Recovery and Detraining

When recovering from an over-reaching phase, with symptoms of heavy legs, lack of motivation, and poor performance, it's always hard to tell when I'm ready to start building again. When I first return to the road, my legs are usually still heavy, and performance is still lower, that could just be the detraining effects of time off. I sometimes wait  too long after recovery periods and lost more fitness than necessary -- and, at other times, come back too early and dug myself in a deeper hole than ever. These days, I'm trying to finesse the middle ground.

Bad Head Day

Okay. Enough.

I've been sick off and on with sort of the same cold/bronchial infection for four weeks. It's been one-step-forward-one-step-back, over and over again. Put this on top of my four weeks of overtrained/overstressed exhaustion in October, and you get someone who is extremely ready to stronger and healthier. Who doesn't have to think three times before he does anything, like get on a bike, eat a certain food, go outside.

So, I'm asking for your help. How can you help, you ask? Simple. You can inspire me. I know four weeks (plus however many more) is not the most people can be sidelined, not by a longshot. I need to put this in perspective, and I need to be inspired.

Post up your favorite stories of long lay-ups due to illness, injury, or other unavoidable annoyance. Times when, even though you knew better, it felt like you might never ride again like you used to. How did you get through it psychologically, fitness-wise, etc.?

Also feel free to post links to others' blog posts, videos, books, etc. Heck, I'll even take songs.

I had a really bad day. It's time to turn this attitude around.

How to Overtrain

It’s been quite a long time since the last post. I’m hoping to keep this blog alive, but I recently moved to a new part of the state and started a new job, and getting settled took more time and energy than I predicted.

I also increased my training load considerably after moving. I’ve written here about the much more numerous and serious hills in my new location; in addition to riding much more vertically, between mid-August and late September I also greatly increased my distances while simultaneously trying to increase my average speed. All within the first four weeks of a very stressful move, and starting the new job.

For those of you who are considering greatly increasing both volume and intensity in your training, while going through a big life stressor, allow me to offer a word of advice:

Don’t.

In mid-September, after about a month of this ridiculous load, my body simply said, “I quit.”

It took me too long to figure what was happening. Being in my first year of real endurance training, I’d read about overtraining, but I’d never gone through it, so I didn’t recognize it. It started innocently enough; I was sleeping very poorly. Since I occasionally go through bouts of this, I trained right through it, thinking perhaps the extra effort I was putting in was helping relieve the stress. Mistake number one. Life stress and riding stress have to be added together when considering training load. They are two halves of a whole.

I kept adding intensity and volume. I hit my distance goal for the season about three weeks after the move, riding farther than I’d ridden in two and a half decades. Each long ride included numerous hills far steeper and longer than the ones I was used to in my previous location. Meanwhile, my performance stats kept improving. I figured, as long as I was adapting positively, I should keep increasing my load (provided I took rest days and lighter weeks here and there). Mistake number two. If you’re increasing your training stress in more than one factor (intensity, frequency, or duration), be aware that your body is bearing an enormous stress.

I did five days of lighter riding after my personal distance record. After that, I felt like Superman – like I could ride anywhere at any speed I wanted. So, after the rest week, I did a six-day stretch with two intense time trial workouts and two separate days with hill repeats on that big hill – the final day including a few one minute max efforts within the hill repeats. Crazy.

I simply lost sight of the how often I rode intensely. It was like crack; the more and harder I rode, the faster I got. On the road, I was thinking, “I’m ready to ride with the big dogs. I know I can hold my own.” I felt so excited.

All this, of course, during the first three weeks of a stressful new job, and a new apartment in a brand new area.

I’m sure you can guess what came next.

The Saturday after those hill repeats, during a routine, moderate spin, I realized I felt like utter crap. The entry from my training log says:

Feeling sluggish, irrtiable, uninspired today. Seasonal allergies bad.

Warning! Danger, Will Robinson!!!

