
The actual run? 30 minutes. Maybe 32 if I’m feeling wild. But the whole event? Easily 75. Every… damn… time.
Because running isn’t just running. It’s:
Then you run. And that’s the easy part.
I used to beat myself up for this. Why can’t I just run and be done with it?
But I’m finally admitting it: transitions cost me more than effort does. It’s not the run. It’s more of the opaque time before and after. That weird floaty space where your brain’s like, “What mode are we in now?” Especially post-run, when my body is buzzed, my brain is empty, and I still somehow have to “be productive.” As Abed from the hit TV show, Community says…

Science has a name for this: task-switching cost. It’s why switching from run mode to, think about what to do mode, to “write emails” mode feels hard. Add in ADHD, and it’s like slower than trying to open a spreadsheet with a Game Boy from 1992.
The “lost” 45 minutes after a run weren’t going to be used for deep work or organizing my taxes. They were going to vanish into Instagram, snack loops, or vaguely re-reading the same to-do list I wrote yesterday.
But here’s something I can finally admit: Running didn’t rob time from me — It rescued me from wasting time in my sleep clothes pretending to be busy.
These aren’t hacks, but instead they make me more consistent, not just with running but with re-entering the rest of my life after.
Running Nutrition Isn’t Hard. It’s Misunderstood. (Nutrition Masterclass)
Your Foam Roller Isn’t Working. Use It Anyway.
If You Can’t Do This Speed Workout, You’re Not as Fit as You Think
The Dangerous Level of Strava Runners No One Talks About
You’re Doing 10K Training Wrong, And It’s Keeping You Stuck