DNF stands for ‘did not finish’ – the acronym no ultrarunner wants assigned to their race result. For amateurs, DNFing is loaded with emotion – but attrition rates are extremely common

Drenched, freezing, utterly miserable and with a GI catastrophe ready to blow, my internal conflict of quit/don’t quit was in full force. I was at about kilometre 56 of my 100km ultramarathon. After a cascade of bad decisions and worse weather, totally wretched, I shuffled and sobbed my way through the dark to the next checkpoint. By the time I got there at 62km, the resignation of dropping out had settled in. Months and months of training had come to nothing.

Inside the checkpoint, soaked runners and their besieged crew were crowded into what resembled a field hospital triage unit. In the chaotic throng I found my crew, slumped down on to a bench and said: I’m pulling out.

The performances often gave me goose bumps, but I also got to observe the highs and lows of audience behaviour

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I was 24, had just moved into a share house I couldn’t afford, and my job as a nanny was proving less than ideal. I’d graduated from my music degree a few years prior and was floating along, feeling a little lost.

A friend had told me to apply to become a front-of-house staff member at Australia’s busiest performing arts centre, Arts Centre Melbourne. It was a rare opportunity, as people rarely quit. To be surrounded by art again sounded like a dream.