Yet, onward I pushed. Thinking it was a fluke, the next day I rode a moderate distance, and ended up dragging myself through it. I hated a good portion of that ride. I had started feeling exhausted at work, sometimes to the point where I had to turn out the lights in my office and sleep for 25 minutes just to finish the day. I did finally figured out that I had gone too far, but there, too, I made a mistake. I only backed off a little, instead of getting off the bike altogether for at least a week as I should have. I just didn’t see the big picture.

I dug a huge hole for myself, and, long story short, I ended up having to do little to no riding for the better part of three long weeks. My allergies were raging. I was sickly-thin and couldn’t gain weight.

I started doubling up on helpful nutritional supplements like ginseng and B vitamins, eating mountains of healthy greens, and adding red meat to my diet. I firmly re-established my sleep cycle, and did light cross-training like hiking, yoga and long walks. By the time I started feeling even a little healthy again, I had lost months’ worth of fitness, which I’m currently still regaining -- slowly.

And so it was that I learned the limits of my body. Overtraining is a very real thing. In retrospect, and after a lot of research, it’s easy to see the signposts. The exhaustion during the day, poor sleep at night, and increased allergies all started long before I had problems while riding. I could have started extra rest right then and probably saved many weeks of recovery time later.

And then again, had I taken a serious break once I did find that I couldn’t ride well and that I was hating the act of riding (other common signs of overtraining), I could have still saved time and fitness.

Training is tricky; usually “less is more,” especially for those of us solidly into middle age and with demanding lives. Then again, sometimes “more is more;” some days that extra intensity is just what I need to blast out the blahs. But when a lot of symptoms are cropping up at once, it’s time to get off the bike and rest.

I can’t say that you’ll always come back stronger – sometimes, you might lose a bit of fitness. But at the very least, you’ll lose a lot less than you would if you pushed through it.

So, that’s where I’ve been all these weeks. With luck, I’m solidly back now, and you’ll be hearing from me.

Heal, Already! Living with a Nagging Injury (i)

Part One

I’ve been living with a minor sports-related injury for about seven months now, and the fancy name for it is patellofemoral pain syndrome. Really, that’s just a ten-dollar way of saying that I have a problem that the experts don’t understand. It basically amounts to irritation and pain behind the kneecaps, and most of the gurus think it’s due to poor tracking of the patella when the leg flexes. Of course, the leg flexes many hundreds of times on a typical bike ride, right? So there you go: Recipe for nagging, recurring injury.

That’s the bumper sticker version of the science. What I really want to write about today, though, is the way that a nagging injury gets inside your head and fouls up your confidence, your athletic life and your sanity. There doesn’t seem to be much out there about that – which is surprising, considering how common sports injuries are.

When the injury first came along last fall, I buzzed off to my primary care doctor. He sent me to an orthopedist. Who sent me to a physical therapist. Which was where I wanted to go in the first place, but you know the wisdom of insurance companies: You have to go through the chain of command, or you get court martialed.

All three experts told me I had rock-solid knees, and I’d be back to 100% in no time. The cocky young orthopedist even turned on his million-dollar smile and said something like, “I promise you another 100,000 miles on those knees.”

Now, you’ll remember I said at the top “seven months,” right? It’s so easy for doctors to be optimistic about your recovery. If they turn out to be wrong, they just get more business. If we could sue for giving false hope, like we can for leaving surgical tools inside us, they’d be more circumspect, don’t you think?

The PT was one of those no-nonsense sports doctors: Young, confident, handsome. Runs his own business, always checking his Blackberry. Man of few words. Very nice guy, actually, and I think he’s probably pretty good. But I always worry that he’s finds me a bit neurotic. I go on and on about my symptoms, when they come, when they go, what the variables are, asking a hundred questions. I think he wishes I would just shut up and follow his exercise and stretching regimen. He knows I would get better; he's seen it many times. Meanwhile, he could put his attention on his other patients. There seem to always be other patients in PT offices, lined up on treatment tables and specialized equipment, waiting for attention from the doc, as if he were the maharishi about to bless them with his miraculous hands, so they could finally go run or swim pain-free. I wish they would all go away. Can’t they see that I need to get these knees fixed?

NEXT: The physical therapy actually works. For a while.