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Category: stoicism

ANTs in Ultra Running

ANTs in Ultra Running

Published by Patrick Durante on February 7, 2025

Automatic Negative Thoughts, or ANTs, play a significant role in ultra running. These thoughts often invade your mind when a race becomes challenging and things aren’t going as expected. They surface when the going gets tough, and your body amplifies their effects by fostering a negative attitude toward the race. But why does this happen?

The mind is inherently predisposed to think and predict, often anticipating worse conditions due to its negative bias. Once it sets on this track, it perpetuates a negative spiral, consistently fueling the fire. Here are some tips and tricks I use to manage these thoughts, which you can also apply to your next event.

ANTs don’t bother this dude at all.

Our minds tend to follow thought processes to their conclusion, often seeking problems even when there are none if that’s how we’ve trained them to behave. The principle is that our thoughts and actions reflect what we repeatedly do; if negativity dominates your mindset, negative thoughts, regardless of their truth, will invade your mind. We often overlook how much more attention our minds give to negative emotions compared to positive ones. This is similar to the news mantra “if it bleeds, it leads,” driven by our innate focus on survival. The mind aims to identify dangers and draw attention to them, a necessity in our evolutionary past. Like prey animals constantly scanning for predators, we become alert, jumpy, and quick to perceive threats everywhere.

I coached the predator to his first 100 mile success. True story.

In contrast, predators move with calculated precision, focusing solely on necessary actions without entertaining doubt. The idea is that those who proceed more deliberately make fewer mistakes, staying fixated on their targets and preventing doubt from creeping in. This focus is key to defeating ANTs. Just as a lion locks onto its prey, you must concentrate on your targets. But instead of fixating on the distant finish line, focus on eliminating ANTs by keeping your goals within reach. In a previous post, I mentioned adopting the mantra “feet over finish” to maintain my focus on achievable targets, not just the distant objective of the finish line.

The predator as a trail runner. He would be a BEAST!

My immediate targets include managing my calorie intake, pace, and running form. These are my close “prey,” things within my control and focus. ANTs have no room in my mind when it’s preoccupied with something else. They emerge when attention drifts and pain escalates. During a long race, your brain perceives your actions as a threat to its well-being. It defaults to safety and ease, deploying ANTs—fear, doubt, self-deprecation—as its primary weapons. “I suck,” “I’m too slow,” “I’m not good enough”—these are the whispers of a brain desperate to return to Netflix and comfort.

This is the where you must slow down, think strategically, acknowledge negative thoughts, and move past them. Employ the OODA loop—a decision-making model created by US Air Force Colonel John Boyd to aid fighter pilots in making quick decisions in combat.

The OODA Loop:

Observe: Gather information about your situation.

Orient: Align with reality by analyzing your assumptions and biases.

Decide: Make informed decisions based on your observations and analyses.

Act: Implement your decisions.

Why is the OODA Loop Useful?

The OODA loop aids in making swift and precise decisions in uncertain environments, leveraging agility over sheer power.

Your personal OODA loop might be: focus on feet, calories, form, hydration, and posture—stand tall, maintain a quick cadence, breathe, and relax. Run for 20-30 minutes, then reset and repeat: focus on feet, calories, form, hydration. This loop helps you push through the race free from fear and ANTs, maintaining focus until you finish.

Thanks for reading.  This was one of my random thoughts I had after listening to a podcast.  I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  

Thanks for reading!

Ultra Lizard Brain

Ultra Lizard Brain

Published by Patrick Durante on January 12, 2025

I was listening to a podcast about how the lizard brain is still inside us. It developed first, and the larger brain grew from there. The lizard brain can’t speak, and it’s primal. Since it doesn’t communicate with words, it needs basic things and operates on a simple level with less complexity. I started wondering if there’s a better way to live—one that caters more to that lizard brain—in an attempt to make life simpler, be happier, and reduce anxiety or depression. After all, anxiety and depression are often byproducts of a brain that tries to live in the future or ruminate on the past.

