DNF does not define you. Another hard-learned lesson at my 3rd DNF
This is not my first DNF but it is my first for a triathlon. I'll be 100% honest and say this was not a race I was taking too seriously. I had signed up to use this event as a training day on my way to Ironman Chattanooga in Sept. But as I took on more personal training clients and classes at work, my own training hours dwindled. I kept up with my swimming and running but my bike rides weren't what they were last year when I was training for Ironman Chatt 70.3.
This particular event was also just a week before Titletown Ultra 15.5, where I was going to attempt my first 100k. I went back and forth on whether I'd even go ahead with Baycare 70.3. But what better way to get an open water swim session in? And a group ride and run with support along the way? So I went ahead with it... here are the events of that day.
I settled into my hotel room (reserved less than 24 hours ago) by 7pm and tried to get some rest before getting up at 4:50am. Everything was packed and ready to go - I wasn't really that nervous. I kept reminding myself that it was a training day -- just happens to include a cutoff time and a chip.
I got to the event around 6am and started unpacking my bag at transition. The atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant. I was used to athletes who wouldn't talk to you and tried to take up as much space as possible. But there was a lot of chatting among us women and I stayed close to Jenny, who was tackling her first 70.3. To show how friendly these women were, as we were about to get in the water, one of the girls I was talking to asked the lady in front of her if she could help her with her wetsuit (zipper was only halfway up). She took time out of her start to help another athlete out. I've never seen this at a tri.
The swim was great though I could've used more buoys out there. I may have been on the swim team years ago and have knowledge of techniques but out on the course, the preschool water instructor in me came out "Remember to scoop! Like you're scooping ice cream with your hands!"
As we were leaving the water, there were 3 of us that laughed about how we were swimming when we could've started walking sooner. I helped one of them out with their zipper as the others also offered to help. (seriously, I love these ladies).
Transition took longer than I expected but I had to use the porta potty and I wanted to make sure I had my anti-chafe cream on. I didn't care about spending the extra min or two. I saw Jenny come back from her swim as I headed out with my bike and we both wished each other good luck on the ride.
Bike: It started out with a hill and my legs were dead already. But I had looked at the elevation map and knew it wasn't going to be like this all day. I found my groove and just enjoyed the ride. I wasn't looking to PR so my goal was to just avoid the SAG wagon. Around mile 14, I noticed the pain coming from my lower right back, down the ITB and then to my foot. Oh boy, it's going to be a long day. I did a lot of cow and cat yoga movements on the bike and tried to change positions as often as I can and by mile 27, it was fine. Manageable, anyway. I managed to drop my chains twice on the ride so I was able to get off and stretch. Blessing in disguise.
After mile 33-34, I noticed how hard the ride had become. I only had about 20 miles left so I dug deep and tried to push through it. As I was getting passed, I noticed that my back tire was completely flat. Of course. A police officer saw me on the side of the road and wanted to make sure I hadn't fallen off. A crew volunteer came and said he'll keep me company until bike support came. He kept apologizing that he couldn't help me with the bike at all. As we were talking, we heard the radio from his truck "When you approach Linden, pass the girl on the bike. She'll have to get a ride." My heart dropped. We saw the SAG wagon come through about 10 min later and as we both looked at it pass by in silence, I said "That should say 'SAD' instead of 'SAG'". Soon enough, the race director came and he said he'll call to see when bike support will be there so I can continue. "You want to finish, right?" "Well, yeah. But we just heard that I was getting picked up," I replied. Then he realized Wheels and Sprocket had left at 10:30am. I had just missed them. That was it. Race over. I got a ride back to transition where I had to carry parts of my bike to my spot as I passed onlookers. One volunteer took pity and came to help me.
I was lost. I wanted to be happy for others continuing on but my heart hurt as I heard others cheering on the athletes coming in from their bike ride. I finally packed my stuff up and carried it all along with my bike (in parts again) to the car. I heard a few "Oh man, that sucks" and almost lost it as I was struggling with the weight of everything I was carrying and saw a girl pass by chuckling and saying to her boyfriend "Holy shit, that would totally suck." Luckily, a man immediately came to my rescue and helped me out. I almost cried as I said he was only the 2nd person to help me carry my broken bike. I had let friends and family know what happened while I was trying to process the fact that I was done for the day.
Once I got home, I got my bike out and worked feverishly to find out what happened (leak in tube) and tried to replace it without the appropriate tools. I wanted to finish out the miles for the bike and run. I also wanted to show my daughter who was watching that feeling sorry for yourself and giving up is not the answer. Being mad, confused and hurt is all ok but throwing in the towel is not. I tried everything but ultimately, I ended up running a 10K later on. As I told the volunteer who waited with me out on the course, it is what it is. I can't change it so I have to move on.
