Road runners are control freaks — and I say that lovingly.
You thrive on structure. Splits. Predictable routes. Perfect pacing.
Then someone drags you onto a trail, and suddenly your Garmin looks like it’s gaslighting you.
The pace drops. The heart rate spikes. You trip over a root that looked innocent enough until it ruined your rhythm.
Welcome to trail running — where “let go or get humbled” is basically the motto.
If you’ve built your identity around hitting specific numbers, the trails will destroy your ego before mile one.
That’s the point.
Trail running isn’t about control; it’s about adaptability.
Every surface, incline, and curve demands something different from your body.
You stop managing pace and start managing effort.
When you stop fighting that shift, everything gets better.
Here’s what I love about trails — they strip running down to pure movement.
No constant glances at your watch. No judgment about whether your pace is “good enough.”
Just running.
You start to notice your breathing again.
You tune into how your body responds to terrain.
You lean into gravity on descents, engage your core on climbs, and feel like a damn kid again.
It’s not slower. It’s different.
If you’re coming from the road world, try this reframe:
Trail pace ≠ road pace.
Trail fitness ≠ road fitness.
Trail joy ≠ road obsession.
Every step is an adjustment.
Every run is an adventure.
And no — your watch still won’t understand it. That’s part of the fun.
There’s a mental shift too.
On the road, one second off pace can ruin your mood.
On the trail, a surprise hill or technical section might eat an entire minute — and that’s fine. You’re not chasing perfection; you’re chasing presence.
If you can embrace that, you’ll carry it back to the road with more patience, better proprioception, and stronger legs than you’ve ever had.
Trail running doesn’t care if you’re fast. It cares if you’re present.
It asks you to look up, breathe deeper, and actually experience the miles.
You don’t have to be “good” at it. You just have to show up and be willing to get dirty — literally and metaphorically.
Trail running isn’t the enemy of progress — it’s the teacher of adaptability.
When you let go of control, you find flow.
And sometimes, that’s exactly what your running needed.
Coach Croft’s Tip
If this resonated, check out The Alchemist’s Challenge: 30 Days to Spark Flow, Fire, and Gold.
It’s built to help you find your rhythm again — in running, training, or whatever else feels a little too rigid right now.
The trails taught me one thing: flow doesn’t happen when you’re in control. It happens when you finally stop trying to be.