Why I'm happy I've had my first DNF.

Failing is an amazing and a necessary part of the endurance journey

Cliff tops in 100km/hr gusts of wind.

Before Anything Else: Respect the Medics

Before anything else (in case you don’t read to the end), please take this with you: respect the medical teams and volunteers. Their goal is to help every runner finish safely, but sometimes that means making the tough call to pull someone from the race. They have a duty of care, and if continuing puts your safety at risk, it’s their responsibility to stop you. And if we push on into danger, especially beyond aid stations, we’re not just risking ourselves, we’re putting the people who come to help us in harm’s way too. That’s not OK.

The Moment It Happened

This weekend, I DNF’d a race for the first time.

I was 105km into the 160km Cape to Cape ultra when the medics made the call to withdraw me from the race. I was severely vomiting from mild hypothermia. It wasn’t a decision I made; it was made for me, for my safety, the safety of others, and I’m grateful. In hindsight, I should have made the call myself.

What I Thought It Would Feel Like

I’ve often wondered how a DNF (Did Not Finish) would feel. Would I be embarrassed? Angry? Would I want to curl up in a ball and wait for the earth to swallow me up out of shame? Would it undermine who I am as a runner, a coach, a person?

The truth? None of that happened.

Instead, I felt a sort of clarity, I knew it was the right decision, I was grateful. This race didn’t define me, no race does. My effort, my commitment, my respect for my body and those around me, that is what matters. I walked away knowing I did everything I could, I gave it everything I had, and I’ve come away with more insight and opportunity for growth than any finish line could offer. It reminded me that the opinions of others shouldn’t matter nearly as much as how I view myself.

Failure Is the Middle, Not the End

There’s a narrative we tell ourselves, that failure is this unimaginable vortex of shame, we are so consistently bombarded by images of success and aspiration through social media, we’ve forgotten how to fail. We’ve forgotten that the failure isn’t the end of the story, it’s actually the middle. Our journey to failure starts with the development phase, in my case, signing up to a race and training for it. When I stepped on that start line, I have never felt so confident about my ability, my mindset, my preparedness. And then, I failed. But that’s not the end.

Now I get to learn again. I get to sit down, work out, what went wrong, and what are the controllable elements of that. When we realise that we are accountable, that there are actionable changes we can make, things we can do differently, there’s so much power in that. Now we are in charge again. Now we can start over, revisit parts of our training, our nutrition, our recovery days, strength training, whatever, and try again. That’s the middle section. The shift from powerless to powerful.

The one sunny part of day one.

Fear of Failure Holds Us Back

So the fear of failure is enough to stop us trying. The fear of the shame we would feel if we had to admit we didn’t finish is enough to put the brakes on before you’ve even started. I find this especially for women in sport, the need to "prove" ourselves and the barriers to entry are wrapped up in the idea that finishing is everything. That not completing something means we’ve failed. That we’ll let people down.

That it’s embarrassing.

Let’s unpack that.

Your People Love You, Not Your Result

Firstly, and most importantly; not finishing a race does not define who you are, your worth, or how much your ‘people’ love you. Sure, my friends and family are disappointed for me that I didn’t get the result I trained hard for, they aren’t disappointed in me. There’s no judgement. Just love, support, and a willingness to hear my story because they know it matters to me (and maybe because I made them listen over coffee) but overall they don’t care that I didn’t finish. They care I’m healthy, happy and ok. They’re upset for me, not at me.

So if you enter a race and don’t finish, your tribe are there for you, regardless. They are proud of your journey, they aren’t judging the outcome. Always remember, they love YOU, not because they need a result or an explanation and that is a powerful reminder that our worth isn’t tied to performance.

DNF as a Teacher

DNF’ing can be a powerful teacher, it’s data. It shows you your limits and gives you a roadmap to grow. It’s not failure: it’s feedback, it’s lessons. What needs to change next time? How do I adapt? How can I show up again, smarter, stronger?

Whether it’s sport, business, or personal goals, there’s huge value in not achieving the outcome you were aiming for, if it teaches you, grows you, and protects your long-term wellbeing. If you follow the story of any successful individual, the parts of their journey they attribute the most value to, are the times they failed, the mistakes they made.