The dreaded DNF. It's horrible, gut-wrenching, and a bit soul-sucking. This was supposed to be your day and for whatever reason, it didn't work out that way. I remember how angry I was the first few times I dnf'd. The first time was due to inexperience and pushing my body way too hard all season. That was more embarrassment than anger. I announced my goal on social media and then I bombed at the race. The second time, I had mastered the art of rest days and tapering. I had followed my training and nutrition. I was going to finish and get my PR. Then my ITB started acting up around mile 19 and it was over by mile 29. I could feel my anger and shame just bubbling at the surface. I did everything right. But I had no control over this and it was hard to accept.
This time, I'm a bit calmer about it though it physically hurts my chest as I work through the events. And here are the things I've come to tell myself as I let my current DNF sink in.
DNFs never get easier but you grow better at handling it. Here are some things I've learned along the way:
You are not a failure. "How could I not have finished?" "I can't believe I couldn't finish." "Everyone's going to think I'm a failure too." Every athlete, at some point, has a major setback. After my first DNF, a wise friend reminded me of the setbacks that one of my heroes Dean Karnazes had gone through. Even the pros go through it. Why would I be exempt?
Some things are out of your control and you can't blame yourself for not being able to finish. Whether it's your equipment breaking- or your own body! Like my preparation for my second 50 miler, I "followed the rules". But you can't control every aspect of the day. I have a few ideas on what went wrong that day but ultimately, my body said "no".
Appreciate where you are and how you got there.
Whether it's a 5k or an ultra-endurance event, you put in the work to be able to toe the start line. You earned the ability to tackle on this race. Not everyone has the ability and/or the courage to do what you're attempting to do. Appreciate the fact that you are there. Do this even before you start. You made it this far. You are freaking amazing for attempting this challenge.
Go through the emotions, learn from it and don't ever give up. It's a setback. Heartbreaking, I know. But take from the experience - what went right? what went wrong? Could it have been prevented and if yes, how? If the answer is "I don't know what else I could've done to prevent this" then the biggest lesson I've learned is to let go. As a control freak, this is the hardest lesson of all. Each race teaches you something and it's usually the difficult ones or the ones you had to DNF that teach you the most on how to approach the next event. This is why I was so adamant about getting back on the bike, literally. My girls need to see this and I need to continue to practice it ~ it's a win-win.
Use the experience and the emotions to fuel your fire.
As for yesterday's events, I'm fired up to fix my bike and get back on the road. I want to get all of these learning lessons out of the way (as much as I can) before race day so I'm prepared. To get off to the right start, I joined a cycling club outside of our town. Even if I can't join in on the weeknight rides, I have a few group rides to join in on and hopefully, stories and lessons from fellow riders.
If you have your own DNF or comeback stories to share, leave a comment or message me!
Dye
This particular event was also just a week before Titletown Ultra 15.5, where I was going to attempt my first 100k. I went back and forth on whether I'd even go ahead with Baycare 70.3. But what better way to get an open water swim session in? And a group ride and run with support along the way? So I went ahead with it... here are the events of that day.
I settled into my hotel room (reserved less than 24 hours ago) by 7pm and tried to get some rest before getting up at 4:50am. Everything was packed and ready to go - I wasn't really that nervous. I kept reminding myself that it was a training day -- just happens to include a cutoff time and a chip.
 |
| Living the dream... |
I got to the event around 6am and started unpacking my bag at transition. The atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant. I was used to athletes who wouldn't talk to you and tried to take up as much space as possible. But there was a lot of chatting among us women and I stayed close to Jenny, who was tackling her first 70.3. To show how friendly these women were, as we were about to get in the water, one of the girls I was talking to asked the lady in front of her if she could help her with her wetsuit (zipper was only halfway up). She took time out of her start to help another athlete out. I've never seen this at a tri.
The swim was great though I could've used more buoys out there. I may have been on the swim team years ago and have knowledge of techniques but out on the course, the preschool water instructor in me came out "Remember to scoop! Like you're scooping ice cream with your hands!"
As we were leaving the water, there were 3 of us that laughed about how we were swimming when we could've started walking sooner. I helped one of them out with their zipper as the others also offered to help. (seriously, I love these ladies).
Transition took longer than I expected but I had to use the porta potty and I wanted to make sure I had my anti-chafe cream on. I didn't care about spending the extra min or two. I saw Jenny come back from her swim as I headed out with my bike and we both wished each other good luck on the ride.
Bike: It started out with a hill and my legs were dead already. But I had looked at the elevation map and knew it wasn't going to be like this all day. I found my groove and just enjoyed the ride. I wasn't looking to PR so my goal was to just avoid the SAG wagon. Around mile 14, I noticed the pain coming from my lower right back, down the ITB and then to my foot. Oh boy, it's going to be a long day. I did a lot of cow and cat yoga movements on the bike and tried to change positions as often as I can and by mile 27, it was fine. Manageable, anyway. I managed to drop my chains twice on the ride so I was able to get off and stretch. Blessing in disguise.
