When people find out I’m an ultra-endurance athlete, they assume I run every single day for hours on end. They picture endless miles, blistered feet, and early mornings where all I do is hit the trails. But the truth is, that approach nearly broke me. I don’t train like most runners anymore—and that’s exactly why I’ve been able to win ultra marathons, avoid injury, and actually enjoy running again.

My training philosophy was born out of trial, error, (some amazing coaches), and a few painful lessons. Like most athletes, I used to believe that more was always better: more miles, more time on my feet, more fatigue meant more progress. But when I stripped away the noise and listened to my body, I discovered something entirely different. In this post (and in the YouTube video linked here and podcast episode linked here) I share how quality, not quantity, is the secret to lasting strength, resilience, and performance.

How my running journey began

My story as a runner didn’t start with natural talent or even enjoyment. When I was four years old, doctors told me I’d never be a runner—or a soccer player—because of my asthma. For most of my life, I believed them. I loved sports, but running always felt like the enemy.

Then, around 2020, something changed. I got it in my head that maybe I could run a marathon. At the time, I was deep into high-intensity interval training classes, yoga, and strength workouts. I didn’t even like running, but I started doing one long run a week with a friend. He ran throughout the week; I didn’t. Yet when we met for our long run, I could hang with him for ten miles without issue. That’s when I realized something interesting: all that HIIT, lifting, and yoga had prepared my body for endurance in ways I hadn’t expected.

So I stuck with it. Even without logging traditional mileage, my cardiovascular system and overall fitness improved. Then 2020 hit, races were canceled, and that first marathon never happened. But a year later, I ran my own self-made marathon. That’s where everything shifted.

The impact of overtraining

Fast forward to 2024: I ran my first 100K ultra marathon and actually won it. The mix of strength training, HIIT, yoga, and strategic running had paid off. So naturally, I thought, “If I want to get even better, I should run more.”

That logic led me straight into burnout.

By 2025, I had cut out everything except running. No more HIIT, no lifting, no yoga—just miles. I was running 80 to 100 miles a week, thinking that more volume meant more success. Instead, my performance plummeted. I went from finishing strong in races to quitting mid-race out of exhaustion. I remember one event where, after 3 and a half hours of running, I told myself, “I’m done. I can’t stay out here another eight hours.”

My body was screaming for balance. I lost my upper body strength, my plantar fasciitis flared up, my knees ached, and my back was constantly tight. Even my glutes and core started to fail me. What surprised me most was how all of these issues were interconnected—weak glutes led to back pain, poor posture led to tight quads, and everything added up to a body that wasn’t built to sustain itself.

Running more hadn’t made me stronger. It had made me weaker.

The problem with just running

Running is incredible for cardiovascular health, endurance, and mental clarity. Humans are literally designed to run—we evolved as endurance hunters who could chase down prey for miles. But there’s a limit. If you strip running away from strength, flexibility, and intensity, you end up out of balance.

When all I did was run, my body adapted to a single motion: forward movement. My stabilizers, core, and shoulders got weaker. My feet and knees started carrying the load. My heart stayed strong in zone two, but it wasn’t trained to handle spikes of intensity—the kind that happen in real races when you climb steep hills, surge to pass someone, or sprint toward the finish line.

Even my mind began to dull. Long, easy runs are great for meditation, but without high-intensity effort, I wasn’t training my brain to handle discomfort. There’s a kind of mental toughness that comes from burpees, heavy lifts, and fast sprints—the kind that teaches you to stay calm when your body wants to quit. Running alone couldn’t give me that anymore.

How I rebuilt my training

After months of pain and fatigue, I decided to return to what had always worked: variety. I built a new system around three elements that complement running instead of competing with it—HIIT, lifting, and yoga.

I still run every day, but instead of chasing mileage, I chase quality. Most days I’ll run two to five miles, keeping my weekly total between 20 and 35 miles. When I ramp up for a race, I’ll increase mileage carefully, always keeping my body balanced with other forms of training.

One to two days a week, I do HIIT sessions to push my heart rate into higher zones and train my body to stay composed during intensity. Another two or three days, I lift weights for 20 to 30 minutes, focusing on functional strength—glutes, hamstrings, core, and shoulders. This not only improves my running economy but also prevents injuries.

Finally, I incorporate yoga and stretching every single day, even if it’s just for five minutes. As a yoga teacher, I’ve seen how powerful mindful movement can be for runners. It resets the nervous system, enhances mobility, and helps me reconnect with my breath—a crucial skill for any athlete, especially one with asthma.

Practical tips for runners and marathoners

If you’re training for a marathon or ultra and want to build a stronger, more sustainable body, here’s what I recommend:

Reduce your total weekly mileage by 10 to 20 percent, but keep your long run intact. Use the time you free up to integrate other forms of training. Add one HIIT session, one lifting session, and at least 30 minutes of yoga each week. Even small amounts of cross-training make a big difference.

HIIT strengthens your heart and mental resilience. Lifting strengthens your joints and muscles. Yoga keeps your body flexible and your mind calm. Together, they create a runner who’s not just faster—but unbreakable.

The power of balance

What I’ve learned is that the best runners aren’t the ones who run the most—they’re the ones who train the smartest. When I balanced my training, I not only became faster but also rediscovered the joy of movement. Running became play again, not punishment.

My asthma no longer feels like a limitation. My body feels resilient, my energy stays high, and my recovery times have shortened dramatically. I’m not chasing more miles anymore. I’m chasing mastery—of my breath, my strength, and my mindset.

That’s why I don’t train like most runners. Because for me, being an athlete with asthma means proving that endurance isn’t about doing more. It’s about doing better.