Mental Performance: How “Unhooking” From Negative Thoughts Can Save Your Race

Written by:

Neal Palles

CTS Senior Ultrarunning Coach

Updated On

November 12, 2025

As a CTS Ultrarunning Coach and Certified Mental Performance Consultant® (CMPC) through the Association for Applied Sport Psychology, my own races are opportunities to “walk the walk” when it comes to mental performance strategies. A few weeks ago, a mysterious problem with my calves during the Javelina Jundred challenged my desire to persevere and I was faced with a scenario many ultramarathon runners can relate to: To quit or not to quit. I’ll save you the suspense, I finished the race. What’s more important for you, though, are the lessons you can learn from how I managed the mental performance crisis.

How my Javelina Jundred troubles started

Following a short recovery period after the Lead Challenge, I dove into what turned out to be one of the best run training blocks I’ve had in years. With Javelina Jundred on the horizon, I was maximumly prepared for to race. I completed a three-day training and recon camp at McDowell Mountain Regional Park in Arizona. I accumulated weeks of high-volume training interspersed with long steady state efforts on similar terrain, and I heat trained. I didn’t have a single niggle during training and expected the race weekend to be the same.

I noticed problems as early as my shake out run on Friday morning. My calves were unusually tight. Standing in line at the packet pick up a short while later, my calves were cramping. Cramping after a three-mile run?! What the heck?!

The only thing I could think of is that I sat far too long the day before, during the 13-hour drive from Colorado to Arizona, with only short stops for gas and bathroom breaks. I should have known better, I thought.

On race day, my problems picked up again after just a few miles as my calves slowly tightened. My left foot went numb and tingly. I’ve run with tight calves before and knew that they’d probably loosen up. While the numbness disappeared the calves never relaxed. Gradually, mile after mile, the problem worsened. At Mile 70 I was reduced to a walk. At Mile 81, I made the decision to sit down thinking that giving them a break would help.

I couldn’t get back up.

I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of my situation. I’d come 81 miles and for the most part I felt fine. I had hydrated and fueled well, felt comfortable in the heat and sun, and even felt comfortable after nightfall in the cold and dark. The only thing wrong was that my calves were tight, painful knots of searing hate. Straightening my legs required maximum effort and four-letter words.

At the CTS Race Support tent, my pacer and other CTS Coaches tried to help. I was locked in place and the clock was ticking, I set a limit of 3am to go or not go. As I sat, another CTS Coach came through – Patrick McGlade, who is a physical therapist and firefighter. He massaged the legs lightly and didn’t find evidence of any severe damage. My calves were swollen and tight, for sure, but there was nothing obvious that would prevent me from moving.

If I could get up and get moving again, I could probably get to the finish within the time limit. Patrick was pacing a CTS Athlete and encouraged me to tag along. My pacer, with the best of intentions, had gone to move the car closer thinking I was done. In fact, arrangements were being made to transport me to the car.

Patrick levered me up, had me slowly weight both legs and shift back and forth. Pain shot from my Achilles through my hamstrings. My legs were taught messes.  I could barely stand… but I was. Then Patrick had me move forward. I almost fell over, but… I was moving forward.

And it clicked.

I had a choice to make, right then and there: Either DNF and walk off the course or get moving and try to make the time cut. Because I was on my feet, it didn’t take much coercing. I grabbed my water bottle, two gels and headed out into the dark desert night. Patrick and his athlete were soon far ahead, but not before I signaled to Patrick that, “I’ve got this.” After that, there was no looking back. I was alone in the dark shuffling and hiking forward. Not at all how I had envisioned the final 20 miles would go – but what I could do.

Step-by-step. Gel after gel, sipping water bottles, stopping briefly at aid stations. Moving forward. Doing what mattered. The sun rose. Night became day. The temperature increased into the 90s. I didn’t slow down anymore; I just moved at a consistent pace and barely stopped. I stayed upright because I knew I’d never get up again if I sat. I finished the race, earning a belt buckle in 28 hours and 15 minutes, well ahead of the 20-hour cut-off.

Now, here’s are mental performance lessons from my story.

How getting “hooked” to an idea can stop you in your tracks

Headed off into the night. Photo Courtesy of Shad Mika

As the pain and fatigue gradually increased through the first 70 miles of Javelina Jundred, I got “hooked” on negative thoughts related to being tired, immobile, and in pain. When I sat down, I was hooked on the thought I couldn’t move. The mind’s job is to protect us, and mine was convinced I could go no further. When Patrick helped me get up and said, “it likely won’t get worse” I was able to unhook or defuse from the “I can’t” thought.

Open Yourself to New Inputs and New Realities

Why was Patrick’s guidance more effective or powerful than my own thoughts or even the guidance of other people in the aid station? I don’t have a definitive answer, but I think it may have been because I trusted his professional expertise and he happened to reach me at a moment when I was open to new information. Had he arrived earlier, when I was even more hooked on the idea that my day was finished, perhaps I wouldn’t have received his guidance the same way. The lesson here is to recognize when you’re closed off or hooked on negative thoughts and actively try to open yourself to new ideas.

I also had to open up to the reality that discomfort was going to be my current reality. Moving was going to hurt and the coming miles would be frustratingly slow. Once I opened up and accepted this, the decision to continue became easy. From that point forward, the thought of sitting down or stopping never occurred to me.

Focus on What Matters

Once I unhooked from the thoughts holding me in that chair, my focus shifted to only what mattered: the action of moving forward, the action of taking a gel or food every half hour and sipping on water, and the action of staying cool when in warmed up. That was it. Walk, eat, drink, stay cool. That’s what mattered. Negative thoughts arrived at times, things like “I can’t” or “this hurts”, but my focus enabled me to redirect thoughts back to my short list of what mattered.

Don’t Try To Go It Alone, Connecting Helps

Sometimes a mixture of simple reassurance and tough love can do wonders. “You’re fine. Let’s get going.”  In that simple comment I found reassurance I was okay and had the ability to continue. Connecting with good people matters because at your moment of greatest need you’ll only take the advice from people you trust and respect. A stranger telling me “You’re looking good!” wasn’t going to do it. Trust is one of the most powerful pieces of putting together a well thought out team for a race. Who is reassuring? Who can give you some tough love when it’s really needed, and who will you accept tough love from?

Heading to the finish. Photo Courtesy of Shad Mika

Name Your Internal Stories

The mistake I made was sitting down. Sitting down, while comfortable, opened the door to a scenario that worsened. Because I sat down, I had time to hook even further into my “I can’t” story. It’s important to notice when you’re getting hooked on those thoughts (e.g., “this hurts”, “I can’t move my legs like I want too”, etc.) Notice and name the story you’re telling yourself: “Here’s comes my ‘I’m injured story’.” “This is my ‘I can’t do this story’.”

Yes, sometimes there’s an injury that should and will stop you. But if you can rule the bad stuff out and take care of your body, you can bring your stories front and center. Then reset. Give your own mind and body the reassurance that it’s safe. Then move forward and do what matters.