Take Quitting Off the Table (and Watch What Happens)

You know that feeling.

The DNF that didn’t have to happen.

The drop haunts you—not because your race blew up, but because deep down, you knew you could’ve kept going.

You had more.

And instead of summoning it, you walked away from it.

At the time, it felt like the right call. Maybe even the only call.

But afterward, you couldn’t avoid the truth: it was a way out. And you took it.

That kind of regret sticks.

So you promise yourself next time will be different.

You swear you won’t drop. Not again.

You’ll be stronger.

You’ll take better care of yourself. Move faster through aid stations. And avoid getting tempted to drop place in the first place.

But here’s the problem:

When quitting’s still on the table, you’ll think about it.

You’ll wonder. You’ll negotiate.

It’s like leaving a slice of pie out on the counter and telling yourself you won’t eat it.

You pass by every time you walk through the kitchen. 

You see it. Smell it. Think how good it would taste.

Eventually, “later” becomes now—and the pie’s gone.

When the race gets hard (and it will), your brain will offer quitting as a solution.

Because you left it there. Open. Unsettled. Available.

Why don’t we commit ahead of time and take quitting off the table?

Because it feels risky.

What if something really does go wrong?

What if we need that option?

And more secretly…

What if we make the promise and still fail?

What if we break it?

What if we disappoint ourselves again?

It feels safer to keep it vague.

To leave the door cracked—just in case.

But that mindset creates the very outcome you’re afraid of.

The strong move here is constraint.

Take needless quitting off the table.

Not all quitting. Not the rare, true emergency.

But the drop that comes from a mental spiral? From discomfort? From doubt?

Off. The. Table.

You decide ahead of time exactly what circumstances justify a DNF—and what doesn’t.

An injury risk? Or actual injury.

Feeling guilty for being away? Or a real family emergency.

Thinking you might not make the next aid station? Or getting timed out.

Whatever your criteria, define it now. While your mind is clear.

Before fatigue and emotion wear down your decision-making.

Why does this work?

Because constraint builds trust.

Not just in your plan—but in you.

You’re no longer negotiating with yourself at mile 68.

You’ve already decided. You’re solid.

You’re free to focus on the work—not the question of whether you’ll keep going.

And when the urge to quit hits?

You don’t spiral.

You don’t panic.

You recognize it. You expected it. And you keep moving.

The payoff?

You finish races you would’ve dropped.

You give your all, even if they pull you—because you didn’t pull yourself.

You earn the result—and the self-respect.

This isn’t recklessness.

It’s not “finish no matter what.”

It’s being intentional.

It’s taking your race—and yourself—seriously.

So from now on, take quitting off the table before the race starts.

Make the call while you’re clear-headed.

Then line up knowing that when it gets hard, you’ve already answered the question.

And that’s not a burden.

That’s freedom.