After mile 33-34, I noticed how hard the ride had become. I only had about 20 miles left so I dug deep and tried to push through it. As I was getting passed, I noticed that my back tire was completely flat. Of course. A police officer saw me on the side of the road and wanted to make sure I hadn't fallen off. A crew volunteer came and said he'll keep me company until bike support came. He kept apologizing that he couldn't help me with the bike at all. As we were talking, we heard the radio from his truck "When you approach Linden, pass the girl on the bike. She'll have to get a ride." My heart dropped. We saw the SAG wagon come through about 10 min later and as we both looked at it pass by in silence, I said "That should say 'SAD' instead of 'SAG'". Soon enough, the race director came and he said he'll call to see when bike support will be there so I can continue. "You want to finish, right?" "Well, yeah. But we just heard that I was getting picked up," I replied. Then he realized Wheels and Sprocket had left at 10:30am. I had just missed them. That was it. Race over. I got a ride back to transition where I had to carry parts of my bike to my spot as I passed onlookers. One volunteer took pity and came to help me.
I was lost. I wanted to be happy for others continuing on but my heart hurt as I heard others cheering on the athletes coming in from their bike ride. I finally packed my stuff up and carried it all along with my bike (in parts again) to the car. I heard a few "Oh man, that sucks" and almost lost it as I was struggling with the weight of everything I was carrying and saw a girl pass by chuckling and saying to her boyfriend "Holy shit, that would totally suck." Luckily, a man immediately came to my rescue and helped me out. I almost cried as I said he was only the 2nd person to help me carry my broken bike. I had let friends and family know what happened while I was trying to process the fact that I was done for the day.
Once I got home, I got my bike out and worked feverishly to find out what happened (leak in tube) and tried to replace it without the appropriate tools. I wanted to finish out the miles for the bike and run. I also wanted to show my daughter who was watching that feeling sorry for yourself and giving up is not the answer. Being mad, confused and hurt is all ok but throwing in the towel is not. I tried everything but ultimately, I ended up running a 10K later on. As I told the volunteer who waited with me out on the course, it is what it is. I can't change it so I have to move on.
The dreaded DNF. It's horrible, gut-wrenching, and a bit soul-sucking. This was supposed to be your day and for whatever reason, it didn't work out that way. I remember how angry I was the first few times I dnf'd. The first time was due to inexperience and pushing my body way too hard all season. That was more embarrassment than anger. I announced my goal on social media and then I bombed at the race. The second time, I had mastered the art of rest days and tapering. I had followed my training and nutrition. I was going to finish and get my PR. Then my ITB started acting up around mile 19 and it was over by mile 29. I could feel my anger and shame just bubbling at the surface. I did everything right. But I had no control over this and it was hard to accept.
This time, I'm a bit calmer about it though it physically hurts my chest as I work through the events. And here are the things I've come to tell myself as I let my current DNF sink in.
DNFs never get easier but you grow better at handling it. Here are some things I've learned along the way:
You are not a failure. "How could I not have finished?" "I can't believe I couldn't finish." "Everyone's going to think I'm a failure too." Every athlete, at some point, has a major setback. After my first DNF, a wise friend reminded me of the setbacks that one of my heroes Dean Karnazes had gone through. Even the pros go through it. Why would I be exempt?
Some things are out of your control and you can't blame yourself for not being able to finish. Whether it's your equipment breaking- or your own body! Like my preparation for my second 50 miler, I "followed the rules". But you can't control every aspect of the day. I have a few ideas on what went wrong that day but ultimately, my body said "no".
Appreciate where you are and how you got there.
Whether it's a 5k or an ultra-endurance event, you put in the work to be able to toe the start line. You earned the ability to tackle on this race. Not everyone has the ability and/or the courage to do what you're attempting to do. Appreciate the fact that you are there. Do this even before you start. You made it this far. You are freaking amazing for attempting this challenge.
Go through the emotions, learn from it and don't ever give up. It's a setback. Heartbreaking, I know. But take from the experience - what went right? what went wrong? Could it have been prevented and if yes, how? If the answer is "I don't know what else I could've done to prevent this" then the biggest lesson I've learned is to let go. As a control freak, this is the hardest lesson of all. Each race teaches you something and it's usually the difficult ones or the ones you had to DNF that teach you the most on how to approach the next event. This is why I was so adamant about getting back on the bike, literally. My girls need to see this and I need to continue to practice it ~ it's a win-win.
Use the experience and the emotions to fuel your fire.
As for yesterday's events, I'm fired up to fix my bike and get back on the road. I want to get all of these learning lessons out of the way (as much as I can) before race day so I'm prepared. To get off to the right start, I joined a cycling club outside of our town. Even if I can't join in on the weeknight rides, I have a few group rides to join in on and hopefully, stories and lessons from fellow riders.
If you have your own DNF or comeback stories to share, leave a comment or message me!
Dye
Hey,
ReplyDeleteThis is exactly what i was looking for. Thank you for sharing. It will be really helpful for me :)
Regards
Apu
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