There’s a moment after every race that almost feels scripted.
You cross the line, stop your watch, catch your breath… and then your brain sprints straight past the finish line into self-critique.
I should’ve paced better. I should’ve pushed harder. I should’ve fueled differently. I should’ve held on.
The Should Monster is undefeated.
And honestly? It’s exhausting. Because it assumes you had access to some magical reservoir of extra strength, discipline, or motivation that you simply chose not to use. As if you willingly left “better” on the table.
But here’s the truth we rarely say out loud:
If you could have done better, you would have.
Not the imaginary you. Not the best-case-scenario you. The you who woke up that morning with that body, that mindset, that weather, that hormone profile, that life stress, that history. The real you.
This philosophy hit me hard the first time I read Matt Fitzgerald’s writing on perception and effort. It felt like someone had cracked open a door I’d been banging on for years—especially as a Masters athlete, someone in surgical menopause, someone coaching runners with complex lives and complex bodies.
It’s one of the most liberating truths in sport.
Why This Reframe Matters More Than We Think
Running is not a sterile lab test. It’s a lived experience filtered through biology, psychology, and circumstance. We love to pretend performance is purely about fitness, but any athlete over 30 knows better. At 40, 50, 60+? We really know better.
Your output on race day is influenced by:
your sleep, or lack of it
your fueling leading up to the race
your hormone fluctuations
your stress load
your emotional bandwidth
your nervous system regulation
your gut
your hydration
your recovery bank
your history with adversity
your belief in yourself
your willingness to suffer
your mood
your weather
your pace discipline
your biomechanics
your environment
All of that is happening simultaneously.
And yet we distill it down to:
“I should’ve run faster.”
You see how absurd that sounds when we zoom out?
Perception of Effort Is Part of Performance
This is the piece runners often ignore.
Your brain—your perception of effort—is the governor of your race. Not your watch. Not your coach. Not your training plan.
If your body or brain increased the sensation of effort at mile 18, something caused that. That wasn’t weakness. It was physiology delivering a memo.
And that’s where compassion meets data.
That’s where growth actually happens.
Self-Blame Doesn’t Build Better Athletes
A lot of runners think self-hatred builds resilience. That beating yourself up is somehow a shortcut to self-improvement.
It’s not.
Self-blame doesn’t help you run faster.
Shame doesn’t improve your lactate threshold.
Regret doesn’t sharpen your mental toughness.
Curiosity does.
Awareness does.
Honesty does.
When my athletes come to me after a race and say, “I should’ve been better,” I nearly always respond with, “Could you have, really? Tell me what was happening in that moment.”
Ninety-nine percent of the time, the story reveals why the performance makes perfect sense.
This Is Especially True for Masters and Menopausal Athletes
This philosophy hits even deeper for runners navigating midlife transitions—because the body you think you’re racing with is often not the body you actually have that day.
Hormones shift. Recovery shifts. Heat tolerance shifts. Sleep quality shifts. Stress response shifts.
You’re adapting in real time, even on race day.
And yet the expectation stays stuck in a younger version of yourself.
That gap between expectation and reality?
That’s where shame festers.
This philosophy closes that gap.
It brings the room back to reality.
It replaces self-attack with self-understanding.
You’re Allowed to Want More AND Be Proud Now
These things can coexist:
“I wanted a faster time.”
“I’m disappointed.”
“I’m also proud of what I did today.”
Self-compassion doesn’t erase ambition.
It strengthens it.
Ambition built on shame collapses quickly.
Ambition built on truth lasts.
The Question That Changes Everything
Next time the “I could have done better” spiral starts, ask:
Given everything I had in me today—physically, emotionally, mentally, hormonally, environmentally—did I do the best I could in that moment?
If the answer is yes, honor it.
If the answer is no, get curious—not cruel.
If the answer is “I don’t know,” that’s where your work begins.
Because here’s the real secret…
When you stop beating yourself up, you finally make space for better performance.
That clarity doesn’t come from punishment—it comes from perspective.
You didn’t fail.
You didn’t fall short.
You didn’t waste a race.
You learned something.
You grew.
You adapted.
You showed up.
And if you could have done better?
You would have.
If this idea hits home and you want to train the part of running that actually determines your performance, my Central Governor Guide goes deeper into the psychology behind effort, pacing, perception, and mental resilience. It’s built for Masters and menopausal athletes who want to run smarter, not harder, by understanding how the brain protects—and sometimes limits—performance.
And if you’re craving mindset support that isn’t toxic positivity or drill-sergeant energy, keep exploring. This is the kind of work that builds a different caliber of athlete.
Related reads:
Curious about how this ties into race-day execution? My breakdown of Managing Pre-Race Anxiety explores how nerves and perception of effort work together during peak training.
If you’re navigating performance shifts in midlife, you might also appreciate Menopause Running Fatigue: Why You're Tired (And It’s Not Just Hormones).