Staring across the bergschrund, a lump forms in my throat and my stomach churns. Before me lies a deep, dark blue void—a seemingly bottomless icy crevasse at the top of the glacier. The sight is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Cold air surrounds me, and the sound of water dripping somewhere in the blackness below adds to the tension. When I peer into the darkness, a sense of dread overtakes me. The summit isn’t far from this point. We’re so close, but somehow, it doesn’t feel certain that I’ll ever reach it.

I hate when it shows up…

That miserable feeling standing at a starting line feeling like you don’t belong. That for some reason your mind tells you that you’re not worthy of being here…

I remember one of my first marathons picking up my race packet and looking around intimidated. My mind was racing: “These people look athletic! - I don’t look like that - What are you doing here!?”

I’d have a sinking feeling – the self-critic came out whips and all.

You trained for months. You imagined crossing the finish line. You pushed through every cold, early morning, spent time away from family, friends, work, ran your heart out…and then…You didn’t finish.

A DNF can cut deep. It can shake your confidence, your identity as an athlete, and your trust in your own body. I am no stranger to DNF’s – just check out this post a few years back and this podcast. But I’m going to tell you, DNF’s are not the opposite of success. They’re opportunities to rebuild self-belief from the inside out.