DNF.

There are times in my life where I look back and think, “wow, I never thought I would be here” or “I don’t think my younger self would believe the things I’m learning and experiences I’m having” and, typically, these are all very positive appreciations. Usually, I can look back and be incredibly grateful for all the growth and development that has made me the person I am today. But, instead I find myself looking at meet results- my name under the 600m run and a fat D.N.F. next to it. I dropped out of my race less than 1 lap in.. 

I’m coming back from surgery. And I guess I underplayed how much this surgery would truly impact my performance, both my mental and physical well-being has never felt lower than it does now, nearly a year post-op. I had my sesamoid bone removed in March of ‘23, during my sophomore year of collegiate track competition because the pain that had been causing me for the last year was getting to the point of ridiculousness. I wasn’t able to compete much during my freshman year because of this pain, and it’s selfishly painful to watch my current freshman teammates thrive and PR in all their races. I feel like that opportunity was stripped from me the moment my foot started hurting. We didn’t know it was broken until I had tried (very unsuccessfully) to run a full indoor, outdoor, and cross country season with constant pain. I was managing it- cross training the really bad days, no spikes on the good days, and racing short distances to get the feeling of worth into my veins. And then, an x-ray showed it was cracked in half, and had two splintering pieces off of it. This is a bone, an injury, that would not heal. 

So, I went forward with the surgery. I followed my PT, I cross trained daily. I made sure that I wasn’t overtraining as this is something I frequently see in the running community. I dove into my other passions and traveled, dove deep into dentistry and studying. I thought I would be better. I had a hiccup during summer- a case of the unknown led me to multiple ER visits, epipens, and Mayo clinic trips, and another medical redshirt for my junior cross country season. I didn’t think I would be as upset by this as I was.. Afterall, I never even ran cross country in high school and I’m a bit of a wimp when the distance is more than ½ mile. Missing out on another season was devastating. I wanted so badly to run, to have the stamina and strength to complete a cross workout. But instead I found myself using our lightspeed lift treadmill, swimming, biking, and ellipticalling all of my workouts. It wasn’t until the middle of September that I was finally able to run a road workout. It took even longer to work my way onto the track and I’ll be honest- the workouts were kicking my butt. I felt like I didn’t have the speed, strength, or stability as my teammates who had a full cross country season, but I was optimistic about indoor season. 

I had been waiting a full year to run an indoor meet. I was horrifically nervous for the first one and my track anxiety was triple what it used to be. I could feel myself slipping away, but I wanted to race so badly that I reinforced the positive thoughts and tried to ignore the others. My first few meets were okay. I walked away with a couple of (slow) heat wins, and actually raced my first ever indoor 800m - yes, as a Junior, it was my first one due to this injury. Which brings me to last Friday. I was ready to run. I was in a good position in my heat, with speedy teammates that I know I can chase and pack up with, and I had been telling myself my mantra, “my foot is healed, my body is strong, my mind is sharp” which has helped me in the past. I did my warmup and I was feeling good.. Until I stepped onto the track in my trainers and took my first stride. A simple 15 seconds on the track and my foot ached the kind it only does after the race. The first thing I want to do after I cross the finish line is yank my right spike off and get ice on my foot. This feeling was, of course, not ideal when I hadn’t even put my spikes on, so I told my coach the situation and she allowed me permission to drop if I noticed it at all in my race. 

Usually, the adrenaline pushes out the pain and I can run my race. Not this race. In the first 100m, I already knew I was compensating and that my foot was telling me to stop. I ran straight into my coach’s arms and began to weep. I am sick of this injury. 

DNF means “did not finish” and the only time I’ve dropped out of a race was during a time trial 800 where i passed out at the 600m mark because I was severely under fueled and underweight. This entire season has been about building my confidence, being able to withstand the anxious pressure of a collegiate meet, and finding my love for competition again. I’ve cross trained nearly all of my training and it still feels discouraging. I’m in my head and I’m struggling to not compare. It’s hard enough to not compare myself to fellow athletes and teammates, but worst it’s harder to not compare myself to my younger self. I’m still not at my freshman PR’s. One of my teammates told me they were proud of me for not finishing the race. She said, “I know you made the harder decision, and you should be proud you listened to your body.” There's a lot of truth in that statement. It is absolutely the easier decision to keep running. It’s way easier to feel the shame of running a slow time rather than stopping for an injury people can’t even see anymore. The bone is GONE. it’s not even in my body and it’s probably entirely disintegrated from this Earth yet it still haunts me. With it, the bone took all the cushion for my first metatarsal. I’ve been so frustrated with this injury, and I’m sure there’s light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s been an incredibly hard journey. 

So, next time you see an athlete who doesn’t finish their race, know that it hurts them mentally just as much as it does physically. While it’s great to post all of the positives, PR’s, and training logs, it’s just as valuable to show that you’re still a person and that emotions can and certainly do run high in any and all sports. 

Sincerely, waiting for the comeback. 

xx

Beka