Excuse Factories
The Lies We Tell Ourselves to Stay Comfortable
One of my favorite quotes is this:
One person’s excuse, is another person’s reason.
I’m not sure where I first heard it, but it has stuck with me. The idea is simple: any excuse you can come up with for not doing something can be used by someone else as the very reason to do that same thing.
For example, one person might see a marathon runner and think, “I can’t run like that—my knees are bad.”
Another person, dealing with the same bad knees, might think, “I should start running to strengthen my legs and better support my knees.”
Similarly, one person might say, “I can’t diet—I don’t have time to cook my own food.”
Another might say, “If I don’t start dieting and cooking my own food, I’m going to shave 20 years off my life.”
One more:
“I don’t lift weights. I don’t want to be sore.”
Versus:
“I need to lift weights. I don’t want to be sore when I’m older and can’t get around.”
I understand this mindset doesn’t apply to every situation. But it does apply to a lot of the things we tend to put off—the things we quietly decide are “not for us.”
Uncomfortable Conversations
Something I’ve become hyper-aware of since I started running longer distances and participating in races is how people who don’t run, don’t exercise, or don’t diet cope with excuses to get themselves “off the hook.”
I think it started around the time I began running more than five miles at a time.
If you tell people you’re walking or running one to five miles, they’ll smile and encourage you. If you tell them you’re training for a local 5K, they’ll wish you luck and applaud the effort.
But when you start logging 100–200 mile months, year after year, something changes.
When you casually mention that you ran eleven miles over the weekend, the reaction shifts—from encouragement to concern.
You start hearing questions like, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll hurt yourself?”
Or the classic, “I could never run that far…”—followed immediately by a list of reasons explaining why their entirely unique situation makes running impossible.
It’s almost as if, when something still feels possible, people can vicariously attach themselves to it. “I could’ve done that too.”
But once you cross into what they perceive as impossible or ludicrous, you become an indictment.
If you can run eleven miles, and they know they can’t walk one, then maybe—uncomfortably—something is wrong.
Nobody likes accountability. And when someone who looks a lot like us starts doing “crazy” things, our minds rush to protect us.
Our Minds Are Excuse Factories
As my runs have grown longer and I’ve completed more races (four so far, with six more scheduled in 2026), I’ve encountered no shortage of excuses.
What surprises me is how quickly they surface—often completely unprovoked.
One person tells me they want to run but have “bad knees.” The conclusion is clear: their situation is unique, and therefore running is off the table.
Another had shin splints once, years ago, and was sidelined for weeks. Since then, they simply can’t walk or run long distances.
Let me tell you about a guy I knew six years ago.
He weighed close to 240 pounds. He worked overnight shifts—sixty hours a week. He was too busy to eat healthy. Too tired to exercise.
One day, his doctor prescribed blood pressure medication and told him he’d likely be on it for the rest of his life. Blood sugar medication, they warned, would probably be next.
Every morning after a long night of work, he strapped on a CPAP mask so he could breathe while he slept.
One cold December day, he decided he’d had enough.
He committed to walking one mile a day.
No matter the weather.
No matter the conditions.
No matter the excuses.
He walked.
Day after day after day.
Some days it was icy and slick.
He walked.
Some days it was a blizzard—freezing cold, sidewalks unplowed.
He walked.
One day he took a detour down a slanted road, slipped a few times, and twisted his knee. The next day he could barely walk.
But still—
He walked.
Walking turned into jogging.
One mile became three.
Three became five.
Jogging became running.
Five became ten.
Some days his knees ached.
Some days it poured.
Some days it was brutally cold.
Some days it was unbearably hot.
Still, he walked.
Turn Your Excuses into Reasons
That guy was me.
I walked non-stop for over a year. I eventually lost between 50 and 60 pounds before injuring my hip on what was, at the time, my longest run—eleven miles.
I’ll admit it: that injury became my excuse for a few years.
I told myself I was damaging my hips, knees, and joints, so I stopped. Time passed. Some of the weight came back.
Eventually, I decided to return—not by ignoring the problem, but by reframing it.
Instead of using my hip as an excuse, I turned it into a reason. I added strength training. I cleaned up my diet. I ran smarter.
Now I’m signed up for three marathons, three half marathons, and a 10K in 2026.
I want to challenge you to think differently.
Change your excuses into reasons.
Find purpose in the very things that create doubt.
Because when your excuses become your reasons, you start becoming—
Uncredible.
Music for voice over by Jeremusic70 on Pixabay.