Did Not Finish. You might think that having the letters 'DNF' set against your name in the results sheet of an endurance gravel event would be a bad thing, but it’s something that is likely to happen to all riders who push themselves to the limit at some point. We asked the riders from the Gravel Alliance to give us their top tips for avoiding DNFing, but also what to do if it does happen.
Image courtesy of Cadence Images
Dalila Lecky, 0 DNFs - “Get accustomed to problem-solving.”
Get accustomed to problem-solving. Sooner or later something will go wrong. Don't catastrophise. Figure out if you can fix the issue to a good enough standard that you don't have to DNF and then do it.
Know your bike and how to fix the most likely things that could go wrong with it and bring the tools/spare parts that you might need to do so. But don't go overboard - it's all extra weight that you'll have to carry up every hill.
Avoid new kit. This is not the time to try out a new saddle or a new pair of shoes. Sheer stubbornness is the only thing that has kept me going when painfully uncomfortable kit has threatened to end my ride. It's best to avoid this in the first place.
Image courtesy of Nils Laengner
Sofiane Sehili – # undisclosed - In my world of ultracycling, the rule is "never scratch at night".
Not finishing is not the end of the world. It eventually happens to all of us and there's no shame in it. Whether you bonked, crashed, got injured, broke your bike or simply don't feel like riding anymore, giving up is part of your journey as a cyclist.
But before you do it, give it some thought. In my world of ultracycling, the rule is "never scratch at night." Sleep on it. If you still feel like dropping out when you wake up, do it: It means it's probably the right decision.
But once it's done, don't punish yourself. On the contrary, do things that will make you feel better, such as eat a giant ice-cream or have a few beers in good company. If you stopped because of horrendous weather, spend the evening beside a roaring fire drinking hot chocolate. After all, even if you didn't go as far as you planned, you still rode your bike. So, reward yourself and stay positive.
Once you make it home, go back to the drawing board and figure out what went wrong and how you can fix it. Thorough bike maintenance, better gear, structured training, better planning... There are always solutions and you have many more bike rides ahead of you.
Image courtesy of Sergio Villalba
Henna Palossaari - 1 DNF - Ask yourself, is it worth it?
My one and only DNF was at the island-hopping ultra-distance race Granguanche in 2022, when my Achilles tendon decided it had had enough. I wrote about the experience in detail here. I’d made it as far as the second-to-last island on the second-to-last day of riding, but every pedal stroke was hurting. I was too tired to make a sensible decision, so I decided to sleep on it. The next day, I felt shooting pains in my achilles as I walked to breakfast, but I still hoped to finish. Back on the bike, every pedal stroke hurt like hell. Eventually, it dawned on me that risking my whole summer of riding for just one finish line wasn’t worth it. I scratched, proudly. Bummed, but proud.
Ibai Fradejas - # unknown - “I have more DNFs than victories to my name.”
The first time I scratched in an ultra-distance gravel race was my own doing because I’d turned up feeling rough after a vaccination just a day or two earlier. After a long stint in the lead, my head was thundering over every bump and I went from enjoying the race to suffering in a matter of seconds, so I decided to abandon, putting my own recovery as the priority.
On the second and more recent occasion at Badlands this year, the DNF at 622 km was my fault again, but for an entirely different reason – my battery went flat, but I’d chosen not to bring a Di2 charger since I’d sailed through the two previous years without needing one. In repentance, I shelled out the cost of a taxi to take me to the finish line so I could cheer the rest of the riders in.
The logistics of DNFing are often as complex as the emotions it stirs up. It’s bittersweet - the suffering ends, but so does the reason why you’re there. There’s always a lengthy do-I-don’t-I phase, where you weigh up the months of training, passion and dedication against your rational brain telling yourself to stop.
Nobody likes to give up, but I am who I am because of the times I've tried and the times I've had to give up... It's not all about victories, it's about showing up and trying!