Posted on May 26, 2026 at 06:00 AM
A DNFOr “I didn’t finish” one of the most difficult experiences in endurance sports. There’s no medal waiting at the finish line, no victorious race photo, no neat box to inspect after months of training.
But sometimes, after a lot of thought, you may be able to glean something more valuable from the race result, such as lessons in resilience, perspective, and identity that go beyond performance. We sat down with three athletes to hear their DNF stories, what happens after a race collapses, and how they learned to move on.
Roundtable discussion on DNF (“not finished”) in triathlon
Our triathletes:
- Daniel HurtArlington, Virginia, age group athlete, endurance coach, and personal trainer
- Elliot BachBoulder, CO, professional triathlete, coach and owner of Next Gen Racing
- Frederick “Freddy” Funka German professional triathlete living in Austria
Triathlete: Let’s start with the recent DNF stories. What happened?
Daniel Hurt (DH): I competed in the Ironman Musselman 70.3 last year, and was completely humbled by the swim conditions. On the morning of the race, the wind was blowing, it wasn’t legal to wear a wetsuit, and suddenly the lake was mixed with huge waves. I’m not an athlete, a swimmer first. I’m a triathlon runner, and I was not prepared for these conditions. After about 400 yards, I started vomiting into the lake. I swam kayak to kayak, but each time it was the same story: nauseous, disoriented, struggling to stay calm. I finally looked at my watch for the first time. I was in the water for 20 or 30 minutes and barely made any progress. I was completely exhausted. At some point, I stopped asking if I could keep going and started asking: “Why am I doing this?” I knew I had to call it.
Elliot Bach (EB): My case is a little different because my DNFs actually started after I was hit by a truck in 2023. I ran away from life – shattered collarbone, punctured lung, broken ribs, torn MCL, broken vertebrae. The doctors basically told me, “You’ll probably walk again, but a triathlon is unlikely.” Obviously I ignored that. But I came back very quickly. It hastened the process. I broke my foot before one of my comeback races, shattered my other collarbone in another crash, and then had several DNFs trying to get back into racing professionally.
The most recent was Ironman Texas last month. I started to feel weird on the bike, but I kept pushing. Then, as I’m running away, my body shuts down: my heartbeat goes through the roof, I feel dizzy, I lose consciousness. I ended up on the floor, and the doctors pulled me out. It was hard because mentally I still wanted to leave.
Freddy Funk (FF): My DNF was at Ironman New Zealand in March. It was a more strategic decision, which makes it complicated in a different way. I was trying to qualify for the Ironman World Championships after coming back from a broken elbow. The race started much better than expected. I was a good swimmer and a strong biker, but as I ran I realized I simply wouldn’t get a qualifying spot for Kona. I could probably still finish in the top 10, but I needed to finish higher. I was asking myself, Is the finish worth the recovery cost if this is not the goal achieved? As professionals, you sometimes have to think long term. After debating with myself for several kilometers, I stopped when I saw my wife on the track. Even though I thought it was the right decision, it was still emotionally difficult.
Trio: Let’s talk about it. Describe the emotional effects of DNF.
AED: For me, everything was fine until they put me in the lifeboat. Then I lost it completely. I was crying, breathing dryly, thinking, Oh my God, I can’t believe I did this. I feel like a failure. There was another woman sitting next to me, maybe ten years older than me. We were cold, miserable and crying. She looked at me and asked, “Is this your first DNF?” I said yes, and she said, “Me too, and I’ve done this race 10 times. This is the worst water we’ve ever had.”
That proved everything true for me. I realized, Well, I’m not just taking offense, this was really hard. Then we got out of the water, and honestly, getting out of the race after a DNF is one of the hardest parts. Everyone is cheering because they didn’t realize you came on a rescue boat. You still have to cross the timing mat so they can count everyone coming out of the water. There are also all the logistics, like they won’t let you into certain areas, and you can’t leave right away. At one point, my husband and I couldn’t find each other, and I was standing there crying while the volunteers kept redirecting me.
dad: Yes, sometimes you feel a lot of anger at first. I was angry after Texas, really angry. Especially because I wanted to keep going, and that decision was made by my body myself. So he wasn’t fun to be around. I just wanted to get out of there and leave town. We put a lot of time and energy into these races, so I was very frustrated.
FF: I think there are different types of bad racing. Sometimes you train really well, you’re in good shape, and then it doesn’t come on race day. These are often the hardest because you can’t fully explain what went wrong. But there are also races that are out of your control: MechanicsOr getting sick, or, in my case, in New Zealand, deciding to opt out because it seemed like the smartest option to me. Of course, it was still disappointing, but I wasn’t completely devastated because deep down I thought I made the right decision.
