DNFs in endurance sport: what if they’re not failures?

Who has never thought about giving up when the difficulties start piling up? Or when the pain is so intense that it makes the slightest movement impossible? There’s a gap between considering a DNF and accepting it. Not crossing the finish line is never insignificant. But the reasons for throwing in the towel are many, and deeply personal. Sometimes the body calls time. Loss of consciousness, injury or physical breakdown can ultimately overcome the desire to reach the finish. At other times, discomfort sets in and seems impossible to overcome. But is it really? Depending on factors such as pain tolerance, mental strength, ego and the way others see us, one athlete will push through while another will not. Failure, rational decision or physiological necessity: a closer look at the word that scares more than a few finishers, the DNF.

Why are DNFs viewed so negatively?

It almost sounds like a source of shame. Having to tell someone who is listening that you stopped. And yet, simply showing up on the start line already deserves respect. Getting there means preparing physically to be ready on race day. « Your body has to be ready to do it, says Fabio, an amateur long-distance triathlete. Whether it’s a marathon, a 10K or a 5K for someone who’s sedentary, everyone has their own Everest. »

To get there, the runner has worked tirelessly and followed their training plan to the letter, despite a busy life. So when the long-awaited moment arrives, they mainly want to deliver for themselves. To avoid regretting all those winter evenings when they missed out on having fun. « You tell yourself you made so many sacrifices to earn that medal, says Juliette, one of the 1,389 participants who DNF’d at this year’s Paris Marathon. In 2026, 2.41% of the field failed to finish, proof that most participants cling fiercely to that famous finisher’s medal, the reward for all the work they put in.

For some, it’s a matter of ego. « I want to prove to myself that I’m still strong, says the Frenchman finisher who completed the XXL triathlon in 9:31. The sentence I kept repeating was: “What kind of person are you if you give up when things get hard? Fabio, you signed up for this race to seek out difficulty.” » Others keep going out of respect for fellow professionals or their supporters. For Nikita Paskiewiez, a professional long-distance triathlete, finishing is almost a duty. « At the World Championships, when you’re competing at that level, if you’re in 30th and have a massive blow-up but can still walk, in a way you owe it to your fans to finish, especially when there are only about ten kilometres left. » Others, by contrast, give up out of « cowardice », according to the French athlete. « I know some women who don’t want a certain girl to be ahead of them. »

Still, not every DNF leaves a bitter taste. Nicolas Fiessinger, 21st at the 2017 Mountain Running World Cup for U18s, failed to finish his first marathon in Geneva last May. The frustration was certainly there, but he took it very well. His secret? A less comparison-driven approach, with less Strava and less reliance on his watch, along with an awareness that he was running for himself. « I played and lost, but I was calm and went into it without pressure. I’d done the work alongside a thousand other things, I felt good, and my loved ones were there. I run for myself and for them, not for other people, the photos or the medal, » he sums up. 

I don’t think giving up is part of our DNA.

When the body sets the limit

For many athletes, amateur and professional alike, a DNF is not an option. If their body allows them to continue, they do not even consider it, whatever the conditions. « In my head, giving up has always been out of the question, says Juliette, a two-time marathoner. « I don’t think it’s part of a trail runner’s DNA, insists ultra-endurance enthusiast Fabio, for whom walking is synonymous with giving up.

But sometimes there is no choice but to slow down. Like so many others, Fabio suffered from a lack of fuel caused by nutrition problems. During the Frenchman marathon, he had to fight an irresistible urge to walk. « My body had stopped responding, he explains. My heart rate dropped and, mentally, I was broken. » Nutrition can be a real curse. But what about the race-day incidents that leave no way back? Étienne Daguinos found that out the hard way when he was forced to DNF at the Tokyo Speed Race in May 2025, while targeting the European 10K record, after accidentally being tripped by a competitor.

In the face of these difficulties, mental strength and the ability to persevere take over. Fabio first accepted his physical limits. « I spent 10 kilometres fighting the urge to walk, telling myself: “Just think, you’ve got 10 kilometres of jogging left. The last two don’t count.” » Having already pictured himself in that state of distress during training helped him withstand it. « I had visualised myself there, and then I was there. Once you’ve decided you want it, you belong in the suffering. » To fight through the pain, he drew strength from the supporters cheering around the 10K loop. « Strangers gave me strength out of nowhere. On the third lap, when I was at my most tense, I grew wings for a kilometre. » The support of the crowd, the shouts of his loved ones and positive thoughts all helped bring him back to life, even lifting his pace for a while and giving him the sensation of having enough energy to carry on.

But finishing the race does not mean staying in the same mental state from start to finish. The most decisive state may be one of preservation: protecting yourself and conserving your energy. Adapting your strategy then becomes essential. Stomach cramps do not automatically mean a DNF if you can find a solution: repeated toilet stops, a change in nutrition or a better-tolerated drink can all help.

In a 2017 study published in the PubMed database, researchers even concluded that « finishers spend more time in states of preservation and less time in states of defeat than those who fail to finish ». In other words, those who make it to the end are not necessarily the ones who suffer less, but the ones who are better able to adapt their response to suffering.

That was the case for Nikita Paskiewiez, who suffered a corneal infection in both eyes during her first Embrunman in 2024. With 700 metres to go, she held on for a podium despite her severely impaired vision: « I couldn’t see anything, absolutely nothing. Everything was a blur. It was incredibly dangerous. I kept crying. And even then, it never crossed my mind to give up. You don’t give up until you fall. As long as there’s a little light left, you keep going. You trained for this. » In that situation, stopping would have been heartbreaking because her body was still responding perfectly, even if her eyes no longer allowed her to see normally.

The most resilient athletes may not be those who ignore pain, but those who learn to work with it. And sometimes, working with pain also means knowing when to stop. The question is whether stepping away, when continuing would put the body in danger, can really be considered a failure.

Can giving up sometimes be the truly brave choice?

What if a DNF turned out to be a considered decision? What if not pushing the body to its limits or making an injury worse was the healthiest choice? It is all the more courageous when you remember everything that went into reaching that start line.

Nicolas Fiessinger chose to see his DNF in Geneva as proof that he was on the right track: « I ran 30 km at 3:20/km, on pace for 2:19, even though I’d prepared for 2:22. That kind of effort comes at a cost, but I wanted to make the most of the great legs I had that day. Running at that pace for 30 km is worth a thousand victories, because it was unthinkable at the start of my preparation. » Sometimes, giving up also means preserving your body for what comes next. Limiting the risks and getting back to training sooner. « Right now, I have a slight Achilles tendon problem. On Sunday, if it hurts, I’ll stop straight away because my goals are not happening right now, Nikita says of the Ironman 70.3 Nice, scheduled for 28 June. When the bigger picture matters more than that day’s race, it is easier to ease off. For professionals, the equation can be more complicated. « Sometimes it’s better to quit on one Sunday so you can be ready the next Sunday and earn some money, » she adds.

What if this so-called failure ultimately made her stronger? Alessia Zarbo, a two-time European 10,000m silver medallist, saw her body destroy one of the moments that could have been the most significant of her career. During the 10,000m at the 2024 Olympics, after 25 minutes of racing, the French athlete collapsed and had to be carried away on a stretcher. She now sees the episode as a turning point: « There was no way I could have made it to the end. I’d had chronic fatigue for six months. My whole system had slowed down. I was doing some recovery runs at more than 165 bpm, and I had lots of minor injuries. It was complete overtraining linked to a lack of stability. I overcompensated and had reached the absolute limit. After that, I changed my training approach too, » she recalls.