As a coach, the start of a new season feels like standing on the edge of infinite possibilities. My mind drifts into a familiar daydream where I diligently craft the perfect training plan. Races are circled in bold. Key workouts plotted exactly 10 days before. I envision a season that builds smoothly into a championship crescendo and then tapers like clockwork.
I picture the crisp, sunny mornings—65 degrees, no wind. Athletes pounding the track in a synchronized harmony. Each step is fluid; a testament to the meticulously choreographed season we’ve set in motion.
But this vision is a lie.
In my fantasy, nobody gets sick. No one pulls out mid-workout with a sore shin. There are no family emergencies, no surprise heat waves. Everything unfolds exactly as planned.
And that’s precisely the problem. The plan never works. Reality has a way of triumphing over the most elegant training programs.
Adaptability over Certainty
It is human nature that when the sea is calm, we forget to think about storms. But storms lie in all of our futures. Chaos rarely knocks politely. It barges in unannounced.
In the same study I referenced last week—the one that exposed how few coaches feel confident predicting athlete improvements—another telling statistic stood out: nearly half (46%) of coaches reported that they “always” or “often” adjust their plans based on ongoing athlete feedback.
That’s not a flaw. It’s a feature of effective coaching.
Every past season is the sum of course corrections. Every future season will rely more on real-time responsiveness than rigid plans.
And yet, we keep trying to forecast the future as a predictable entity. We build plans that assume smooth progression, then treat deviations as failure, rather than reality. Every program is threatened by risks that lie dormant, and it’s hard to engineer those risks out of the plan.
Because risk, by definition, is what you don’t see coming. If you could map it, you could avoid it. But you can’t predict the things that are going to surprise you.
Ray Daylio puts it bluntly:
“Those who live by the crystal ball will die eating shattered glass.”
So stop trying to build the perfect plan. Build the flexible one. The responsive one. The one that can bend before it breaks.
Below are four strategies I rely on to grapple with the uncertainty of what the future holds.
Don’t Negotiate with Reality
Plans may feel reassuring, but the ever-changing landscape of reality will always outstrip them.
We all carry two versions of reality: the one we planned and the one we’re in. Every so often, they line up. But more often, they don’t. Progress doesn’t come from doubling down on what should be happening. It comes from adapting to what is happening.
You can’t negotiate with reality. You can only face it. If you don’t deal with reality, then it will deal with you.
You must be able to confront the most brutal facts about your current situation without losing faith that you’ll ultimately succeed.
So when the plan and reality diverge, remember the old military saying:
“If the map and terrain disagree, follow the terrain.”
That’s the game: not to control what happens, but to respond well when it doesn’t go according to plan.
Focus On the Next Logical Step
A good coach can sometimes spot long-term patterns or forecast trouble. But most of the time, navigating a season is like driving through dense fog with your high beams on—you can only see a few feet ahead.
You don’t need to map out every turn before you begin. You don’t need to be clairvoyant. Instead, I like a concept called the ABZ framework. What matters is knowing where you are now (A), where you want to go (Z), and the next step that moves you closer (B). The rest, steps C through Y, will reveal themselves as you progress.
Thomas Carlyle captured this idea well: “The task of man is not to see what lies dimly in the distance, but to do what lies clearly at hand.”
For training, that means keeping your plans short and responsive. I’ve found it works best to think about training in one or two-week blocks. Sure, certain long-term anchor points on the calendar are non-negotiable, but the week-to-week structure is better determined in real time, not months in advance.
Leave Margin for Error
When engineers design bridges, they don’t build them to carry only the expected load. They include a safety margin to account for unforeseen stresses, such as heavy traffic, adverse weather conditions, or structural decay.
Similarly, if a training plan is designed to handle only expected challenges, it will fail as soon as an unexpected challenge arises. A more innovative approach is to leave space (rest days, cross-training slots, and down weeks) that an athlete can utilize when the unexpected occurs.
The more rigid your plan, the more fragile your season will be. In running, the list of what could happen is longer than the things you can prepare for. What matters isn’t predicting every scenario but creating room to absorb disruption. The less you cling to a perfect forecast, the more resilient your season becomes.
The real test of a coach or an athlete is not avoiding every possible setback but responding to the unexpected with adaptability and resilience.
Become a Better Reactor
Planning is a worthwhile intellectual exercise, but the most essential part of any plan is accepting that it won’t unfold exactly as written.
A season is no different. Mike Kryzyzewski (Coach K), arguably one of the most accomplished coaches in modern sport, captured the same idea: “I’m not a world-class predictor, I’m a world-class reactor.”
My takeaway message is this: instead of trying to predict the future, focus on responding to what reality presents. Iterate on the original plan. Build a margin for error. And remember: chaos will arrive at some point. Your job is to be ready for it.
If this helped you swap perfect plans for winning ones, share The Run Down with a coach or teammate who needs a sturdier season. One forward tap could change their whole fall.