Robin Hood 100 - DNF
In my head running a 100-mile race is the ultimate test of physical endurance, mental fortitude, and unwavering determination. It’s the kind of challenge that attracts those who are willing to push their limits and brave the unknown. But even with all the preparation, training, and optimism leading up to race day, things don’t always go as planned. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, the decision to drop out becomes the wisest, and perhaps most important, choice we can make.
I found that out first hand when I had to drop out of The Robin Hood 100 at mile 78. Up until mile 62, everything was going according to plan. I was cruising, feeling strong, and ahead of my pacing strategy. But then, out of nowhere, I started to experience stomach issues that would haunt me for the rest of the race. Hours of nausea, vomiting, and an inability to keep any nutrition down eventually forced me to face the hard truth: I wasn’t going to finish. The straw that broke the camels back was when I noticed blood when I went to the toilet. That’s never a good sign!
My stretch goal for this race had been to finish in under 20hrs. This was a very ambitious goal but having a time goal really motivates me. As the course was relatively flat, I felt (and still do feel) that this was achievable.
The first 62 miles went well. I ran my second fastest marathon, 50k and set a new 100k PB. My crew, Dan and Jay were amazing. Meeting me at every pre-agreed location and had everything ready for me.
It was an unexpectedly hot and humid day, when the sun went down this is when the problems started. I’m no stranger to running in the dark, but I think the sudden drop in temperature may have affected me. I wasn’t really relying on the check points for fuel as I had my crew to give me what I wanted at various points throughout the course. After filling my bottles up at a check point a grabbed a couple of biscuits and set off. As soon as I had eaten those biscuits I started retching and vomiting. I’m aware that stomach issues can happen when you run these distances, but this was the first time it had ever happened to me.
I’ve ran enough ultramarathons to know that there would be challenges. This type of problem solving is one of the many things I enjoy about them. But stomach problems are a special kind of misery. They don’t just affect your body—they completely hijack your mind. At first, I thought it might be a temporary issue. I tried various tricks to try and settle my stomach, but nothing was working. But as the nausea continued, it became clear that this wasn’t something I could simply power through. By the time I hit mile 78, I had been struggling with nausea for hours, unable to keep anything down, not even water. My body was running on empty and all I could muster was a death march. When I noticed the blood, I knew my body was shutting down and I had to stop.
Massive respect to Dan a Jay who once they knew the situation didn’t even try to convince to try and push through. We all know each other well enough now to know when one of use needs tough love and when to be safe. The only unbreakable rule when doing these crazy things is you have to make it home to the family.
One of the hardest lessons in ultrarunning is learning when to listen to your body—and when to admit that you can’t push any further. There’s a fine line between pushing through discomfort and risking serious injury or harm. I’ve always been someone who believes in grit and perseverance. I didn’t want to quit. But I knew I wasn’t in the place to finish.
It’s a hard pill to swallow, but the reality is that no race is worth risking your health over. And as much as I wanted to finish, I had to make the responsible decision to stop. That didn’t feel great at the time (and still doesn’t), but it was the right thing to do.
Before the race, I told myself that I would never give up. After all, if you're going to sign up for a 100-mile race, you should be mentally tough enough to finish, right? But in the end, I realized that there’s no shame in not finishing an ultra. Ultrarunning is brutal, and the human body has limits. Not finishing doesn’t mean I’m not strong. It doesn’t mean I’m a failure. It just means that today wasn’t the day. Sometimes, not finishing is the result of being smart, of understanding your body, and of knowing that health and safety should always come first.
One of the best lessons I took away from this race is that the real journey isn’t about the finish line; it’s about the journey you take to get there. Sure, the goal of every ultrarunner is to cross that finish line, but there are so many factors outside of our control on race day. Weather, nutrition, physical conditions, mental state—all these things can shift in an instant. I didn’t finish the race, but I gained invaluable experience. I learned more about my limits, my body, and the importance of perseverance—both in completing a race and in knowing when to stop.
So, while I didn’t finish The Robin Hood 100, I walked away with more wisdom, respect for my body, and insight into the unpredictable nature of ultrarunning. Sometimes, the toughest decision you make on race day is the one that leaves you standing at the side of the course instead of crossing the finish line. But it’s also the decision that can make you stronger in the long run.
I will finish this race in the future. I don’t know when, but I know I’ll be ready—body, mind, and stomach.
Until then, the journey continues.