On DNSing

I have DNSed (Did Not Start) 5 times in my very short bike racing career. This means that I was registered for the race, paid, there was a number waiting for me, and I did not make it to the start line. For one reason or another, on race day, I knew I could not physically race. For me, it takes something really bad to convince me to DNS. I’ve had food poisoning from being fed gluten at a restaurant (I’m celiac) the night before — thank goodness we had a hotel room that night and we weren’t truck camping. Another time, I caught a terrible virus that gave me a fever and caused me to re-experience my breakfast in our hotel room. This time I even kitted up and dragged myself to the start line (I tried to convince myself it was just nerves), but I started to see spots and I blacked out while waiting for the gun and smartly pulled myself over to a grassy spot, sat down, and called for help. A very nice person drove me back to my car. I was mortified, but also so so sick.

If I’ve trained for the race and I care about it, DNSing has been emotionally hard. My body recently forced me to skip two races in a row that I was registered and stoked for — Sea Otter Fuego and CCCX #5, and training during the 2 weeks in between the two races. In sum, I had to take a month off. I was the series leader in the CCCX and badly wanted to do the last race in a series that I was so proud of. My husband reminded me that my sadness at not racing the last race is because I did so darn well in the prior 4 races. Touché.

At first, I promised to go to the races anyway and cheer on teammates though I could not ride. That is what the best teammates do, right? However, I found that I was really sad, and I needed to put myself first. Is it a bit dramatic to be this sad about having to pull out last minute, probably. But it’s honestly how I felt. I have a very time-consuming job, and if I have time planned for myself that isn’t work, like a race, I make the most of it. In this case, I did the best service to myself by doing what I most wanted to do: not go to the race that I was sad not to compete in. Instead, I did mega self care. I got a pedicure. I did some light retail therapy. I worked on the book I’m writing. I went climbing. I did yoga. And I spared myself from having to explain over and over to teammates why I was there but not racing.

This makes me not the best possible teammate, but it also helped me get out of a deep funk. I can be the best possible teammate another day.

I don’t want to end this short post with an annoying positive message about how to make lemonade. However, the DNS experiences have taught me a few things about being a racer. For one: I will never go out to eat the night before a race. I have too many food allergies. If we’re on the road, I’ll cook on our camp stove or I’ll bring dinner with me from home. Also, I’ll wear a mask if I’m nervous about catching something. And a second thing: my body is in charge of my goals. All of the process goals I am working toward in my training for race day have to be “approved” by my body on race day in order to try to execute them. In other words: if body says no, that just means I’m human. If I have to take time off, that’s okay too. Even when I’m not sure I will heal, I somehow do, and I come back. A DNS is just a bad day and lost money. I would rather DNS than start a race that I know for a fact I can’t finish and do potential harm to my system.