Do What You Can with What You Got: Building mental flexibility that wins races -

Do What You Can

Flexibility isn’t just a physical thing—it’s the mental superpower that keeps you moving when everything else is trying to stop you.

In an ultramarathon, the race doesn’t care that the weather turned to crap, the trail is a river of slush, or that your quads are screaming because the course has more roots than a family reunion.

It only cares that you keep putting one foot in front of the other. That’s it.

I’ve been reminding myself of this lately while training in the kind of New England spring that feels more like February 2.0: snow, slush, ice, and the occasional hidden rock that wants to ruin your day. Conditions like these used to wreck my headspace. I’d slip into negativity—“This sucks, I’m not built for this, why am I even out here?”—and the run would turn into a suffer-fest instead of training.

But I’ve learned to flip the script.

“Start where you are, use what you have, do what you can.”

– Arthur Ashe

That quote hits different when you’re 20 miles into a training run and the trail looks like a skating rink. I slow down on the sketchy sections. I shorten my stride. I actually smile when I hit a patch that feels more like beach sand than snow. And yeah, I came up with my own version of “mind over matter” during one of those ugly miles:

“If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

The race doesn’t care why it’s hard. The clock doesn’t care. Your crew doesn’t care. The only thing that matters is how you respond.

Why flexibility is non-negotiable in ultras

When you train both physically and mentally, you stop fighting the conditions and start flowing with them. That’s resilience. That’s what turns “I hope I finish” into “I will finish—no matter what the day throws at me.”

I’ve seen it pay off in the races that tried to break me the most.

Take the two ultras that live rent-free in my head whenever I’m grinding through bad weather:

Badwater Cape Fear 51.4-miler (I’ve done it three times)
Temptation 200k

Both of those courses are basically a giant sandbox. Miles and miles of soft, energy-sucking sand that makes every step feel like you’re running in slow motion. The first time I hit that terrain I wanted to quit. My legs were burning, my mind was spiraling, and every mile felt impossible.

But I remembered: Do what you can with what you got.

I shortened my stride. I focused on the next 100 meters instead of the next 50 miles. I found little pockets of firmer ground and celebrated them like mile markers. I turned the suffering into a game.

And here’s the beautiful part: every miserable snow-slush-ice training run I’m doing right now is secretly preparing me for the next time I toe the line on sand, mud, heat, or whatever curveball the race director dreams up. The body adapts. The mind adapts faster when you train it on purpose.

How to practice this mindset right now (even on your next training run)

1. Catch the negative story early.

When your brain starts the “this sucks” monologue, pause and name it: “Okay, that’s just my brain trying to protect me.” Then replace it with one neutral or positive fact: “This is building the exact resilience I’ll need on race day.”

2. Control what you can.

You can’t change the weather. But you can change your pace, your posture, your breathing, and your attitude. Slow down, stay upright, smile (yes, actually smile—it tricks your brain into feeling better), and keep moving.

3. Turn adversity into play.

In the snow? Pretend you’re a kid again. Splash through the slush on purpose. High-five a tree. Make it ridiculous. That lightness travels straight into your race-day mindset.

4. Pre-race rehearsal.

During training, deliberately seek out “bad” conditions once a week. Run in the rain. Run when it’s 90°. Run when you’re tired and cranky. Each time you choose to adapt instead of complain, you’re wiring flexibility into your ultra brain.

The payoff is real

Every time I finish a training run in conditions that would have broken me a few years ago, I feel it: quiet confidence. Not cocky—just calm. Because I know I’ve already practiced showing up exactly as I am, with exactly what I’ve got, and doing what I can.

That’s the mindset that carries you across the finish line when the wheels start to come off at mile 80… or 120… or whenever your race decides to test you.

So next time the trail throws you a curveball—snow, sand, heat, whatever—remember the simple truth: Do what you can with what you got.

The race doesn’t care.
But you will.