A Plan Is Not A Prison (Or At Least It Shouldn’t Be!)
When Plans Meet Reality
“Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.” – Mike Tyson.
It’s blunt, but he’s not wrong. Plans look perfect when they’re written down. They’re clean, logical, and bulletproof… until reality shows up swinging.
For me, that “punch in the mouth” came in October 2023, about 2.5 km into a 30 km mountain trail race I’d trained for months to run fast and strong. I was FLYING, feeling strong and confident…and then I rolled my left ankle badly.
Me and that mountain already had history — it was where I broke my other ankle, 7 km into my first ever trail race back in 2015, so it wouldn’t have been surprising for me to freak out. Instead, assessing it as “just” a bad sprain (it turned out later I’d actually fractured it), I had to adapt immediately. My carefully set pace and finish-time goals evaporated, replaced with one single objective: survive and chase cutoffs. Rather than panic and quit, I threw my plan out the window and worked with what I had.
I crossed the finish line with just 30 minutes to spare before disqualification. I finished DEAD FUCKING LAST among the men (four women also finished under the cutoff behind me) — but I finished. And that was the win that day.
In fitness, nutrition, and life, we often treat plans like sacred scripts — something to be followed to the letter, or not at all. But here’s the truth: no plan survives first contact unchanged. Whether it’s a missed workout because your kid is sick, or a meal plan blown off course by a last-minute work dinner, the ability to adapt is more valuable than the ability to follow a plan perfectly.
Why We Cling to Perfect Plans
Rigidity is tempting because it feels safe. A perfect plan seems like a guarantee:
“If I do X, I’ll get Y.”
The trouble is, life doesn’t work like that.
I’ve seen clients completely derail themselves over the smallest disruption. Some freak out about having to go a bit easier at one planned workout because they’re sore, tired, or have had a stressful day at work, as if adjusting the intensity is a disaster. Others panic when they’re invited out for lunch at work or dinner by a friend because they’re terrified the menu won’t have anything that fits their “perfect” meal plan.
I’ve had clients avoid social gatherings altogether, either because it might interfere with their workout schedule or because they fear they won’t be able to control themselves around tempting foods.
One of the more extreme examples? A client, nearly in tears, told me she had “broken down” and eaten some apple. Not even a whole apple — some. Why? Because it wasn’t on the “perfect” plan her previous coach had given her. Seriously… WTAF?
We cling to strict plans for reasons that make sense on the surface:
Control: Predictability feels comforting.
Black-and-white thinking: If I can’t follow it perfectly, I’ve failed.
Fear of improvisation: Changing the plan feels like breaking the rules.
But here’s the problem: this mindset makes you fragile. The moment something disrupts the plan, you either double down and burn out, or throw the whole thing away.
This is exactly what I wrote about in Stop Trying to Be ‘Good’: how the pressure to stick to some imagined “perfect” behaviour creates more problems than it solves, and why learning to bend without breaking is the real skill worth building.
Plans as Frameworks, Not Scripts
A good plan is like a good GPS. It points you toward your destination, but it can reroute instantly when the road is blocked. Rigid scripts? They’re like old-school, printed-off directions, and if you miss a turn or hit a detour, you’re stuck.
In fitness and nutrition, the best plans give you guardrails, not handcuffs. I often tell clients, “Protein and veg at every meal” is a guardrail. It gives you the freedom to choose the specific foods that fit your preferences, your schedule, and your circumstances. Compare that to “Chicken breast and broccoli at 12:00 sharp” — that’s a handcuff. It locks you into one narrow option, and the moment that option isn’t possible, the whole plan collapses.
It’s the same with training. A rigid running plan might tell you to run 5:00 per kilometre, no matter what. But what happens if it’s 30°C and humid, you didn’t sleep well, or the terrain is tougher than expected? You either fail to hit the pace and feel like you’ve failed entirely, or you push beyond what’s wise and dig yourself into a hole. Working within a heart rate zone (or better yet, at a specific Rating of Perceived Exertion (RPE)) lets you adapt to what your body has to give on the day, while still building toward the same goal.
If this idea resonates, you’ll probably enjoy Real Discipline Is Adaptable where I talk about why sustainable success is built on flexibility and consistent action, not rigid perfection.
