When Things Go Wrong: And Why Control Is a Lie We Tell Ourselves On and Off the Trail

When Life Doesn’t Follow the Plan

Most of us don’t lose our footing because of one big dramatic moment.

It’s usually smaller than that. Quieter. A slow unraveling of expectations. A season where things just don’t line up the way you thought they would, no matter how much effort you put in.

You can do everything you’re “supposed” to do and still find yourself standing in the middle of something you didn’t plan for. A body that won’t cooperate. A job that suddenly feels unstable. A relationship that changes shape. A version of yourself that doesn’t respond the way she used to.

That’s the part no one really warns you about. Not the hard thing itself, but how disorienting it is when effort and outcome stop matching.

Why We Cling to Control So Hard

When things go wrong, our instinct is to look backward.

We replay conversations. Decisions. Choices. We try to find the exact moment where, if we had just done something differently, this wouldn’t be happening. Because if we can find the mistake, then maybe we can make sure it never happens again.

That urge makes sense. Control feels safer than uncertainty. Blame feels better than randomness. Even blaming ourselves can feel comforting in a messed-up way because at least it gives us something to hold onto.

But most of the time, there isn’t one clean mistake. There’s just life being unpredictable and a little bit rude.

What Control Actually Looks Like (Spoiler: It’s Not Prevention)

Here’s the thing that took me a long time to understand.

Control isn’t about preventing hard shit from happening.

It’s about how you respond once it does.

You don’t get to control the diagnosis, the timing, the injury, the loss, the job change, or the season you’re in. What you do get to control is how much grace you give yourself when you have to adjust.

Do you completely shut down because things didn’t go according to plan?

Do you decide this one moment defines you?

Or do you find a way to keep going that actually fits who you are right now, not who you were six months ago?

That’s where real control lives. Not in avoiding discomfort, but in how you adapt when it shows up.

Where Trail Running Comes In (As Practice, Not the Point)

Trail running didn’t teach me this lesson first. Life did.

Trail running is just one place where it gets practiced over and over again.

On the trail, preparation doesn’t guarantee a smooth day. It just gives you options when things change. Extra water. A headlamp. The ability to turn around without turning it into a personal failure. The understanding that adjusting the plan isn’t quitting, it’s responding to reality.

Life works the same way.

You don’t prepare so nothing ever goes wrong. You prepare so when it does, you’re not completely untethered and beating yourself up for not being invincible.

The Aftermath Is the Hardest Part

The part people don’t talk about enough is what happens after something goes wrong.

The fear that lingers. The second-guessing. The way your confidence doesn’t disappear all at once but slowly erodes in small decisions. You hesitate where you didn’t used to. You question things that once felt obvious.

That doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means your nervous system remembers.

Moving forward isn’t about pretending you’re fine. It’s about letting fear exist without letting it drive every choice you make.

Moving Forward Without Proving Anything

Sometimes moving forward looks bold and exciting.

And sometimes it looks boring as hell.

It looks like smaller steps. Familiar ground. Asking for help. Choosing consistency over intensity. Choosing support over isolation. Choosing patience instead of trying to prove you’re “back” before you’re ready.

None of that is failure.

That’s adaptation. That’s maturity. That’s staying in your life instead of checking out because things didn’t go according to plan.

You’re Still Allowed to Want Joy

This part matters, so I’m going to say it clearly.

You’re still allowed to want joy even after you’ve been scared. Even after something didn’t go the way you hoped. Even after you learned the hard way that control is never guaranteed.

Joy doesn’t require certainty.It requires permission.

Permission to keep showing up. Permission to take up space again. Permission to live a life that feels expansive instead of one ruled by fear and “what ifs.”

Things will go wrong. That’s not the part you control.

What you do next is.

And that’s enough.

Good effort. Positive attitude.💛🧡⛰️