that’s runnable

The 43rd Edition of a weekly running email about more than just running

It’s easy to be honest when it doesn’t cost you anything. But the kind that demands growth usually starts with admitting something you’ve been trying to ignore.

New content in the Hub!

Thank you to everyone who has joined as a member or purchased a piece of content from the Hub! This week, I broke my phone and mic so was unable to complete a course I’m excited to release on SHIN SPLINTS. This is coming though, so watch this space!

Something to Think About 💭

“There’s no freedom without truth and no truth without pain.”

Something to Ask Yourself ❓

What truth about your training have you been quietly avoiding, hoping you could get away with ignoring it?

Article of the Week 📄

This piece digs into why runners often ignore pain – blame it on stubbornness, denial, or the glorification of pushing through. It unpacks the risks of sidelining warning signs and how this mindset can lead to long-term damage. Read it if you’ve ever told yourself, “It’s probably nothing” mid-run.

Track of the Week 🎶

Had this song on repeat this week, throw it in ya playlists!

this week’s Track of the Week is:

Short n’ sweet by Daniel Stark (2023)

By the way, if you didn’t know, I put all these tracks in a Spotify playlist…

Personal Lesson

I recently DNF’d Lone Wolf.

The kind of event that demands resilience. Where you loop and loop until you can’t any more – either mentally or physically. For me, it was physical. I made a decision to stop and avoid any long term damage. But the pain didn’t surprise me. The DNF didn’t come out of nowhere. I didn’t fall, or roll an ankle, or get unlucky. I got exactly what I’d earned.

Almost 2 years ago, I’d had a major issue with my tibialis posterior, a little muscle with a big role. I got into physio and committed to the rehab when it was bad. I was doing the work. I was disciplined. And then, it felt better. Not perfect, just not screaming and not stopping me from training. And in that silence, I got lazy. I stopped the drills. Skipped the routines. I let the absence of crisis become permission to abandon the process.

The thing about brutal honesty is, it whispers. It’s the small voice that says, “You know this isn’t fixed,” when you lace up for another big week. It’s the pause before you tell yourself, “I’ll do the rehab later.” It’s the unease you ignore when momentum feels better than maintenance.

And here’s what hit me hardest: it wasn’t just laziness. It was dishonesty. I told myself a half-truth: “I’m good now.” Not because I believed it, but because I wanted to believe it. Because owning the full truth meant more work. It meant inconvenience. I didn’t want to deal with that. But when things you know are true are not dealt with, they will show up one day, and it might be in a fashion you’re incapable of dealing with.

Brutal honesty isn’t just about calling yourself out. It’s about staying with the truth, even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it’s boring. Even when it doesn’t feel necessary right now.

Running – Life’s Metaphor

Running forces you to confront what’s unresolved. You can get away with denial for a while, but the body is honest in a way the mind often isn’t. Every skipped rep, every avoided truth, every quiet compromise, it all shows up. Not always immediately, but inevitably. Just like in life: the conversations you avoid, the self-respect you postpone, the responsibility you dodge all builds. And when it does, it’s not punishment. It’s the natural conclusion of dishonesty.

Final Thoughts

Brutal honesty is not the enemy of growth. It’s the prerequisite.

It’s the choice to stop outsourcing blame. To stop pretending you didn’t know better. To stop dressing your neglect in “trusting the process” or “listening to your body” when really, you’re just hoping to dodge the consequence of inconsistency.

And yet, it’s also the most freeing thing you can offer yourself. Because once you see he truth, fully, you can act on it. You’re no longer reacting to issues, you’re preventing them. You’re not scrambling to undo damage when it feels too late, you’re investing in durability.

In life, in training, in love, in work: what you don’t face, you drag. And what you drag, eventually drags you back.

So start now. Start again. Be relentless about it. Look for the places where you’ve eased off just because it wasn’t “that bad.” Ask yourself what systems you abandoned the moment you felt okay. Be honest about the gap between what you say matters and what your actions show.

Because true strength, whether it’s in a race or in a relationship, comes from the parts no one sees. The rehab. The reflection. The tiny, uncelebrated repetitions of responsibility.

And when you do that consistently, when you live with truth, even when it’s hard, you don’t just avoid pain. You become someone you can trust.

And that’s the real win.