What does it mean to quit?
Many years ago, I took on a massive challenge: The Shenandoah Mountain 100. This is a legendary mountain bike event in western Virginia where riders experience 14,000 ft of climbing over 100 miles of gravel, dirt, rocks, and pavement. Despite my preparation and optimism entering the race, I was thoroughly humbled at mile 75. As I stood on top of a mountain, considering the descent I would be completing (in the dark), I realized that I was tired and shaky. I began to question my ability to safely cross the finish line. Standing on the top of that mountain, darkness descending on the valley below me, I quit.
A DNF (short for Did Not Finish) is a devastating experience. In the heat of the moment, you are most likely weighing your risk of injury/death against your pride in completing an athletic event. A well-trained athlete will know exactly what lies on either end of that scale: The struggle, victory, but possible physical or emotional harm versus loss, possible emotional harm, but comfort and likely physically intact. There are times where a Pyrrhic victory simply isn’t worth it. It is only during the fallout, found in one’s own torn emotions as well as from the torrent of outsider opinions that DNFs really kick our ass.
Yes, I am obliquely referring to Simone Biles and her Twisties. Frankly, I don’t care to have an opinion on what she should or shouldn’t have done. I don’t know her, I don’t know her personal battles, I’m not in the room with her as she works through her struggles. I do know that she competes at the very highest level of a physically and mentally demanding sport that is also extremely dangerous. If she says she can’t do it, I have nothing to say but “you do you”. Unfortunately for her, she DNF’d at the worst possible moment: On the world’s most visible stage in the world’s most-followed Olympic sport for a nation that only understands “Gold”. What was inconvenient and disappointing to us, will likely take a heavy toll on her for the rest of her life. Cut her some slack.
And cut yourself some slack. Maybe you didn’t cross a finish line, an injury pulled you out of the middle of training, you DNF’d. The reasons may have been sound - or maybe in hindsight, they were stupid. To this day, when I think about the SM100, I question if I really needed to quit. “If I had just had that one person there to encourage me, if I had practiced just a little bit more…” It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change my status as an athlete who loves to play. Some days you finish, some days you don’t. The point is- you do your best to love the way you move and you do it as much as possible.
