DNF

3 lessons from my first trail race and DNF of my running career

After about 3 hours of mud, steep inclines, and singletrack trail that seemed to never end, I tapped out of my first 50k last weekend. My legs were cooked by mile 15, my confidence was dwindling, and the idea of another 3 plus hours out there was as unappealing as anything ever has been. So at the aid station half way through I called my ride, turned my tracker off, changed into some dry clothes and went home. No finisher medal, t shirt, or finish line celebration was had.

It’s the first time I didn’t finish a race, and something I didn’t think was a possibility if you had asked earlier that morning. The official results don't even show my splits or participation in the event. Its as if I didn't even show up. That’s depressing when I think about the last 8 weeks of trying to fit runs in, intensely focusing on training only to end my race day early.

My decision surprised me a bit, but wore off pretty quickly. In the care ride home I think Mrs. Boron expected me to be a bit more pissed off than I was. But if the DNF were stages of grief, I weirdly went straight to acceptance. It wasn't my day.

The Buckeye Trail taught me a few lessons, and served up a big slice of humble pie. And the day was still a success, even without crossing the finish line. Besides the mud, the course was beautiful. It was a completely new experience for me, and I learned some good lessons, both running-specific and life-specific.

The trail is not the road

When it comes to running, I'm known for using data to try and gauge performance. and during training I had zero reliable data to use and to predict how race day would go and it drove me crazy. No one on Reddit equating road times to the trail, no reasonable insights from my Garmin. Nothing.

My mind couldn't comprehend what my road marathon personal bests would translate to, so when I made the mistake of looking at previous year results and being kind of unimpressed, I thought to myself, ‘eh, I can run that fast”.

Spoiler alert - I cannot (yet). And the mid 8-minute miles I saw on the leaderboard are much more impressive after getting out there and having splits that ranged from 10-14 minutes. The trail is not the road, and it's foolish to think as much.

Logistically, there is nowhere to pass any slower runners on singletrack. You have to wait for a wide stretch of trail to go around, otherwise you risk tumbling down a hill or into a tree, which hinders the pace. The trail was much more technical than I anticipated; aside from the unusual roots and rocks, there were creeks to cross and mud to step around or slide through. You’re not running fast though all of that. And then there were the elevation changes. Uphill climbs looked less like running and more like hiking. And technical downhill routes made it hard to unleash some speed. You have to be strategic about which parts of the course are actually runnable, and adjust your expectations. It’s unreasonable to compare the road to the trail. They are completely different sports.

Which makes strength training even more important

With dramatic elevation changes and uneven terrain, it seems obvious that strength would play a larger role in trail running. But I was unaware how much my neglecting the weight room would come back to haunt me. It’s probably the reason I couldn't go another 3 hours.

From a cardiovascular standpoint, I was more than fine. My heart rate stats looked good, but didn't have the strength to power through another 15 miles of hills. It’s a big takeaway for the next attempt. You gotta hit the weights!

It's ok to DNF

A DNF can seem like a scarlet letter on the race results, but even the best in the sport do it. I had the moment of bargaining in the middle of the woods; do I push through or do I cut my losses? In hindsight, came to race day thinking I was in much better shape than I was.

Sometimes you need to cut those losses in the short term to go back and rethink things for the long term, which is exactly where I’m at. A DNF doesn’t mean that the day was a failure. I wanted to try trails this year to see what it was about, test myself, and continuing to grow as a runner. I accomplished those things. I’ll be back in time, smarter, stronger, and hopefully faster.