As it's been almost two months since my last post (and I would have liked to have made this a weekly thing), I thought I would update you on my journey. I haven't quit, but in short, I've thought about it.
It's an early Spring Saturday morning, and I'm recovering from yesterday's 3 hour hilly ride, my coffee and my laptop nearby, girding myself for a 2 hour run. The last two months have been rough, with the last ten days being downright brutal. Not because of the aforementioned workouts of the past couple of days, but rather because of a lot of short intense training sessions.
At first, Captain Kirk's training plan gave me a pass on my swims. "Try to do them, but if you have to miss a workout, skip a swim." Okay, so my philosophy became that my swims were a reward for good behavior. That good behavior was that I got on the bike or ran that day. Although my training weeks have averaged 10 hours, it's the intensity for which I was not prepared.
Each workout had a strict purpose: whether it was determining Threshold Rates, T-paces, or max heart rates, every session required a short warm up followed by repeated intervals of one type or another. My swims included longer and longer intervals at faster and faster paces. My rides on the trainer focused on Heart Rate, speed intervals, and Functional Threshold Power (FTP is basically how fast can I go for how long without my heart exploding). My runs were long, All Out intervals, with many, many miles of long runs.
All of this isn't so bad if I have an "easy_______" sprinkled into the plan here and there. But they were almost nowhere to be found. In the last 8 weeks, the short, easy workouts can be counted on one hand with fingers left over.
What this means is that not only am I taxing myself physically, which is of course expected, but my mind is constantly counting something. Whether it's laps in the pool, sets of speed intervals, or minutes until my recovery period, my brain is focused solely on the workout, my legs, my lungs and anything and everything that hurt.
Yes, I am training for a big event. But the problem I'm having is that nowhere in my schedule is there time for a meditative, relaxing run. As I've stated before, running is my recharge, but only if I get to process my world in the rhythm. I just need to get out the door and hit cruise control. If I have to "embrace the suck," every single time, then it becomes not fun.
So the result is this: I am as tired physically as anyone would expect. That's a given. But the mental and emotional toll this is having on me? I'm simply not prepared for it. After weeks of all the physical exertion and the mental juggling, I am worthless to the point of being reduced to a blubbering mass of tears. I am right about where I was when I made the decision to drop out of IM Boulder. With every breath, my only thought is, "I'm so tired." And I'm really tired of that being my only thought.
It came to a head when I took my dog to the vet, and the words "cancer" were uttered. When I came home, I looked at my training plan, saw a 90 minute high-cadence ride (make my feet move faster and faster), and I said..."Nope." All I wanted to do was lay down and cry. So I did. I skipped the workout, which is not going to make or break crossing an IM finish line.
My coach and I had a conversation about how mentally drained I had become, and if this is normal. The Captain actually told me something very encouraging. Kirk said, "if you weren't feeling like this, I would be afraid that you weren't working hard enough. This is the toughest part of the training, in addition to the last few weeks before the taper. You are exactly where you need to be as we get ready for the next phase." Yes, this actually IS encouraging. It means I'm actually doing this right...somehow.
Let's face it. I'm not injured, I'm eating right and I've gained about 10 pound of muscle...mostly in my quads. I have to wear my fat pants, because my strong gams won't fit into my skinny jeans. However, knowing that I'm on the right track and this mental fatigue is to be expected makes me feel a bit better.
So I embrace the suck. I make peace with the fact that although it's rough, it will get a bit easier mentally. I move on and mix it up a bit but getting my bike off the trainer, find a new running route, or mix up my pool sessions by just going at a different time of day.
No, I haven't quit. And I'm not going to. The next phase of training is less intensity, but longer hours. I'm fine with that (she says before she's even seen the schedule). But in the meantime, I have a dive vacation, where Captain Kirk has ordered me to not work out at all. Let myself recover, take in a spiritual recharge, and come back fired up for the last 14 weeks of training.
Now where are my shoes?
