Great article, and thanks for the research! In my last 100, which ended up being my first DNF ... at mile 72, I wasn't battling pain. My struggle was desire. I faced a conflict between wanting to finish and not caring about finishing at all. Now that we're a year removed from that very hot August day in the mountains, where I puked my way through the canyons for 30 miles, I still struggle with the fact that I didn't DNF because of pain but because I just didn't feel like doing it anymore. That said, the first 15 hours of that day had tons of meaning, so it was worth the pain and the shame of dropping.
I remember reading that one, just went back to read it again—what a rollercoaster. DNFs suck, there’s no point sugarcoating or rationalizing it. Even if you absolutely did the right thing dropping out (which I think you did), they still suck. But you’re right about the importance of those first 15 hours. Also, [everything your friend Sol said to you the next day].
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment!
I appreciate you re-reading it — and sharing your perspective. The key lesson learned is that I now understand the consequences of not running with a full heart and purpose (and also making decisions on a massive fueling deficit)
Great article. Also, I heard an interview with a neurologist who added another element to this “brain = pain” idea. When you get an injury, your brain continues to send pain signals even after the injury heals. In other words, your hamstring tear has healed, but when you try to run again, your brain sends a twinge of pain as a way of asking “Are you sure this is safe.” If you’re sure, your continued running will persuade the brain that it is indeed safe, so the brain stops sending pain signals. (Of course, sometimes your brain is right the first time, so be careful.)
Great article, and thanks for the research! In my last 100, which ended up being my first DNF ... at mile 72, I wasn't battling pain. My struggle was desire. I faced a conflict between wanting to finish and not caring about finishing at all. Now that we're a year removed from that very hot August day in the mountains, where I puked my way through the canyons for 30 miles, I still struggle with the fact that I didn't DNF because of pain but because I just didn't feel like doing it anymore. That said, the first 15 hours of that day had tons of meaning, so it was worth the pain and the shame of dropping.
I remember reading that one, just went back to read it again—what a rollercoaster. DNFs suck, there’s no point sugarcoating or rationalizing it. Even if you absolutely did the right thing dropping out (which I think you did), they still suck. But you’re right about the importance of those first 15 hours. Also, [everything your friend Sol said to you the next day].
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment!
I appreciate you re-reading it — and sharing your perspective. The key lesson learned is that I now understand the consequences of not running with a full heart and purpose (and also making decisions on a massive fueling deficit)
Beautifully written! 🙌
Thank you so much, Scott!
Great article. Also, I heard an interview with a neurologist who added another element to this “brain = pain” idea. When you get an injury, your brain continues to send pain signals even after the injury heals. In other words, your hamstring tear has healed, but when you try to run again, your brain sends a twinge of pain as a way of asking “Are you sure this is safe.” If you’re sure, your continued running will persuade the brain that it is indeed safe, so the brain stops sending pain signals. (Of course, sometimes your brain is right the first time, so be careful.)
Fascinating! I came across something like that, but it wasn’t too detailed. Do you mind sharing the link for that interview (if you have it)?
Thank you so much for reading!
I haven’t been able to find it, but I’ll keep looking.
Great article
Thank you!