Triathlete: Each of you have shared your recent DNFs on social media. Did you feel like you owed your followers an explanation?
AED: One of my catchphrases actually comes from when I was working at a company before I became a coach. I once said to a co-worker who was going through career turmoil: “Dude, you don’t owe anyone anything.” I’ve carried that into my life. People who care will understand why I don’t share something or give me space, and people who are just curious don’t really matter. With DNF, it wasn’t about explaining it for the sake of it, but about sharing a story that people could relate to or learn from. This is the coach in me. I try to find something in every experience that someone else can take away.
FF: Yes, I try to share everything on Instagram, YouTube, and Strava; Not just good races, but bad days and DNFs too. On Strava, I share all my data. I really have nothing to hide. For me, it’s about being honest with the people who follow my journey as a professional triathlete. It also makes everything more authentic. It helps followers and fans get to know you because you’re human too, and professional athletes have bad days.
dad: When something like a DNF happens, we often assume that everyone is watching and judging, but most people move quickly. They focus on their races and their lives. But it’s still part of my story. I’ve had a lot of injuries and a lot of DNFs, but the drive is still there. I’m trying to get back to the top of the sport, and I still have big goals for triathlon. Sharing those moments helps me look back and appreciate the process. My path hasn’t been linear, but that doesn’t mean I’m behind. And I still show up every day. I still love what I do, and I still love racing courses. Even when things don’t go my way, there’s always something to learn. One race, good or bad, does not define me as an athlete.
Triathlete: Danielle and Freddie, can you share more about how you disentangle the DNF in your results from your identity as an athlete?
AED: Even though it was bad at the moment, I had to break it down and put it on another shelf because I still had bigger goals. I wasn’t going to stop working towards them. Later that day, after the race track was empty, I took my bike out, got on the track, and did a run as well. This made things a little easier knowing that I was ready to go the distance.
For me, it’s about respect: respect the distance, respect the race, but also realizing that you are stronger than one moment in one race. You will have bad races, whether it is a DNF or just a bad day. It’s part of it. If you haven’t had one before, you’re probably not overstepping your bounds. You can’t stay in that moment forever. Sometimes it’s not really your day.
FF: It’s a bit of a selfish sport, and I think you always have to think of yourself first. Even saying that sounds a bit selfish, but you’re doing it for yourself, for enjoyment, performance, and fun. Sometimes it’s better to make the difficult decision to withdraw so you can try again in a few weeks or protect your health. I also tend to quickly focus on what went well rather than what didn’t. Sometimes it’s helpful to write it down, like in an Instagram post, to process it. You usually get a lot of positive messages, which helps.
dad: After my accident, I had to completely separate self-worth and results. Before the accident, my path was strong. Then, suddenly, I was relearning how to walk and stack DNFs. One race does not define you. I don’t want to see a DNF in my pro results – no one does – but if that defined you, many endurance athletes would quit.
Triathlete: There is a lot of stigma around quitting in endurance sports. What do you think about it now?
AED: I have learned to step back from the stigma. Ultimately, this is my race. If I make the decision that’s right for me, that’s enough. I actually declined again in a low-stakes race last week, and I was surprisingly fine. I treated it like swimming practice, and it wasn’t a big deal. I tell athletes the same thing: reboot the stigma surrounding it. Who cares? It’s your sweat, your money.
dad: I will say, every time you say no to a race, it makes it easier to quit again. But it can also make it easier to accept the next condition. If you can accept it and move on, that helps (remove the stigma of it). I DNF’d Ironman Texas on Saturday, and by Monday morning, I was already focused on the next race. The people who supported me still support me. Ultimately, no one judges it the way you think.
FF: Of course, it’s always a different story for amateur athletes. Here, it’s all about finishing the race, and I understand that. Some people disagreed with my decision to withdraw from New Zealand. I received comments saying I could have finished the race or that I didn’t respect the race. Those comments still make me think, Yes, I probably could have finished. But in the end, I thought I made the right decision for something bigger and longer-term, and trusting that made it easier to move forward.
Triathlete: What do you say to an athlete who is devastated by their first DNF?
AED: Feel your feelings. Cry if you need to. Give yourself 24 hours to get over it. But don’t stay there forever. A DNF is not proof that you are “bad.” Sometimes it’s evidence that you tried something hard.
dad: Don’t let one race rewrite your identity. No one remembers your DNFs as much as you think they do. Your people still support you. Your fitness is still there. You still belong in this sport.
FF: We all strive to get to that finish line, but it doesn’t have to be the be all and end all. Sometimes it’s better to make the difficult decision to quit so you can try again in a few weeks or whenever. In triathlon, it’s not just about the finish line. It’s also about being able to get back and race again.
