What a 100-Miler Taught Me About Decision-Making

A 100-mile race is often described as a test of endurance, but the deeper test is judgement. Fitness gets you to the start line and carries you through the early kilometres. After that, every choice begins to matter: how quickly to leave an aid station, when to eat, whether to change shoes, and how seriously to treat a small problem.

My race took place over a long course of darkness, heat, dust and fatigue. The distance was difficult, yet the hardest moments were rarely dramatic. They were ordinary decisions made with incomplete information while my thinking became slower and less reliable. A loose shoe, a missed calorie target or an optimistic pace could create consequences several hours later.

That experience changed how I think about decision-making in endurance sport. A good choice was not always the boldest one, and a bad choice was not necessarily irrational at the time. Most decisions made sense when viewed through the narrow window of discomfort, weather and limited energy.

The lessons have carried into training, work and everyday planning. They apply to anyone managing a long project, an uncertain season or a goal that cannot be completed through motivation alone.

Protect The Quality Of Your Thinking

The first decision of an ultra is deciding how much mental capacity to spend. At the beginning, the course feels manageable and every problem appears solvable. That can tempt a runner to make unnecessary changes, chase competitors or spend too long analysing minor discomfort.

I learned to treat attention as a limited resource. If I could solve a problem with a simple rule, I should not turn it into a debate. Eat at the planned interval. Drink according to conditions. Walk the steep section. Check the feet at the next aid station. Clear decisions preserve concentration for the moments that genuinely require judgement.

This is useful in Australian trail races, where a course can move from cool bushland to exposed fire trails within the same event. A sunny morning around the Dandenong Ranges or the Blue Mountains can become hot and draining by midday. The environment changes faster than confidence does, so decision-making needs to be deliberate before fatigue takes over.

Separate Discomfort From Danger

A 100-mile race contains pain that is expected and pain that requires action. Muscular fatigue, low-level nausea and a temporary loss of enthusiasm may be part of the experience. Sharp pain, confusion, loss of coordination or an inability to keep fluids down belong in a different category.

During the race, I had to ask whether a problem was uncomfortable, inconvenient or dangerous. Those words sound similar when the brain is tired, but they demand different responses. Inconvenience might mean adjusting a pack. Discomfort might mean slowing down and eating. Danger might mean stopping, seeking medical help or accepting a change to the plan.

This distinction matters in Australia because heat illness is a serious risk at exposed events, particularly in inland areas and during warmer months. Race organisers may have medical checkpoints and safety procedures, but competitors still need to recognise warning signs early. The decision to stop is not a failure of commitment; it can be the most responsible choice available.

Use Checkpoints, Not Predictions

Before the start, I had a finish-time plan. It included target splits, expected aid-station arrivals and a rough estimate of how the final third might feel. Those numbers were useful as a framework, but they became dangerous when treated as promises.

A better approach was to make decisions at checkpoints. Was I eating consistently? Were my legs moving efficiently? Was the weather changing? Had the effort become too hard for the stage of the race? These questions were more valuable than asking whether I was still exactly on schedule.

A checkpoint reduces the emotional weight of the whole distance. Rather than deciding whether I could complete 100 miles, I decided what would give me the best chance of reaching the next station in good condition. This is the same logic behind breaking a large professional project into deliverable stages. The next sound decision is usually more useful than a confident prediction about the finish.

Build Rules For Low-Energy Moments

Fatigue creates a dangerous form of improvisation. When energy is low, a runner can become convinced that a radical change will fix everything: a sudden caffeine dose, a complete clothing change or a much faster pace. Sometimes a change is necessary, but tiredness makes novelty look more attractive than consistency.

I prepared a few simple rules before the race. I would not increase effort to recover lost time. I would take calories before feeling desperate. I would inspect a hot spot before it became a blister. I would ask for help if my judgement became noticeably poor. These rules reduced the number of decisions I had to invent during the hardest hours.

The same principle works in training around cities such as Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. A busy workday, a disrupted commute or a poor night of sleep can make a planned session feel like a test of character. A pre-decided adjustment—shorten the run, move it to the next morning or substitute easy cycling—prevents one tired decision from damaging the whole training week.

Change The Plan Without Changing The Goal

One of the most important choices in the race was accepting that the original plan had expired. Heat, terrain and fatigue had changed the conditions. Continuing to follow the morning schedule would have been a form of stubbornness, not discipline.

I changed my pace, spent longer at selected aid stations and accepted more walking. The goal remained the same, but the route to it changed. This distinction helped me avoid two common mistakes: abandoning the objective too early or protecting the original plan after it had stopped being useful.

Flexibility also has a practical place in the Australian endurance market. Entry fees, travel, accommodation and specialist equipment can make races expensive, while many runners balance preparation with full-time work and family commitments. Training plans need to account for local realities such as long drives to trailheads, limited access to public transport and event calendars that fill quickly. A plan that cannot absorb disruption is poorly designed, regardless of how impressive it looks.

Know When Commitment Becomes Stubbornness

The final lesson was the hardest. Endurance culture often celebrates persistence, and persistence is valuable. Yet continuing simply because stopping feels embarrassing is not the same as making a strong decision. A 100-miler can expose the difference between commitment to a meaningful goal and attachment to a particular outcome.

At one point, I had to consider whether I was still moving towards a worthwhile finish or merely resisting the idea of stopping. That question was uncomfortable because it challenged the identity I had brought to the start line. The answer needed to come from evidence: symptoms, pace, nutrition, weather and the quality of my decisions.

There are also formal responsibilities around organised events. In Australia, race rules, land access requirements, safety directions and medical instructions are not optional details. Events may cross national parks, state forests or private land, with conditions governed by permits and local regulations. Respecting a withdrawal instruction or course closure is part of being a responsible participant, even when personal ambition is urging the opposite.

The race taught me that good judgement is rarely dramatic. It is usually a sequence of small choices that keep the future available: eating before hunger becomes urgent, slowing before coordination deteriorates, fixing equipment before it causes injury and accepting new information without taking it personally.

I finished with a different view of toughness. Toughness was not ignoring every warning or forcing the same plan through changing conditions. It was staying calm enough to notice what was happening, honest enough to update the plan and disciplined enough to protect the decisions that mattered most. In a long race and in a long project, the result is shaped by what you choose when the original certainty has disappeared.