The story of a DNF

One of the rules of racing goes something like this: never eat something you haven’t tried before in the week leading up to a race. I’ve now added a little clause to that rule – never eat something out of a temperamental freezer two nights before a race. It seems the tuna steak I had defrosted to flake into my pasta had at some point been previously defrosted (and then refrozen). From there, everything went downhill. As well as having to chuck out the contents of my freezer, the Royal Parks Foundation Half Marathon was on Sunday, and while I knew I should be spending the day beforehand resting and carb loading, I was actually spending it with my head down a toilet.I wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to start the race because, while the sickness had stopped on Saturday afternoon, all I’d been able to eat was a small bowl of plain rice on Saturday evening and a piece of dry toast on Sunday morning. Hardly a recipe for glycogen-fuelled legs. However, I’d had to pull out of this very same race the year before, due to a chest infection, and I was desperate to give it a go, as the course looked amazing. This, coupled with the fact that the lovely people at Mizuno had given me the place, I was supposed to be running with a good friend who was embarking on her first half marathon, and Nokia had asked me to take photos during the run on my new N8 phone. I didn’t want to let anyone down, so I turned up at the start line, feeling decidedly unprepared to run 13.1 miles.

Difficult decision

Needless to say, the course was stunning and the atmosphere fantastic – running through some of London’s most scenic and famous royal parks, along the Embankment and in front of Buckingham Palace was a wonderful experience, but sadly, for me, it ended there, at mile six. I felt exhausted and, while I would have loved to have carried on, it was a muggy day and I decided it would be much better to quit while I was ahead, rather than hit the floor a few miles further on. I’ve never been a DNF (did not finish) before, and it was difficult ducking to the sidelines while my friend carried on (she was amazing and completed the race in 2 hours 17 minutes – I’m so proud of her!). But I knew I’d made the right decision and, once I’d found my friends and taken on some water and food, I decided not to dwell on it and made the most of cheering on the fantastic runners.The fact it has taken me more than a week to get round to writing this blog maybe has something to do with the fact it took me a while to come to terms with not finishing a race, but I’ve learned one vital lesson – you can do all the training in the world, but if something goes wrong on the day and you just can’t make it to the finish (or even the start) line, there is no shame in that. It’s better to stay safe, put it behind you and keep looking forwards. There will always be next year!