DNF is a hard pill to swallow, even if it's not your A, or B, or C race for that matter. More than just the initial disappointment and whatever caused the misfortune in the first place, DNFs cast a looming and lingering sense of defeat every time you think about the race, see that race shirt in the closet, and hear someone talks about the race. I hope I could report a race of triumphant perseverance, but this is not the case.
Since I have written reports on my good races this year, I feel that it's important that I include this one, too. The short story is that I pulled my abductor muscle earlier this week, took two days off, hoped for the best, and toed the start line. When the increasing pain urged me to stop at the aid station at mile 14, I realized I could barely lift my leg up pass 45 degrees. At that point, I realized I had to either take the DNF, or finish the race with an injury.
Compounding the disappoint is the knowledge that I am not able earn my finisher's hoodie and award made by my friend, Derek. And to end this year with a DNF is very humbling. Never take running for granted, nor getting into a pair of pants, nor climbing into a bathtub.