I’m running out of time to reach my potential? It’s irrational. I know it is. And yet it’s there.

Dream far

I want to run a 100k someday. That’s the dream. And I think dreams like that are important: they give direction, they pull you forward, they keep the fire alive on days when training feels flat.

But here’s what I’ve learned, and what I keep having to re-learn: the dream is a compass, not a deadline.

When you look at professional distance runners, many of them start with shorter distances. They spend years building their bodies before stepping up. Francesco Puppi, for example, is only recently moving into longer races after years of excelling at shorter ones. There’s something deeply right about that. The body needs time. The training needs to fit into your life. And honestly, training for a 100k takes a serious amount of time out of your week. You can’t jump into that from nothing.

I for myself have this simple test: if I can put in a solid six-week training block and know, truly know, that I could race a certain distance, then I’m ready for it. If not, I’m not. And that’s okay. That just means I have to raise the bar. Slowly. Over months and years. More volume, more quality, more consistency. With ups and downs for recovery. Proper training, aimed at stepping up. Not skipping steps.

And the races along the way? They should match where I actually am, not where I dream of being. If I’m fit for a 50k, I should race a 50k. Not because it’s less than my dream — but because it’s real. It’s honest. It reflects the work I’ve actually done.

Race here

So where does that leave me with Lavaredo and Eiger?

Honestly, I don’t think they’re realistic right now. Not if I want to build back the right way. I’d need at least two to three more months before I should even think about proper intensity again. And that’s me being hopeful. I haven’t cancelled them. I can still decide closer to the date, maybe do one instead of both. But I’m starting to make peace with the idea that forcing it would be doing exactly what this newsletter is arguing against.

And that’s hard. It’s hard because I got lucky with those lottery slots. It’s hard because part of me feels like I should be further along after nearly a decade in this sport. But what I actually want — what I truly want — is to train well. Week after week. To find a rhythm that keeps me healthy, resilient, and running decades from now. Not just this summer.

I think I have to let go of the agenda. Keep the dream. Let go of the timeline.

Maybe I was just tired last week when I threw in the towel on the bike. I got sick right after, so something was already brewing. But even writing this now, I can feel the motivation coming back. Not the frantic kind. The quiet kind. The kind that says: do this right. Do the mobility. Do the strength. Run what you can. Build from here.

One important side note: There’s a question I hear often in ultra running circles: what’s the longest you’ve ever run? As if the answer defines you. As if further always means better. But I think there’s something equally great about deciding to get really good at a certain distance. To race technical 50k’s near the top. To master trail half marathons. The dream doesn’t have to be longer — it just has to be yours. And you build toward it honestly, from exactly where you are.

I’m dreaming far and racing here. Right now that means boring weeks of building back. Choosing the right thing over the exciting thing. Trusting that the distance will come when the body and the training say it’s time. Not when the ego does.

What distance are you actually ready for right now — not the one you tell people about, but the one your body and your training honestly support?

---

Your training story could help.

I’m currently building an app for runners who want to show up, not off. If you recently switched your training app, left your coach or changed your training approach I would love to hear your story. It might shape what I build. Just book yourself a slot.