Lessons From History and Sport
In 1871, Helmuth von Moltke, a Prussian military strategist, wrote:
“No plan of operations extends with any certainty beyond the first encounter with the main enemy forces. Only the layman believes that in the course of a campaign he sees the consistent implementation of an original thought that has been considered in advance in every detail and retained to the end.”
In other words, the moment the real world gets involved, you adapt or you lose.
I learned that lesson early in my trail racing days. About 1 km into a 13–14 km course in blazing sun, my cheap, department store hydration pack’s water bladder burst. My precious water ran down my back and thoroughly soaked my shorts, leaving not a single drop for me to drink. It was a cupless event, meaning there were no disposable cups at aid stations. My only option was to grab a quick cupped handful of water at the one aid station, which I would only pass twice along the route.
It wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t even close. But that race taught me something important. My body didn’t need nearly as much water as I thought to keep moving, and I could still perform under far less-than-ideal conditions. That kind of resilience doesn’t come from sticking rigidly to a plan; it comes from adjusting on the fly and learning in the process.
The same holds true across sports. In boxing, you can train for months, but the fight changes the instant you take a hit. In endurance races, team sports, and even business projects, the conditions on the day (the weather, injury, equipment failure, human unpredictability) always demand improvisation. Success belongs to those who adjust without losing sight of their objective.
Stoic Philosophy and the Art of Adaptation
Marcus Aurelius wrote:
“The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way.”
It’s a simple but powerful shift: obstacles aren’t detours. They’re part of the road.
I saw this play out with a young rugby player I coached who blew out his ACL on the field. Before that injury, he was… let’s call it an exuberant youth. He went full-throttle in training all the time, with plenty of power and energy, but his movement quality and control were all over the place. Forget force absorption, he’d CRASH into each landing on a set of jump lunges. My knees and ankles hurt just watching it. Heavy dumbbell snatches? All raw power, little technical refinement. My back was crying in sympathy. In short, he was an injury waiting to happen… and then it happened.
At his age (he was still in his teens when this happend) this could easily have been a career-ending injury, or at least a major deterrent to his future in the sport. Instead, he was back in the gym as soon as possible, focusing on what he could do: upper body work, training the uninjured leg, and gradually reintroducing movement on the injured side under safe conditions.
More importantly, he adapted his entire approach to training. He shifted from brute force to mastering movement, building grace, fluidity, and technical precision. That change not only allowed him to return to rugby in relatively short order, but also made him a better athlete than before.
As Ryan Holiday reframed it in The Obstacle Is the Way, success often depends on turning problems into progress. In training and nutrition, this might mean that a missed workout isn’t a failure, it’s a prompt to pivot. Maybe that means swapping a heavy gym session for a mobility flow at home, going for a walk instead of running, or doubling down on recovery. The obstacle becomes the path forward.
If you want to dive deeper into how this mindset plays out in real life, check out Consistency Over Chaos, where I break down why consistency matters far more than clinging to a perfect plan.
The Anti-Fragile Plan
Most people think the best you can hope for when something disrupts your plan is to “get through it” and get back on track. That’s resilience, which is valuable, but still rooted in surviving without losing ground.
An anti-fragile plan goes further. It actually benefits from disruption. As Nassim Taleb described it, the anti-fragile doesn’t just endure stress, it grows stronger because of it.
In training and nutrition, this means intentionally building a plan that gets refined and improved every time life throws something at it. A travel schedule that forces you to train in a stripped-down hotel gym might make you more creative with exercise selection — skills you’ll use long after the trip. An unexpected week off heavy lifting due to illness could lead to a breakthrough in mobility or recovery habits that make your overall training more effective.
The key is that you expect change from the start. You don’t write a plan thinking “if nothing goes wrong…” Instead, you design it knowing things will change, and you’ll use those changes to make it better.
I’ve talked about this mindset before in Real Discipline Is Adaptable, and it’s the same principle here: flexibility isn’t just about damage control. It’s a feature of the plan itself.
How to Build Flexibility In From the Start
Rigid plans break because they have no give. Flexible plans bend without breaking, and they keep you moving forward even when conditions aren’t ideal.