So, what does this lizard brain need? Let’s get real basic with it. The lizard needs sunlight, connection with other lizards, natural and simple food, the ability to run from predators, rest, and the chance to do it all again. When you put it like that, it all sounds so simple! The problem is that when this lizard starts interacting with things unnatural to its basic, primal needs, it begins to suffer. The lizard doesn’t care about what car it drives or its social status—it just uses its feet to get from point A to point B. The lizard doesn’t care what its house looks like or what clothes it wears—it’s always butt naked!

Remember, we’re only focusing on basic survival and self-preservation needs here. I’m not trying to add any unnecessary complexity. The lizard just wants to see tomorrow, maybe find a mate, and, if it’s lucky, see some offspring. So, what do I need to give it, day after day, to make sure it keeps moving forward?

As I dug into this idea more, I realized that the lizard brain is always in the moment. It can’t handle an abundance of time—it’s not sitting still long enough to catch the latest episode of its favorite TV show. If it did, it would get eaten.

When I’m running ultras, I feel like I go into lizard brain mode. I’m running from predators, I’m fueling, and I’m just being present in the mile and the moment. I try to force my brain back to simpler times. During a race, there are always unknowns, and the advanced brain doesn’t like that. But the lizard brain thrives in simplicity—it understands clear actions and conditions. The lizard brain wants training it’s seen before, food it’s eaten before, and even shoes for its lizard feet that it’s used before. The lizard brain doesn’t like “new.” It fears the unknown.

To thrive, the lizard brain needs simple, day-to-day living. Run the lizard. Feed the lizard real, alive food. Move the lizard. Get the thinking out of it. The lizard only worries about today—not the past or the future. It takes action on what it can control, not on what Sally the lizard receptionist in accounting thinks about it. Complexity kills—in design, in training, and in making life reproducible.

The lizard brain evolved in the wild, in the forest—not in the city. It needs to get back to nature. Feeling the sun, wind, rain, and dirt connects the lizard runner back to its primal instincts. It thrives in its original environment, where it can roam in wide-open spaces.

The lizard also loves to struggle with its support network of other lizards, training with others who are doing the same thing. The camaraderie of enduring difficult challenges together strengthens bonds and reinforces the lizard’s purpose. The cheering crowds, pacers, and aid stations during a race let the lizard know it’s not alone in this fight for survival.

The basics work for a reason—that’s what I’m saying here. We’ve broken away from simple daily habits that our brains need to function. Where can I remove complexity when it doesn’t need to exist? That’s the core principle of success.

The lizard brain also needs a problem to solve. It thrives on overcoming obstacles and is hardwired to conquer challenges to survive. The lizard brain doesn’t binge-watch Netflix. It gets out and does things. The trail is our survival scenario—a life-or-death struggle, both physically and mentally. This struggle gives the lizard brain a sense of purpose and validation.

The lizard brain wants one task—a single focus. That’s what ultrarunning does: it gives you one task, with the sole purpose of putting one foot in front of the other. The lizard brain can’t multitask, and anyone who says they can is just doing multiple things poorly instead of one thing well.

The lizard brain also pushes through pain. It actually loves pain as a feedback mechanism, using it as a tool to modify behavior. Pain tells the lizard when to slow down, adjust its form, eat more, or take a break. That’s a core survival ability: the ability to endure enough to see another day.

Above all, the lizard brain needs a reason to keep going. It needs a clear goal, like a finish line, where it can be rewarded. The lizard thrives on the satisfaction of being tested, pushed to its limits, and becoming something more than its current self.

So, the lizard brain needs its basic fuel, rest, safety, movement, connection, and purpose. Ultrarunning, in many ways, strips life down to these core elements and satisfies the primal brain’s instincts while aligning them with a modern challenge—with guardrails in place to keep it manageable. We might not like it, but it’s all very simple. I see this when I watch squirrels or other mammals surviving in the wild. This all runs through my mind as I sit watching out my window with my plethora of problems, while they live in the moment, just trying to survive.

I sit on my couch worrying about a future that might never come or a past that doesn’t matter. I need to get back to simpler times. Simple. How do I just make it simple? What would this look like if it were easy? That’s always the question to ask yourself.