When I returned to what I’d consider a more focused training block, it all came naturally. I wasn’t putting up wild numbers or chasing PRs—I was just showing up every day with intention and staying within myself. Easy runs were truly easy. Workouts were sharp and purposeful. No overreaching, no ego. Just stacking bricks, day after day.

I signed up for the Tushars Mountain Runs as a training race for the Run Rabbit Run 50-miler in September. I’d never raced at high altitude before, and with Tushars’ relentless climbing and descending, it felt like the right terrain to test myself. The plan wasn’t to race it aggressively—it was to show up, get the work in, and learn.

And when race day came, I felt calm. Grounded. A reflection, I think, of the consistency I’d built. As we set off, I tucked into the front group. Within the first few miles, two runners surged ahead on a climb. I followed briefly, but almost immediately recognized it was too early and too much. I let them go. I reminded myself why I was there—to run my race, not chase someone else’s. That small decision—stepping back, not taking the bait—ended up defining the rest of the day.

Unintentionally, I locked into third place at that point and held it for the entire race. And to my surprise, the day was… smooth. No stomach issues. No cramping. No botched fueling. No mental spirals. Just a steady, even effort from start to finish. I even had enough left to push the last five miles hard and finish strong.

Looking back, it was probably the cleanest race I’ve ever run—not in terms of speed or glory, but in execution. And that felt good. No drama, no heroics. Just clarity, control, and consistency.

I have a tendency to overcomplicate things—push harder than needed, turn a race into a proving ground. But not this time. On that day, I knew exactly what I wanted from the effort, exactly what I was capable of, and I did no more and no less. I think that’s what it really means to race smart—not playing it safe, but making every move count. Not chasing noise, but letting the work speak for