The elite sports person, recognises the time they weren’t selected for a team or missed a qualifying time, the CEO of a global corporation speaks to the millions of dollars they lost in a poor decision, the famous musician recounts the months or years of playing badly or singing out of tune and writing lyrics that make them cringe. All of them have one thing in common, they took the opportunity to recognise the control they had in improving, they reflected on the changes they needed to make, and they all put them in to practice.

The start. Side ways rain and lighting to welcome us on course.

Recovery Before Rehab

There’s also the physical side of not completing a race: recovery before rehab. Obviously this only applies if you didn’t actually obtain an injury during a race and that being the cause of your DNF! In my case, lucky, I didn’t. I have long-term goals in this sport, and more importantly, a life to live outside of it. If I had continued to push on, spent additional hours out on course, my risk of obtaining an injury massively increases. So instead of having a couple of weeks to let the body recover, I would have been facing weeks of rehab, nursing tendon issues, torn muscles or broken bones. It’s just not worth it. It’s really not. (Well, maybe if it was Western States - lol!)

A DNF can often signal that our bodies need rest and attention before being ready to be pushed again. Seeing the good in a failure to finish a race or accomplish a goal can help us detach from our ego for long enough to expose the raw truth behind what needs refining, whether that’s nutrition, gear or mental or physical preparation, it’s going into the mines and striking gold.

It also gives us the opportunity to find some clarity in what worked well, what you nailed in training and on the day. It’s important to reflect on these positives, we learn that not everything is all bad, there are always great takeaways. By combining all sides, all the info, all the data, it sharpens us. Our future focus is the next chapter in the book. By sharpening our goals we have a clearer sense of why we are doing this as well as what really matters to us most.

To Anyone Who’s Nervous About Trying

One of the big reasons I wanted to write this was to illustrate to anyone lacking the confidence to take the step to sign up to something that scares them, that it’s ok to be worried about not completing it on the first go. Everyone has these moments in their life, absolutely everyone. It’s ok to be nervous about stepping up to a goal, the nerves show that the goal means something to you, what’s not ok is when we allow those nerves to ultimately control our actions, or more accurately, our inaction. We must learn to detach our identity to our outcome, we are whole as we are, our results don’t define us, our actions do.

Cold, wet and dark. 86km in.

What This Means to Me

I’ve always (well, maybe not always) but mostly, I am a strong minded, independent and slightly stubborn human being. I try my hardest to keep a positive mindset about most things, be resilient in the face of uncertainty and stay focused on the growth that lies in limitless potential. I truly believe in my heart of hearts, that anyone can achieve absolutely anything in life, as long as they believe they can and work with passion, consistency and grit to achieve it. A DNF doesn’t change any of this, it reinforces it. I thought I was mentally and emotionally tough, but I can become more fearless.

Discovering our limits is a powerful tool. You cannot truly grow until you know where you’re boundary is. In hindsight, feel I have signed up to races that have been within my comfort zone, or that I have known have been achievable, even if it’s to finish by scraping through the cutoff. Have I been lucky that I have never hit that physical, emotional or mental limit before? Maybe. But maybe I’m more fortunate now that I have, now to move beyond that boundary, I am forced to grow.

To do this, to show up with courage doesn’t mean not being afraid of failing, it means being afraid, and still showing up. That’s brave. It’s realising that not everything is in our control, and that’s ok, that’s showing up with humility and perspective.

In Closing

Overall, my intention with this debrief is to normalise the concept of earning the unwanted badge of honour of a DNF. Wear it with pride, use it to motivate you to come back stronger, more inspired and with a stronger focus on achieving what you know you can. Feel powerful and intentional in your next chapter and know that whilst finishing a race is inspiring, a success born from the ashes of disappointment is true power.

For anyone scared to sign up because they might not finish, sign up anyway. Show up anyway. I know it’s easy to write, but what’s the harm in trying? The finish line isn’t the only measure of success. Growth, courage, and self-respect? Those travel the entire course with you.

I’m recovering well and have made it safely back to Sydney. I’ve been overwhelmed (in the best way) by the messages, calls, and check-ins from friends and family during and after the event. It reconfirms just how lucky I am and makes my heart absolutely sing.

Shane the Medic who pulled me. He was so apologetic the next day, he had no reason to. He even wore team colours which made me like him even more!