One of the biggest shifts I make with clients is moving from prescriptions to principles. Instead of telling someone, “baked chicken breast and steamed green beans for lunch”, I’ll say, “protein and veg at each meal”. The first approach works until life throws a curveball and you can’t make that exact meal. The second approach works anywhere, any time because it gives you room to adapt while still hitting the important targets.
The same goes for training. I emphasise that showing up is the win, not chasing a specific number or metric every time. If a client walks in with a cranky knee, we might swap squats for a hinge pattern. If their shoulders are feeling beat up, push-ups might get traded for band presses. The intent stays the same, but the path adjusts to fit what their body has to give that day.
This process-focused approach means aiming for “better,” not “best” or “perfect.” It removes the guilt of not ticking a specific box, and replaces it with the satisfaction of doing what you can, which, in the long run, is what actually gets you where you want to go.
As the Hindu proverb puts it:
“There are hundreds of paths up the mountain, all leading in the same direction, so it doesn’t matter which path you take. The only one wasting time is the one who runs around and around the mountain, telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.”
The destination matters far more than the exact steps you take to get there.
The Traps of Flexibility Without Structure
Flexibility is powerful, but without structure it quickly turns into chaos. I’ve seen plenty of people hear “be adaptable” and translate it as “do whatever feels good today.” That’s not adaptation, that’s drift.
Without a clear framework, flexibility can become:
An excuse for inconsistency: Skipping workouts or drifting from good nutrition habits because “life happened” — even when it didn’t need to.
Decision fatigue: Constantly having to reinvent the plan instead of working from a solid base.
Loss of direction: Forgetting the why behind your actions, and ending up with random choices that don’t actually move you closer to your goal.
True flexibility works within a framework. You start with a clear destination, defined priorities, and baseline habits. Then, when life throws a curveball, you adapt the how while keeping the why intact.
It’s like a jazz musician improvising. They’re not making it up from nothing. They know the key, the tempo, and the chord progression, so the improvisation still works as part of the song. In fitness and nutrition, your “key and tempo” might be hitting a daily protein target, strength training three times a week, and getting enough sleep. The specifics can shift, but the song still plays.
Practical Ways to Adapt in Real Time
Adaptability isn’t about winging it. It’s about having a toolbox ready so you can make a smart swap on the spot without losing momentum. Here are some of the strategies I use with clients (and in my own training and nutrition) to keep moving forward when life throws a curveball:
Nutrition swaps:
No starchy carb option available? Double up on non-starchy veg and add a portion of healthy fat to help with satiety.
No lean protein source handy? Look for the best available option — maybe it’s tinned tuna from a corner shop, a rotisserie chicken from the supermarket, or even a protein shake from a gas station.
Dining out unexpectedly? Prioritise protein and veg first, then choose the carb/fat additions that fit the occasion without going overboard.
Training swaps:
Gym closed or equipment unavailable? Shift to a bodyweight or resistance band version of the planned movements.
Short on time? Cut the volume (sets/reps) but keep the main movements, focusing on quality over quantity.
Energy tank is low? Switch to a lower-intensity session like mobility work, an easy walk, or light core training instead of grinding through a high-intensity day.
Mindset shifts:
Focus on the intention of the session or meal, not the exact prescription.
Remind yourself: “better” counts, and often stacks up to “best” over time.
View obstacles as opportunities to practise problem-solving.
The point isn’t to be perfect, it’s to keep stacking wins, even if they’re smaller than planned. That consistency is what compounds over weeks and months.
Wrapping It Up
A plan is meant to guide you, not chain you down. The best ones give you a clear direction while allowing you to adapt when life inevitably throws a punch, whether that’s a literal one in the ring, a rolled ankle on the trail, or just a last-minute dinner invitation that wasn’t part of the “perfect” week you had mapped out.
The people who succeed long-term aren’t the ones who follow a plan perfectly. They’re the ones who can adjust without losing sight of where they’re headed. They know that a detour doesn’t mean turning back, and that the “wrong” path can still lead to the top of the mountain if you keep climbing.
So build your plans with room to move. Expect change. Treat obstacles as part of the road, not roadblocks. And when things go sideways, remember:
The ability to adapt is more valuable than the ability to stick to a script.
In the end, a plan is not a prison. It’s a framework for making better decisions, over and over, until you reach the goal.