In Search of My DNF: The Soul of Ultra Trail Running
There’s an unspoken truth among trail runners: sometimes the most profound victories come disguised as defeats. The letters “DNF” (Did Not Finish) cast a shadow over every race, yet paradoxically, they might be the very reason we lace up our shoes in the first place.
Why Do We Race?
What drives us to pay money, pin numbers to our shirts and traverse punishing terrain when we could simply run for free, unburdened by timing chips and aid stations? Is it to test our fitness? To showcase our abilities? To clock impressive times?
For me, it’s something more elusive — I run to discover my breaking point, that precise moment when my mind decides “enough is enough.” It’s a peculiar quest, actively seeking the boundaries of your own resilience.
The Xiamen UTMB: A Humbling Experience
My recent attempt at the Xiamen UTMB 50K category became an unexpected masterclass in finding limits. With over 2600m of elevation gain, the course presented a formidable challenge for someone training in Singapore, where finding even 260m of elevation requires creative route planning.
I had prepared meticulously for the distance but had neglected the critical component of vertical training. The result? Severe muscle strain and debilitating cramps that threatened my race.
Another oversight: I hadn’t packed salt tablets. In Singapore’s climate, I’d never needed them during training. Xiamen’s weather had been forecasted as cool and manageable, but race day brought unexpected heat that left numerous runners nauseated and struggling.
While I could tolerate the temperature, the mountainous terrain proved my undoing. Each climb and descent taxed my unprepared legs in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. The mechanics felt foreign — high steps stretching muscles in unfamiliar patterns, both ascending and descending.
Equipment Lessons Learned
My footwear, perfectly adequate for Singapore’s manicured trails, felt woefully inadequate on Xiamen’s rugged mountain paths. The grip performed reasonably on ascents but became treacherously slippery on downhill sections, particularly at the heel area, where I had to extra careful not to overload impact for fear of twisting out the ankle over loose stones and rocks.
I questioned everything: Was it my socks creating too much room in the shoe? Should I have chosen a more aggressive tread pattern? These questions accumulated with each precarious step, adding mental fatigue to the physical demands.
The Philosophy Behind the Suffering
Mountain trail running offers endless opportunities to test theories, discover what works, and learn from what doesn’t. Each attempt becomes a living laboratory where failures aren’t setbacks but valuable data points.
But this brings us back to the fundamental question: Why do we subject ourselves to this voluntary hardship?
It’s the adventure — experiencing new places while attempting to navigate and overcome natural challenges. At its core, ultra trail running distills life to its essence: person versus nature in a one-on-one confrontation.
Nature is vast and unforgiving; we are small and fragile. Yet when we manage to overcome both external elements and internal doubts, continuing to push forward regardless of distance, we discover something profound about ourselves.
This is what I’m truly seeking: those raw encounters with nature’s forces, stripped of pretense, where I can discover exactly when my mind will surrender and admit defeat. Ironically, in searching for my DNF, I’ve found something infinitely more valuable — the true nature of personal endurance.
For in these moments of extremity, when our smartphones can’t save us and our excuses carry no weight, we find back our authentic selves — and that discovery is worth every painful step along the way.
